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V»  THE 

LIFE 


OF 


NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE, 

EMPEROR  OF  THE  FRENCH. 

WITH  A 

PRELIMINARY  VIEW  OF  THE  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  '•  WAVERLEY."  &c. 


— Bed  non  in  Cssare  tantum 

Nomen  erat,  nee  fama  ducis  ;  ssd  iicscia  virtua 
Stare  loco  :  solusque  pudor  non  vinccre  bello  ; 
Acer  et  iudomitus  :  quo  3pe3  quorue  ira  vocasset 
Ferre  manum,  et  nunquani  leiueraiido  parcere  ferro ; 
Successus  urgere  suos  ;  iiistare  favori 
Numinis  ;  impellena  quicquid  sibi  gumma  petenti 
Obstarel ;  gaudensque  viara  fecisse  ruina. 

LuCANj  Pkarsalia,  Lib.  1. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


J.  &  B.  WILLIAMS. 


1834. 


M 


^^S^ 


>!.' 


ADVERTISEMEZTT. 


Thb  extent  and  purpose  of  this  work,  have,  in  the  course  of  its 
progress,  gradually  but  essentially  changed  from  what  the  author 
originally  proposed.  It  was  at  first  intended  merely  as  a  brief 
and  popular  abstract  of  the  most  wonderful  man,  and  ihe  most 
extraordinary  events  of  the  last  thirty  years — in  short,  to  emulate 
the  concise  yet  most  interesting  history  of  the  great  British  Admi- 
ral, by  the  Poet-Laureate  of  Britain.  The  author  was  partly  in- 
duced to  undertake  the  task,  by  having  formerly  drawn  up  for  a 
periodical  work,  (The  Edinhurgh  Annual  Register,)  the  history  of 
the  two  great  campaigns  of  1814  and  1815;*  and  throe  volumes 
was  the  compass  assigned  to  the  proposed  work.  An  introductory 
volume,  giving  a  general  account  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the 
Revolution,  was  thought  necessary  •,  and  the  single  volume,  on  a 
theme  of  such  extent,  soon  swelled  into  two. 

As  the  author  composed  under  an  anonymous  title,  he  could 
neither  seek  nor  expect  information  from  those  who  had  been  ac- 
tively engaged  in  the  changeful  scenes  which  he  was  attempting  to 
record ;  nor  was  lais  object  more  ambitious  than  that  of  compress- 
ing and  arranging  such  information  as  the  ordinary  authorities 
afforded.  CircumstanOBs,  however,  unconnected  with  the  under- 
taking, induced  him  to  lay  aside  an  incognito,  any  further  attempt 
to  preserve  which  must  have  been  considered  as  affectation  ;  and 
since  his  having  done  so,  he  has  been  favoured  with  access  to 
some  valuable  materials,  most  of  which  have  now,  for  the  first 
time,  seen  the  Ught.  For  these  he  refers  to  the  Appendix,  where 
the  reader  will  find  several  articles  of  novelty  and  interest. 
Though  not  at  liberty  in  every  case  to  mention  the  quarter  from 
which  his  information  has  been  derived,  the  author  has  been  care- 
ful to  rely  upon  none  which  did  not  come  from  sufficient  authoritv. 
lie  has  neither  grubbed  for  anecdotes  in  the  hbels  and  private 
scandal  of  the  time,  nor  has  he  solicited  information  from  individ- 
uals who  could  not  be  impartial  witnesses  in  the  facts  to  which 

*  Several  extracts  from  these  Annals  have  been  blended  with  the  presenLaccount  of 
Uie  same  events. 


VI  ADVERTISEMENT. 

they  gave  evidence.  Yet  the  various  pubhc  documents  and  private 
information  which  he  has  received,  have  materially  enlarged  his 
stock  of  materials,  and  increased  the  whole  work  to  more  than 
twice  the  size  originally  intended. 

On  the  execution  of  his  task,  it  becomes  the  author  to  be  silent. 
He  is  aware  it  must  exhibit  many  faults  ;  but  he  claims  credit  for 
having  brought  to  the  undertaking  a  mind  disposed  to  do  his  sub- 
ject as  impartial  justice  as  his  judgment  could  supply.  He  will  be 
found  no  enemy  to  the  person  of  Napoleon.  The  term  of  hostili- 
ty is  ended  when  the  battle  has  been  won,  and  the  foe  exists  no 
longer.  His  splendid  personal  qualities — his  great  military  actions 
and  political  services  to  France,  will  not,  it  is  hoped,  be  found 
lessened  in  the  narrative.  Unliappily,  the  author's  task  involved 
a  duty  of  another  kind,  the  discharge  of  which  is  due  to  France,  to 
Britain,  to  Europe,  and  to  the  world.  If  the  general  system  of 
Napoleon  has  rested  upon  force  or  fraud,  it  is  neither  the  great- 
ness of  his  talents,  nor  the  success  of  his  undertakings,  that  ought 
to  stifle  th3  voice  or  dazzle  the  ev^  '^^  hira  -who  axlventures  to  be 
his  historian.  The  reasons,  however,  are  carefully  summed  up 
where  the  author  has  presumed  to  express  a  favourable  or  unfa- 
vourable opinion  of  the  distinguished  persou  of  whom  these  vol- 
umes treat ;  so  that  each  reader  may  judge  of  their  validity  for 
himself. 

The  name,  by  an  original  error  of  the  press,  which  proceeded 
too  far  before  it  was  discovered,  has  been  printed  with  a  w,  Buon- 
aparte instead  of  Bonaparte.  Both  spellings  Avere  indifferently 
adopted  in  the  family ;  but  Napoleon  always  used  the  last,  and  had 
an  unquestioned  right  to  choose  the  orthography  which  he  pre- 
ferred. 

Edihburgb,  Ith  June,  1827. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  FXBST- 


CHAPTER  I. 
Review  of  the  State  of  Europe  after  the  Peace  of  Versailles.  England— France- 
Spain — Prussia.  Imprudent  Innovations  of  the  Emperor  Joseph.  Disturbano- 
es  in  his  Dominions.  Russia.  France — Her  ancient  System  of  Monarchy — ^how 
organized— Causes  of  its  Decay— Decav  of  the  Nobility  as  a  body— The  new  No- 
blee- The  Country  Nobles.  The  Nobles  of  the  highest  Order.  The  Church— 
Tbe  higher  Orders  of  the  Clergy— The  lower  Orde.^— The  Commons— Their  in- 
crease in  Power  and  Importance — Their  Claims  opposed  to  those  of  the  Privileg- 
ed Classes W 

CHAPTER  II. 
State  of  France  continued.  State  of  Public  Opinion.  Men  of  Letters  encouraged 
by  the  Great.  Disadvantages  attending  this  Patronage.  Licentious  tendency  of 
the  French  Literature — Their  Irreligious  and  Infidel  Opinions.  Free  Opinions  on 
Politics  permitted  to  be  expressed  in  an  abstract  and  speculative,  but  not  in  a 
practical  Form — Disadvantages  arising  from  the  Suppression  of  Free  Discussion. 
Anglomania.  Share  of  France  in  the  American  War.  Disposition  of  the  Troops 
who  returned  from  America ^ 

CHAPTER  III. 
Proximate  Cause  of  the  Revolution.  Deranged  State  of  the  Finances.  Reforms 
in  the  Royal  Household.  System  of  Turgot  andNecker — Necker's  Exposition  of 
the  State  of  the  Public  Rv,.«.-i.uc.  -nie-r«-.  a-o^wu.  ».T,,K»r  j;-pi-^«j  Suooena- 
ed  by  Calonne.  General  State  of  the  Revenue.  Assembly  of  the  Notables.  Ca- 
lonne  dismissed.  Archbishop  of  Sens  Administrator  of  the  Finances.  The  King's 
Contest  with  the  Parliament — Bed  of  Justice — Resistance  of  the  Parliament  and 
general  Disorder  in  the  Kingdom.  Vacillating  Policy  of  the  Minister — Royal  Sit- 
ting— Scheme  of  forming  a  Cour  Pleniere — It  proves  ineffectual.  Archbishop  of 
Sens  retires,  and  is  succeeded  by  Necker — He  resolves  to  convoke  the  States 
General.  Second  Assembly  of  Notables  previous  to  Convocation  of  the  States. 
Questions  as  to  the  Numbers  of  v.-hich  the  Tiers  Etat  should  consist,  and  the  Mode 
in  which  the  Estates  should  deliberate 37 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Meeting  of  the  States  General.  Predominant  Influence  of  the  Tiers  Etat. — Prop- 
erty not  represented  suiBciently  in  that  Body — General  Character  of  the  Mem* 
bers.  Disposition  of  the  Estate  of  the  Nobles— And  of  the  Clergy.  Plan  of  form- 
ing the  Three  Estates  into  Two  Houses— Its  .Advantages— It  fails.  The  Clergy 
unite  with  the  Tiers  Etat,  which  assumes  the  title  of  the  National  Assembly.  They 
assume  the  Task  of  Legislation,  and  declare  all  former  Fiscal  Regulations  illegal. 
They  assert  their  Determination  to  continue  their  Sessions.  Royal  Sitting — Ter- 
minates in  the  Triumph  of  the  Assembly.  Parties  in  that  Body — Mounier.  Con- 
ttitutionalists — Republicans — Jacobins — Orleans 46 

CHAPTER  V. 
Plan  of  the  Democrats  to  bring  the  King  and  Assembly  to  Paris.  Banquet  of  tbe 
Garde  du  Corps.  Riot  at  Paris— A  formidable  Mob  of  Women  assemble  to  march 
to  Versailles— The  National  Guard  refuse  to  act  against  the  Insurgents,  and  demand 
also  to  be  led  to  Versailles— The  Female  Mob  arrive— Their  behaviour  to  the  As- 
sembly—to  the  King— Alarming  Disorders  at  Night— La  f  ayetle  arrives  with  the 
National  Guard— Mob  force  the  Palace— Murder  the  Body  Guards— The  Queen's 
safety  endangered— Fayette's  arrival  with  his  Force  restores  Order.— King  and  Roy- 
al Family  obliged  to  go  to  reside  at  Paris.  Description  of  the  Procession — This 
Step  agreeable  to  the  Views  of  tbe  Constitutionalists,  and  of  the  Republicans,and 
of  the  Anarchists.     Duke  of  Orleans  sent  to  England 61 

CHAPTER  VI. 
La  Fayette  resolves  to  enforce  Order.  A  Baker  is  murdered  by  the  Rabble — One 
of  his  Murderers  Executed.  Decree  imposing  Martial  Law  in  case  of  Insurrec- 
tion. Democrats  supported  by  the  Audience  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Assembly.  In- 
troduction of  the  Doctrines  of  Equality — They  are  in  their  exaggerated  Sense  in- 
consistent with  Human  Nature  and  the  Progress  of  Society.  The  Assembly  abol- 
ish Titles  of  Nobility,  Armorial  Bearings,  and  Phrases  of  Courtesy — Reasoning  on 
these  Innovations.    "Disorder  of  Finance.     Necker  becomes  unpopular.     Seizure 


68 


vl  CONTENTS. 

of  Church-Lands.  Issue  of  Assignats.  Necker  leaves  France  in  unpopularity. 
New  Religious  Institution.  Oath  imposed  on  the  Clergy— Resisted  by  the  great- 
er  part  of  the  Order— Bad  Effects  of  the  Innovation.  General  View  of  the  Opera- 
tions of  the  Constituent  Assembly.  Enthusiasm  of  the  People  for  their  new  Priv- 
ileges. Limited  Privileges  of  the  Crown.  King  is  obliged  to  dissemble— His 
Negotiations  with  Mirabeau— With  Bouille.  Attack  on  the  Palace  of  the  King- 
Prevented  by  Fayette.  Royalists  expelled  from  the  Palace  of  the  Tuillerics. 
Escape  of  Louis.  He  is  captured  at  Varennes— Brought  back  to  Paris.  Riot  in 
the  Champ  de  Mars— Put  down  by  Military  Force.  Louis  accepts  the  Constitu- 
tion  

CHAPTER  VII. 

Legislative  Assembly— Its  Composition.  Constitutionalists— Girondists  or  Brissot- 
ins-— Jacobins.  Views  and  Sentiments  of  Foreign  Nations — England — Views  of  the 
Tories  and  Whigs — Anacharsis  Klootz — Austria— Prussia— Russia— Sweden.  Em- 
igration of  the  French  Princes  and  Clergy— Increasing  Unpopularity  of  Louis  from 
this  cause.  Death  of  the  Emperor  Leopold  and  its  Effects.  France  declaret 
War.  Views  and  Interests  of  the  different  Parties  in  France  at  this  Period.  De- 
cree against  Monsieur— Louis  interposes  his  Veto.  Decree  against  the  Priests 
who  should  refuse  the  Constitutional  Oath- Louis  again  interposes  his  Veto — 
Consequences  of  these  Refusals.  Fall  of  De  Lessart.  Ministers  now  chosen  from 
the  Brissotins.    AUJParties  favourable  to  War 90 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Defeats  of  the  French  on  the  Frontier.  Decay  of  the  Party  of  Constitutionalists— 
They  form  the  Club  of  Feuillans,  and  are  dispersed  by  the  Jacobins  forcibly.  The 
Ministry— Dumouriez— Versatility  of  his  Character.  Breach  of  Confidence  betwixt 
the  King  and  his  Ministers.  Dissolution  of  the  King's  Constitutional  Guard.  Ex- 
travagant measures  of  the  Jacobins— Alarms  of  the  Girondists.  Departmental  ar- 
my proposed.  King  puts  his  Veto  on  the  Decree,  against  Dumouriez's  Represent- 
ations. Decree  asainst  the  Recusant  Priests— King  refusea  ;t..  Letter  of  the 
Miuisters  to  ine  rflng — ne  uismisseB  noianu,  t^iavicic,  aiia  bervan.  JJumouriez, 
Duranton,  and  Lacoste,  appointed  in  their  stead.  King  ratifies  the  Decree  con- 
cerning the  Departmental  Army.  Dumouriez  retorts  against  the  late  Ministers  in 
the  Assembly— Resigns,  and  departs  for  the  Frontiers.  New  Ministers  named 
from  the  Constitutionalists.  Insurrection  of  the  20th  of  June.  Armed  Mob  in- 
trude into  the  Assembly— Thence  into  the  Tuilleries.  Assembly  send  a  Deputa- 
tion to  the  Palace— And  the  Mob  disperse.  La  Fayette  repairs  to  Pans— Remon- 
strates in  favour  of  the  King— But  is  compelled  to  return  to  the  Frontiers  and 
leave  him  to  his  fate.  Marseillois  appear  in  Paris.  Duke  of  Brunswick's  Mani- 
festo.   Its  Operation  against  the  King " 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Day  of  the  10th  of  August— Tocsin  sounded  eariy  in  the  Morning.  Swisi 
Guards,  and  relics  of  the  Royal  Party,  repair  to  the  Tuilleries.  Mandat  assassinat- 
ed. Dejection  of  Louis,  and  energy  of  the  Queen.  King's  Ministers  appear  at 
the  Bar  of  the  Assembly,  stating  the  peril  of  the  Royal  Family,  and  requesting  a 
Deputation  might  be  sent  to  the  Palace.  Assembly  pass  to  the  Order  of  the  Day. 
Louis  and  his  Family  repair  to  the  Assembly.  Conflict  at  the  Tuilleries.  Swiss 
ordered  to  repair  to  the  King's  Person— and  are  many  of  them  shot  and  dispersed 
on  their  way  to  the  Assembly.  At  the  close  of  the  Day  almost  all  of  them  are 
massacred.  Royal  Family  spend  the  Night  in  the  neighbounug  Convent  ot  the 
Feuillans 

CHAPTER  X. 
La  Fayette  compelled  to  Escape  from  France— Is  made  Prisoner  by  the  Prussians, 
with  three  Companions.  Peflections.  The  Triumvirate,  Danton,  Robespierre,  and 
Marat.  Revolutionary  Tribunal  appointed.  Stupor  of  the  Legislative  Assembly. 
Longwy,  Stenay,  and' Verdun,  taken  by  the  Prussians— Mob  of  Pans  enraged. 
Great  Massacre  of  Prisoners  in  Paris,  commencing  on  the  2d,  and  ending  the  6th 
September.  Apathy  of  the  Assembly  during  and  after  these  Events— Review  of 
its  Causes *"* 

chapti:r  XI. 

Election  of  Representatives  for  the  National  Convention.  Jacobins  are  very  active. 
Right  hand  Party— Left  hand  side— Neutral  Members,  'i'ho  Girondists  are  in 
possession  of  the  Ostensible  Power— They  denounce  the  Jacobin  Chiefs,  but  in 
an  irregular  and  feeble  manner.  Marat,  Robespierre,  and  Danton,  supported  by 
the  Community  and  Populace  of  Paris.  France  declared  a  Republic.  Duke  of 
Brunswick's  Campaign— Neglects  the  French  Emigrants— Is  tardy  in  his  Opera- 
tions—Occupies the  poorest  part  of  Cliampagne.  His  Army  becomes  Sickly. 
Prospects  of  a  Battle.  Dumouriez's  Army  recruited  with  Carmagnoles.  The 
Duke  resolves  to  Retreat— Thoughts  on  the  consequences  of  that  Measure.— The 


101 


CONTENTS.  Hi 

Retreat  disastrous.    The  Emigrants  disbanded  in  a  great  measure.     Reflections 

on  their  Fate.     The  Prince  of  Condi's  Army 11* 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Jacobins  determine  on  the  Execution  of  Louie.  Progress  and  Reasons  of  the  King's 
Unpopularity.  Girciidists  taken  by  surprise,  by  a  proposal  for  the  Abolition  of 
Royalty  made  by  the  Jacobins.  Proposal  carried.  Thoughts  on  the  New  .System 
of  Government— Compared  with  that  of  Uome.  Greece,  America,  and  other  Repub- 
lican States.  Enthusiasm  throughout  France  at  the  Change— Follies  it  gave  birth  to 

And  Crimes.    Monuments  of  Art  destroyed.  Madame  Roland  interposes  to  saTc 

the  Life  of  the  King.  Barrere.  Girondists  move  for  a  Departmental  Legion— Carri- 
ed—Revoked — and  Girondists  defeated.  The  Authority  of  the  Community  of 
Paris  paramount  even  over  the  Convention.  Documents  of  the  Iron-Chest.  Par- 
allel betwixt  Charles  I.  and  Louis  XVI.  Motion  by  Pethion,  that  the  King  should 
oe  tried  before  the  Convention 118 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Indecision  of  the  Girondists,  and  its  effects.  The  Royal  Family  in  the  Temple— In- 
sulted by  the  Agents  of  the  Community,  both  within  and  without  the  Prison — 
Their  exemplary  Patience.  The  King  deprived  of  his  Son's  Society.  Buzot's 
Admission  of  the  general  dislike  of  France  to  a  Republican  Form  of  Government. 
The  King  brouglit  to  Trial  before  the  Convention— His  first  Examination— Carried 
back  to  Prison  amidst  Insult  and  Abuse.  Tumult  in  the  Assembly.  The  King 
deprived  of  Intercourse  with  his  Family.  Malesherbes  appointed  as  Counsel  to 
defend  the  King — and  De  Seze.  Louis  again  brought  before  the  Convention — 
Opening  Speech  of  De  Seze— King  remanded  to  the  Temple.  Stormy  Debate  in 
tho  Convention.  Eloquent  Attack  of  Vergniaud  on  the  Jacobins.  Sentence  of 
Death  pronounced  against  the  King— General  Sympathy  for  his  Fate.  Dumou- 
riez  arrives  in  Paris — Vainly  tries  to  avert  the  King's  Fate.  Louis  XVI.  behead- 
ed ON  21  ST  January  1793 — Marie  Antoinette  on  the  16th  October  thereafter 
— The  Princess  Elizabeth  in  May  1794 — The  Dauphin  perishes  by  Cruelty, 
June  8th  1795.  The  Princess  Koyal  Kxchangea  tor  La  rayewe,  i^iJi  December 
1795 131 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Dumonriez— His  displeasure  at  the  Treatment  of  the  Flemish  •Provinces  by  the  Con- 
vention— His  Projects  in  consequence — Gains  the  ill-will  of  his  Army — and  is 
forced  to  fly  to  the  Austrian  Camp — Lives  many  years  in  retreat,  and  finally  dies 
in  England.  Struggles  betwixt  the  Girondists  and  Jacobins  in  the  Convention. 
Robespierre  impeaches  the  Leaders  of  the  Girondists — and  is  denounced  by  them. 
Decree  of  Accusation  past  against  Marat,  who  conceals  himself.  Commission  of 
Twelve  appointed.  Marat  acquitted,  and  sent  back  to  the  Convention  with  a  Civ- 
ic Crown.  Terror  and  Indecision  of  the  Girondists.  Jacobins  prepare  to  attack 
the  Palais  Royal,  but  are  Repulsed— Repair  to  the  Convention,  who  recall  the 
Commission  of  Twelve.  Louvet  and  other  Girondist  Leaders  fly  from  Paris.  Con- 
tention go  forth  in  Procession  to  Expostulate  with  the  People — Forced  back  to 
their  Hall,  and  compelled  to  decree  the  Accusation  of  Thirty  of  their  Body.  Gi- 
rondists finally  Ruined— and  their  Principal  Leaders  perish  in  Prison  by  the  Guil- 
lotine, and  by  Famine.     Close  of  their  History ''M 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Views  of  Parties  in  Britain  relative  to  the  Revolution.  Affiliated  Societies — Coun- 
terpoised by  Aristocratic  Associations.  Aristocratic  Party  eager  for  War  with 
France.  The  French  proclaim  the  Navigation  of  the  Scheldt.  British  Ambassa- 
dor recalled  from  Paris,  and  French  Envoy  no  longer  accredited  in  London. 
France  declares  war  against  England.  British  Army  sent  to  Holland  under  the 
Duke  of  York — State  of  the  Army.  View  of  the  Military  Positions  of  France — 
in  Flanders — on  the  Rhine — In  Piedmont — Savoy— on  the  Pyrenees.  State  cf 
the  War  in  La  Vendee — Description  of  the  Country — Le  Bocage — Le  Louroux — 
Close  Union  betwixt  the  Nobles  and  Peasantry — Both  strongly  attached  to  Royal- 
ty, and  abhorrent  of  the  Revolution.  The  Priests.  The  Religion  of  the  Vende- 
a'ns  outraged  by  the  Convention.  A  general  Insurrection  takes  place  in  1793. 
Military  Organization  and  Habits  of  the  Vendeans.  Division  in  the  British  Cabi- 
net on  the  Mode  of  Conducting  the  War.  Pitt— Windham.  Reasoning  upon  th« 
Subject.  Capitulation  of  Mentz  enables  15,000  Veterans  to  act  in  La  Vendee. 
Vendeans  defeated,  and  pass  the  Loire— They  defeat,  in  their  turn,  the  French 
Troops  at  Laval — But  are  ultimately  destroyed  and  dispersed.  Unfortunate  Ex- 
pedition to  Quiberon.  La  Charette  defeated  and  executed,  and  the  War  of  La 
Vendee  finally  terminated.  Return  to  the  State  of  France  in  Spring  1793.  Un- 
•uccessful  Resistance  of  Bourdeaux,  Marseilles,  and  Lyons,  to  the  Convention. 
Siege  of  Lyons— Its  surrender  and  dreadful  Punishment.     Siege  of  Toulon.  149 

Vol.  I.  A  2 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


ViewB  of  the  British  Cabinet  regarding  the  French  Revolution.  Extraordinary  Situ- 
ation of  France.  Explanation  of  the  Anomaly  which  it  exhibited.  System  of 
Terror.  Committee  of  Public  Safety — Of  Public  Security.  David  the  Painter. 
Law  against  suspected  Persons.  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  Effects  of  the  Emigra- 
tion of  the  Princes  and  Nobles.  Causes  of  the  Passiveness  of  the  French  Peo- 
ple under  the  Tyranny  of  the  Jacobins.  Singular  Address  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety.    General  Reflections 164 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Marat,  Danton,  Robespierre.  Marat  poniarded — Danton  and  Robespierre  become 
Rivals.  Commune  of  Paris — their  gross  Irreligion.  Gobet.  Goddess  of  Reason. 
Marriage  reduced  to  a  Civil  Contract.  Views  of  Danton — and  of  Robespierre. 
Principal  Leaders  of  the  Commune  arrested — and  Nineteen  of  them  executed. 
Danton  arrested  by  the  influence  of  Robespierre— and,  along  with  Camillc  Desmou- 
lins,  Westermann,  and  La  Croix,  taken  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  con- 
demned, and  executed.  Decree  issued  on  the  motion  of  Robespierre,  acknowl- 
edging a  Supreme  Being.  Cecilie  Regnaut.  Gradual  Change  in  the  Public  Mind. 
Robespierre  becomes  unpopular — Makes  every  eflibrt  to  retrieve  his  power. 
Stormy  Debate  in  the  Convention.  Collot  D'  Herbois,  Tallien,  &c.  expelled 
from  the  Jacobin  Club  at  the  instigation  of  Robespierre.  Robespierre  denounced 
ill  the  Convention  on  the  9th  Thermidor  {27th  July,)  and,  after^furious  struggles, 
rrested,  along  with  his  brother,  Couthon,  and  Saint  Just.  Henriot,  Command- 
.;U  of  the  National  Guard,  arrested.  Terrorisls  take  Refuge  in  the  Hotel  de 
Ville — Attempt  their  own  lives.  Robespierre  wounds  himself — but  lives,  along 
with  most  of  the  others,  long  enough  to  be  carried  to  the  Guillotine,  and  executed. 
His  character — Struggles  that  followed  his  Fate.  Final  Destruction  of  the  Jaco- 
binical Svstem — and  return  of  Tranquillity.  Singular  colour  given  to  Society  in 
Paris.     Ball  of  the  Victims 172 

CHAPTER  XVlIi. 

Retrospective  View  of  the  External  Piclations  of  France — Her  great  Military  Suc- 
cesses— Whence  they  arose.  Effect  of  the  Compulsory  Levies.  Military  Genius 
and  Character  of  the  French.  French  Generals.  New  Mode  of  Training  the 
Troops.  Light  Troops.  Successive  Attacks  in  Column.  Attachment  of  the  Sol- 
diers to  the  Revolution.  Also  of  the  Generals.  Carnot.  Effect  of  the  French 
Principles  preached  to  the  Countries  invaded  by  their  Arras.  Close  of  the  Revo- 
lution with  the  fall  of  Robespierre.    Reflections  upon  what  was  to  succeed.     .     .     190 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Corsica.  Family  of  Buonaparte.  Napoleon  born  15th  August  1769 — His  earlyHabits 
— Sent  to  the  Royal  Military  School  at  Brienne — His  great  Progress  in  Mathemat- 
ical Science— Deficiency  in  Classical  Literature.  Anecdotes  of  him  while  at  School 
— Removed  to  the  General  School  of  Paris.  When  seventeen  Years  Old,  appoint- 
ed 2d  Lieutenant  of  Artillery — His  early  Politics — Promoted  to  a  Captaincy.  Pas- 
cal Paoli.  Napoleon  sides  with  the  French  Government  against  Paoli — Along 
with  his  Brother  Lucien,  he  is  banished  from  Corsica — Never  revisits  it — Always 
unpopular  there 196 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Siege  ofToulon.  Recapitulation.  Buonaparte  appointed  Brigadier-General  of  Ar- 
tillery, with  the  Command  of  the  Artillery  at  Toulon — Finds  every  thing  in  disor- 
der— His  Plan  for  obtaining  the  Surrender  of  the  Place — Adopted.  Anecdotes 
during  the  Siege.  Allied  Troops  resolve  to  evacuate  Toulon — Dreadful  Particu- 
lars of  the  Evacuation — England  censured  on  this  occasion.  Lord  Lynedoch. 
Fame  of  Buonaparte  increases,  and  he  is  appointed  Chief  of  Battalion  in  the  Army 
of  Italy — Joins  Head-quarters  at  Nice.  On  the  Fall  of  Robespierre,  Buonaparte 
superseded  in  command — Arrives  in  Paris  in  May  1793  to  solicit  employment — 
He  is  unsuccessful.  Talma.  Retrospect  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  National  As- 
sembly. Difficulties  in  forming  a  new  Constitution.  Appointment  of  the  Directory 
— of  the  Two  Councils  of  Elders  and  of  Five  Hundred.  Nation  at  large,  and  Pa- 
ris in  particular,  disgusted  with  their  pretensions.  Paris  assembles  in  Sections. 
General  Danican  appointed  their  Commander-in-Chief.  Menou  appointed  by  the 
Directory  to  disarm  the  National  Guards — but  suspended  for  incapacity — Buona- 
parte appointed  in  his  room.  The  Day  of  the  Sections.  Conflict  betwixt  the  Troops 
of  the  Convention  under  Buonaparte,  and  those  of  the  Sections  of  Paris  under  Dan- 
ican. The  latter  defeated  with  much  slaughter.  Buonaparte  appointed  Second  in 
Command  of  the  .^rmy  of  the  Interior — then  General  in  Chief— Marries  Madame 
Beauhamois — Her  Character.  Buonaparte  immediately  afterwards  joins  the  Ar- 
my of  Italy 501 


CONTENTS.  id 

CHAPTER  XXi. 

Tlie  Alps.  Feelings  and  Views  of  Buonaparte  on  being  appointed  lo  the  Command 
of  the  Army  of  Italy — General  Account  of  his  new  Principles  of  Warfare — Moun- 
tainous Countries  peculiarly  favourable  to  them.  Retrospect  of  Military  Proceed- 
ings since  October  1795.  Hostility  of  the  French  Government  to  the  Pope.  Mas- 
sacre of  the  French  Envoy  Basseville,  at  Rome.  Austrian  Army  under  Beaulieu. 
Napoleon's  Plan  for  entering  Italy — Battle  of  Monte  Notte,  and  Buonaparte's  first 
Victory — Again  defeats  the  Austr'ians  at  Millesimo — and  again  under  Colli — Takes 
possession  of  Cherasco — King  of  Sardinia  requests  an  Armistice,  which  leads  to  a 
Peace  concluded  on  very  severe  Terms.  Close  of  the  Piedmontese  Campaign. 
Napoleon's  Character  at  this  period 214 

CHAPTER  XXn. 
Further  progress  of  the  French  Army  under  Buonaparte — He  crosses  the  Po,  at  Pia- 
cenia,  on  7th  May.  Battle  of  Lodi  takes  place  on  the  10th,  in  which  the  French 
are  victorious.  Remarks  on  Napoleon's  Tactics  in  this  celebrated  Action.  French 
take  possession  of  Cremona  and  Pizzighitone.  Milan  deserted  by  the  Archduke 
Ferdinand  and  his  Ducliess.  Buonaparte  enters  Milan  on  the  14th  May — Gener- 
al situation  of  the  Italian  States  at  this  period.  Napoleon  inflicts  fines  upon  the 
neutral  and  unoffending  States  of  Parma  and  Modena,  and  extorts  the  surrender 
of  some  of  their  finest  Pictures.    Remarks  upon  this  novel  procedure.       .     .     .     22.2 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Directory  propose  to  divide  the  Army  of  Italy  betwixt  Buonaparte  and  Kellermann— 
Buonaparte  resigns,  and  the  Directory  give  up  the  point.     Insurrection  against  the 
French  at  Pavia — crushed,  and  the  Leaders  shot — Also  at  the  Imperial  Fiefs  and 
.  -.  I.ugo,  quelled  and  punished  in  the  same  way.     Reflections.     Austrians  defeated  at 
--   Borghetto,  and  retreat  behind  the  Adige.  Buonaparte  narrowly  escapes  being  made 
Prisoner  at  Valeggio.    Mantua  blockaded.    Verona  occupied  by  the  French. — King 
of  Naples  secedes  from  Austria.     Armistice  purchased  by  the  Pope.     The  Neu- 
trality of  Tuscany  violated,  and  Leghorn  occupied  by  the  French  Troops.     Views 
of  Buonaparte  respecting  the  R^-vnlnti^nUingt  of  Itafy — Ho  tamparizee.     Conduct 
of  the  Austrian  Government  at  this  Crisis.  Beaulieu  displaced,  and  succeeded  by 
Wurmser.     Buonaparte  sits  down  before  Mantua "    2ol 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Campaign  on  the  Rhine.  General  Plan.  Wartensleben  and  the  Archduke  Charles 
retire  before  Jourdan  and  Moreau.  The  Archduke  forms  a  junction  with  War- 
tensleben, and  defeats  Jourdan,  who  retires — Moreau,  also,  makes  his  celebrated 
Retreat  through  the  Black  Forest.  Buonaparte  raises  the  Siege  of  Mantua,  and 
defeats  the  Austrians  at  Salo  and  Lonato.  Misbehaviour  of  the  French  General, 
Valette,  at  Cjistiglione.  Lonato  taken,  with  the  French  Artillery,  on  3d  Au- 
gust. Retaken  by  Massena  and  Augereau.  Singular  escape  of  Buonaparte  from 
being  captured  at  Lonato.  Wurmser  defeated  between  Lonato  and  Castiglione, 
and  retreats  on  Trent  and  Roveredo.  Buonaparte  resumes  his  position  before 
Mantua.  Effects  of  the  French  Victories  on  the  different  Italian  States.  Inflexi- 
bility of  Austria.  Wurmser  recruited.  Battle  of  Roveredo.  French  Victorious, 
and  Massena  occupies  Trent.  Buonaparte  defeats  Wurmser  at  Primolano^and  at 
Bassano,  8th  September.  Wurmser  flies  to  Vicenza.  Battle  of  Areola.  Vi^urra- 
eer  finally  shut  up  within  the  walls  of  Mantua 23S 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Corsica  re-united  with  France.  Critical  situation  of  Buonaparte  in  Italy  at  this  pe- 
riod. The  Austrian  General  Alvinzi  placed  at  the  head  oi  a  new  Army.  Various 
Contests,  attended  with  no  decisive  result.  Want  of  concert  among  the  Austrian 
Generals.  French  Army  begin  to  murmur.  First  Battle  of  Areola.  Napoleon 
in  personal  danger.  No  decisive  result.  Second  Battle  of  Areola — The  French 
victorious.  Fresh  want  of  concert  among  the  Austrian  Generals.  General  Views 
of  Military  and  Political  Affairs,  after  the  conclusion  of  the  fourth  Italian  Cam- 
paign. Austria  commences  a  fifth  Campaign — but  has  not  profited  by  experience. 
Battle  of  Rivoli,  and  Victory  of  the  French.  Further  successful  at  La  Favorita. 
French  regain  their  ground  in  Italy.  Surrender  of  Mantua.  Instances  of  Napo- 
leon's Generosity.     .  24* 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Situation  and  Views  of  Buonaparte  at  this  period  of  the  Campaign.  His  politic  Con- 
duct towards  the  Italians — Popularity.  Severe  terms  of  Peace  proposed  to  the 
Pope — rejected.  Napoleon  differs  from  the  Directory,  and  Negotiations  are  re- 
newed— but  again  rejected.  The  Pope  raises  his  army  to  40,000  Men — Napoleon  ' 
invades  the  Papal  Territories.  The  Papal  Troops  defeated  near  Imola — and  at 
Ancona — which  is  captured — Loretto  taken.  Clemency  of  Buonaparte  to  the 
French  recusant  Clergy.  Peace  of  Tolentino.  Napoleon's  Letter  to  the  Pope. 
S.in  Marino.  View  ofthe  situation  of  the  different  Italian  States — Rome — ^Naple."! 
— Tuscanv — Venice 2.55 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVIT. 
Archduke  Charles — Compared  with  Napoleon — Fettered  by  the  Aulic  CounciL 
Napoleon,  by  a  stratagem,  passes  the  Tagliamento,  and  compels  the  Aichduke  to 
retreat.  Gradisca  carried  by  storm.  Chiusa-Veneta  taken  by  Massena,  with  the 
loss  of  5000  Austrians,  Baggage,  Cannon,  &c.  The  Sea-ports  of  Trieste  and  Fium« 
occupied  by  the  French.  Venice  breaks  the  Neutrality,  and  commences  Hostili- 
ties by  a  massocre  of  100  Frenchmen  at  Verona.  Terrified  on  learning  that  an 
Armistice  had  taken  place  betwixt  France  and  Austria — Circumstances  which  led  to 
this.  The  Archduke  retreats  by  hasty  marches  on  Vienna — His  prospects  of  suc- 
cess in  defending  it.  The  Government  and  People  irresolute,  and  the  Treaty  of 
Leoben  signed — Venice  now  makes  the  most  humiliating  submissions.  Napole- 
on's Speech  to  the  Venetian  Envoys — He  declares  War  against  Venice,  and  evade* 
obeying  the  orders  of  the  Directory  to  spare  it.  The  Great  Council,  on3l8t  May, 
concede  everything  to  Buonaparte,  and  disperse  in  terror.  Terms  granted  by  the 
French  General t6S 

CHAPTER  XXVHI.  *"' 
Napoleon's  amatory  Correspondence  with  Josephine.  His  Court  at  Montebello. 
Negotiations  and  Pleasure  mingled  there.  Genoa.  Revolutionary  spirit  of  the 
Genoese.  They  rise  in  insurrection,  but  are  quelled  by  the  Government,  and  the 
French  plundered  and  imprisoned.  Buonaparte  interferes,  and  appoints  the  out- 
lines of  a  new  Government.  Sardinia.  Naples.  The  Cispadane,  Transpadane, 
and  Emilian  Republics,  united  under  the  name  of  the  Cisalpine  Republic.  The 
Valteline.  The  Grisona.  The  Valteline  united  to  Lombardy.  Great  improve- 
ment of  Italy,  and  the  Italian  Character  from  these  changes.  Difficulties  in 
the  way  of  Pacification  betwixt  France  and  Austria.  The  directory  and  Napole- 
on take  different  views.  Treaty  of  Campo  Formio.  Buonaparte  takes  leave  of  ^^ 
the  Army  of  Italy,  to  act  as  French  Plenipotentiary  at  Rastadt *72 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Retrospect.  Tho  i>irc<rtCTrj^ — th«ry  bccTjiirc  anpojjuiar.  Cuuscs  of  their  unpopulaH- 
ty — Also  at  enmity  among  themselves.  State  of  public  feeling  in  France — In 
point  of  numbers,  favouraWe  to  the  Bourbons;  but  the  Army  had  monied  Interest 
arainstthem.  Pichegru,head  of  the  Royalists,  appointed  President  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Five  Hundred.  Barbe  Marbois,  another  Royalist,  President  of  the  Council 
of  Ancients.  Directory  throw  themselves  upon  the  succour  of  Hoche  and  Buona- 
parte. Buonaparte's  personal  Politics  discussed.  Pichegru's  Correspondence 
with  the  Bourbons — known  to  Buonaparte — He  despatches  Augereau  to  Paris.  Di- 
rectory arrest  their  principal  Opponents  in  the  Councils  on  the  18th  Fructidor, 
and  banish  them  to  Guiana.  Narrow  and  impolitic  Conduct  of  the  Directory  to 
Buonaparte,    f  r'^iected  Invasion  of  England 278 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
View  of  the  respective  Situations  of  Great  Britain  and  France,  at  the  Period  of  Napo- 
leon's return  from  Italy.  Negotiations  at  Lisle — Broken  off,  and  Lord  Malmesbury 
ordered  to  quit  the  Republic.  Army  of  England  decreed,  and  Buonaparte  named 
to  the  Command — He  takes  up  his  Residence  in  Paris — Description  of  his  person- 
al Character  and  Manners.  Madame  de  Stael.  Public  honours  paid  to  Napoleon. 
Project  of  Invasion  terminated,  and  the  real  Views  of  the  Directory  discovered  to  be 
the  Expedition  to  Egypt.  Armies  of  Italy  and  the  Rhine,  compared  and  contrast- 
ed. Napoleon's  Views  and  Notions  in  heading  the  Kgyptian  Expedition — those  of 
the  Directory  regarding  it — Its  actual  Impolicy.  Curious  Statement  regarding  Buo- 
naparte, previous  to  his  Departure,  given  by  Miot.  The  Armament  sails  from  Tou- 
lon, on  10th  May  1798.  Napoleon  occupies  Malta,  without  resistance,  on  10th 
June— P'oceeds  ou  his  course,  and  escaping  the  British  Squadron,  lands  at  Alex- 
andria on  the  29th.  Description  of  the  various  Classes  of  Nations  who  inhabit 
Egypt  : — 1.  The  Fellahs  and  Bedouins — 2.  The  Cophts — 3.  The  Mamelukes. 
Napoleon  issues  a  Proclamation  from  Alexandria,  against  the  Mamelukes — March- 
es against  them  on  the  5th  July.  Mameluke  mode  of  fighting.  Discontent  and 
disappointment  of  the  French  Troops  and  their  Commanders — Arrive  at  Cairo. 
Battle  of  the  Pyramids  on  11th  of  July,  in  which  the  Mamelukes  were  completely 
defeated  and  dispersed.     Cairo  surrenders SM 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
French  Naval  .Squadron.  Contlicting  Statements  of  Buonaparte  and  Admiral  Ga»- 
theaume  in  regard  to  it.  Battle  of  Aboukir  on  15th  August  1798.  Number 
and  position  of  the  Enemy,  and  of  the  English — Particulars  of  the  Action.  The 
French  Admiral,  Brueyes,  killed  and  his  ship,  L'Orient,  blown  up.  The  Victory 
complete,  two  only  of  the  French  Fleet,  and  two  Frigates,  escaping  on  tho  morn- 
ing of  the  ICth.  Effects  of  tliis  disaster  on  the  French  Army.  Means  by  which 
Napoleon  proposes  to  e8tal)li8h  himself  in  Egypt.  His  Administration  in  many  re- 
spects useful  and  praiseworthy — in  otliers,  his  Conduct  impolitic  and  absurd.  He 
desires  to  be  regarded  an  Envoy  of  the  Deity,  but  without  success.     Hi«  endear- 


90i 


CONTENTS.  li 

ours  equally  unsuccessful  to  propitiate  the  Porte.  The  Fort  of  El  Arish  falls  in- 
to his  hands.  Massacre  of  Jaffa— Admitted  by  Buonaparte  himself— His  argumeiita 
in  its  defence — Replies  to  them — General  Conclusions.  Plague  breaks  out  in  the 
French  Army.  Napoleon's  humanity  and  courage  upon  this  occasion.  Proceedi 
against  Acre  to  attack  Djezzar  Paclia.  Sir  Sidney  Smith— His  character — Cap- 
tures a  French  Convoy,  and  throws  himself  into  Acre.  French  arrive  before  Acre 
on  17th  March  1799,  and  effect  a  breach  on  the  28th,  but  are  driven  back.  As- 
saulted by  an  Army  of  Moslems  of  various  Nations  assembled  without  the 
Walls  of  Acre,  whom  they  defeat  and  disperse.  Interesting  particulars  of  the 
Siege.  Personal  misunderstanding  and  hostility  betwixt  Napoleon  and  Sir  Sidney 
Smith— explained  and  accounted  for.  Buonaparte  is  finally  compelled  to  raise  the 
Siege  and  retreat 49* 

CHAPTER  XXXn. 
Discussion  concerning  the  alleged  poisoning  of  the  Sick  in  the  Hospitals  at  Jaffa. 
Napoleon  acquitted  of  the  Charge.  French  Army  re-enter  Cairo  on  the  14th  June. 
Retrospect  of  what  had  taken  place  in  Upper  and  Lower  Egypt  during  his  Absence. 
Incursion  of  Murad  Bey.  18,000  Turks  occupy  Aboukir— Attacked  and  defeated 
by  Buonaparte-^This  victory  terminates  Napoleon's  Career  in  Egypt.  Views  of 
his  Situation  there  after  that  Battle.  Admiral  Ganlheaurae  receives  Orders  to  make 
ready  for  Sea— On  the  23d  August,  Napoleon  embarks  for  France,  leaving  Kleber 
and  Menou  first  and  second  in  Command  of  the  Army — Arrives  in  Ajaccio,  in  Cor- 
sica, on  the  30th  September,  and  lands  at  Frejus,  in  France,  on  the  9th  October. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
P^etrospect  of  Public  Events  since  the  departure  of  Napoleon  for  Egypt.  Invasion 
and  conquest  of  Switzerland.  Seizure  of  Turin.  Expulsion  of  the  Pope.  The 
Neapolitans  declare  War  against  France — are  defeated — and  the  French  enter  Na- 
ples. Disgraceful  Avarice  exhibited  by  the  Directory — particularly  in  their  Ne- 
j;otiatioiis  with  the  United  States  of  America — Are  unsuccessful,  and   their  shame 

made  public.       Rupsi.1  COmoe  forward  in  tHrr  ^cnor«i  Ontxo© ^Hor  StroBgth  and  Re- 

Bources.  Reverses  of  the  French  in  Italy,  and  on  the  Rhine.  Insurrections  in  Belgi- 
um and  Holland  against  the  French.  Anglo-Russian  Expedition  sent  to  Holland. 
The  Chouans  again  in  the  field.  Great  and  universal  Unpopularity  of  the  Directo- 
ry. State  of  Parties  in  France.  Law  of  Hostages.  Abbe  Sieyes  becomes  one 
li"  the  Directory — His  Character  and  Genius.  Description  of  the  Constitution 
proposed  by  iiim  for  the  Year  Three.  Ducos,  Gohier,  and  Moulins,  also  introduc- 
ed into  the  Directory.  Family  of  Napoleon  strive  to  keep  him  in  the  Recollec- 
tion of  the  People.  Favourable  Change  in  the  French  affairs.  Holland  evacuated 
by  the  Anglo-Russian  Army.  Korsakow  defeated  by  Massena — and  Suwarrow  re- 
treats before  Lecourbe 308 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
fcleneral  rejoicing  on  the  return  of  Buonaparte — He,  meanwhile,  secludes  himself  in 
Retirement  and  Literature.  Advances  made  Jo  him  on  all  sides.  Napoleon  coa- 
lesces with  the  Abbe  Sieyes.  Revolution  of  the  18th  Brumaire — Particulars  of  that 
event.  Clashing  Views  of  the  Councils  of  Ancients,  and  the  Five  Hundred.  Bar- 
ras  and  his  Colleagues  resign,  leaving  the  whole  Power  in  the  hands  of  Napoleon. 
Proceedings  of  the  Councils  on  the  18th — and  19th.  Sittings  removed  from  Pa- 
ris to  St.  Cloud — Buonaparte  visits  both  on  the  latter  Day.  Violent  Commotion 
in  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred — Napoleon  received  with  great  hostility,  menac- 
ed and  assaulted,  and  finally  extricated  by  his  Grenadiers,  breathless  and  exhaust- 
ed. Lucien  Buonaparte,  the  President,  retires  from  the  Hall  with  a  similar  Es- 
cort— Declares  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred  dissolved — They  are  then  dispersed 
by  Military  Force.  Various  Rumours  stated  and  discussed.  Both  Councils  ad- 
journ to  the  19th  February  1800,  after  appointing  a  Provisional  Consular  Govern- 
ment, of  Buonaparte,  Sicyesi,  and  Ducos 3K 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
Effects  of  the  Victory  of  the  18th  and  19th  Brumaire.  Clemency  of  the  New  Con- 
•ulatc.  Beneficial  change  in  the  Finances.  Law  of  Hostages  repealed.  Religious 
liberty  allowed.  Improvements  in  the  War  Department.  Submission  of  the  Chou- 
MiB,  and  Pacification  of  La  Vendee.  Ascendency  of  Napoleon  in  the  Consulate. 
Disappointment  of  the  Abbe  Sieyes.  Committee  formed  to  consider  Sieyes'  Plan 
of  a  Constitution — Adopted  in  part — but  rejected  in  essentials.  A  new  one  adopt- 
ed, monarchical  in  every  thing  but  form.  Sieyes  retires  from  public  life  on  a  pen- 
sion. General  view  of  the  new  Consular  form  of  Government.  Despotic  Power  of 
»he  Fii-st  Consul.     Reflections  on  Buonaparte's  conduct  upon  this  occasion.  .     .     3M 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
Proceedings  of  Buonaparte  in  order  to  consolidate  his  Power — His  great  success — 
Causes  that  led  to  it.     Cambaceres  and  Lebrun  chosen  Second  and  Third  Con- 
EuU.     Talleyrand  appointed  .Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  Fouche  Minister  of 


XM  CONTENTS. 

Police — Their  Characters.  Other  Ministers  nominated.  Various  Changes  made, 
in  order  to  mark  the  Commencement  of  a  new  Era.  Napoleon  addresses  a  Letter 
personally  to  the  King  of  England — .Ans%vercd  by  I,ord  Grenville.  Negotiation 
for  Peace,  that  followed,  speedily  broken  oft".  Campaigns  in  Italy,  and  on  the 
Rhine — Successes  of  Moreau — Censured  by  Napoleon  for  Over-caution.  The 
Charge  considered.  The  Chief  Consul  resolves  to  bring  back,  in  Person,  Victory 
to  the  French  Standards  in  Italy — His  Measures  for  that  Purpose 330 

CFI.\PTER  XXXVII. 

The  Chief  Consul  leaves  Paris  on  Gth  May  1800 — Has  an  Interview  with  Necker  at 
Geneva  on  8th — Arrives  at  Lausanne  on  the  13th — Various  corps  put  in  motion  to 
cross  the  Alps.  Napoleon  at  the  head  of  the  Main  Army,  marches  on  tiio  15th — 
and  ascends  Mont  St.  Bernard — Difficulties  of  the  March  surmounted.  On  the 
16th,  the  Van-guard  takos  possession  of  Aosta.  Fortress  and  Town  of  Bard  threat- 
en to  baffle  the  whole  Plan — The  Town  is  captured — and  Napoleon  contrives  to 
Bend  his  Artillery  through  it,  under  the  fire  of  the  Fort,  his  Infantry  and  Cavalry 
passing  over  the  Albaredo.  Lannes  carries  Ivrea.  Recapitulation.  Operations 
of  the  Austrian  General  Melas — At  the  commencement  of  the  Campaign  Melas  ad- 
vances towards  Genoa — Many  Actions  between  him  and  Massena.  In  March,  Lord 
Keith  blockades  Genoa.  Melas  compelled  to  retreat  from  Genoa — Enters  Nice — 
Recalled  from  thence  by  the  news  of  Napoleon's  having  crossed  Mont  St.  Bernard — 
Genoa  Surrenders — Buonaparte  enters  Milan— Battle  of  Montebello,  and  Victory 
of  the  French — The  Chief  Consul  is  joined  by  Dessaix  on  the  11th  June.  Great 
Battle  of  Marengo  on  the  14th,  and  complete  Victory  of  the  French — Death  of 
Dessaix — Capitulation  on  the  15th,  by  which  Genoa,  &c.,  are  yielded  to  the  French. 
Napoleon  returns  to  Paris  on  the  2d  July,  and  is  received  with  all  the  acclamations 
due  to  a  great  Conquerer 336 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Napoleon  offers,  and  the  Austrian  Envoy  accepts,  a  new  Treaty — The  Emperor  refus- 
es it,  unless  Eloglaad  is  included.  JMcgotiations  then  attempted  with  England 
— They  fail,  and  Austria  is  encouraged  to  a  renewal  of  the  War.  Reasoning  on 
the  Policy  of  this  Conclusion.  An  Armistice  of  forty-five  Days  is  followed  by 
the  resumption  of  Hostilities.  Battle  of  Hohenlinden  gained  by  Moreau  on  the 
3d  December  1800.  Other  Battles  take  place;  by  which  the  .\ustrian  Affairs  are 
made  desperate,  and  they  agree  to  a  separate  Peace.  An  .\rmistice  takes  place, 
which  is  followed  by  the  Treaty  of  Luneville.  Convention  between  France  and 
the  United  States.  Explanatory  Recapitulation.  The  Queen  of  Naples  repairs 
to  Petersburgh  to  intercede  with  the  Emperor  Paul — His  capricious  Character  ; 
originally  a.  violent  Anti-Gallican,  he  grows  cold  and  hostile  to  the  Austrians,  and 
attached  to  the  Fame  and  Character  of  the  Chief  Consul — Receives  the  Queen  of 
Naples  with  cordiality,  and  applies  in  her  behalf  to  Buonaparte — His  Envoy  re- 
ceived at  Paris  with  the  utmost  distinction,  and  the  Royal  Family  of  Naples  saved 
for  the  present,  though  on  severe  Conditions.  The  Neapolitan  General  compel- 
led to  evacuate  the  Roman  Territories.  Rome  restored  to  the  Authority  of  the 
Pope.  Napoleon  demands  of  the  King  of  Spain  to  declare  War  against  Portugal. 
Olivenza  and  Almeida  taken.  Buonaparte's  conduct  towards  the  Peninsular  Pow- 
ers overbearing  and  peremptory.  The  British  alone  active  in  opposing  the  French. 
Malta,  after  a  Blockade  of  two  Years,  obliged  to  submit  to  the  English.       .     .     .     315 

CH.\PTER  XXXIX. 
Internal  Government  of  France.  General  attachment  to  the  Chief  Consul,  though 
the  two  Factions  of  Republicans  and  Royalists  are  hostile  to  him.  Plot  of  the 
former  to  remove  him  by  Assassination — Defeated.  Vain  hopes  of  the  Royalists, 
that  Napoleon  would  be  the  instrument  of  restoring  the  Bourbons — .\pplications 
to  him  for  thateffect  disappointed — Royalists  methodize  the  Plot  of  the  Infernal 
Machine — Description  of  it — It  fails.  Suspicion  first  falls  on  the  Republicans,  and 
a  decree  of  transportation  is  passed  against  a  great  number  of  their  Ciiiefs — but 
13  not  carried  into  execution.  The  actual  Conspirators  tried  and  executed.  Use 
made  by  Buonaparte  of  the  Conspiracy  to  consolidate  Despotism.  Various  Meas- 
uros  devised  for  that  purpose.  System  of  the  Police.  Fouchc — His  Skill,  Influ- 
ence, and  Power.  Napoleon  becomes  jealous  of  him,  and  organizes  measures  of 
precaution  against  him.  Apprehension  entertained  by  the  Chief  Consul  of  the  ef- 
fects of  Literature,  and  his  efforts  against  it.  Persecution  of  Madame  de  Stael. 
The  Concordat — Various  Views  taken  of  that  Measure.  Plan  for  a  general  System 
of  Jurisprudence.  Amnesty  granted  to  the  Emigrants.  Plans  of  Public  Educa- 
tion.    Other  Plans  of  Improvement.     Hopes  of  a  General  Peace 381 

CHAPTER  XL. 
Return  to  the  external  Relations  of  France.     Hor  universal  Ascendency.     Napole- 
on's advances  to  the  Emperor  Paul.     Plan  of  destroying  the  British  Power  in  In- 
dia.    Right  of  Search  at  Sea.     Death  of  Paul.     Its  effects  on  Buonaparte.     Affairs 
of  Egypt.     Assassination  of  Kleiier.     Mcnou  appointed  to  succeed  him.     Britieb 


CONTENTS.  xiu 

Army  lands  in  Egypt.  Battle  and  Victory  of  Alexandria.  Death  of  Sir  Ralph  Ab- 
ercromby.  General  Hutchinson  succeeds  him.  The  French  General  Belliard 
capitulates — as  does  Menou.     War  in  Egypt  brought  to  a  victorious  Conclusion.    360 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
Preparations  made  for  the  Invasion  of  Britain.  Nelson  put  in  command  of  the  Sea. 
Attack  of  the  Boulogne  Flotilla.  Pitt  leaves  the  Ministry — succeeded  by  Mr.  Ad- 
dington.  Negotiations  for  peace.  Just  punishment  of  England,  in  regard  to  the 
conquered  Settlements  of  the  Enemy.  Forced  to  restore  them  all,  save  Ceylon 
and  Trinidad.  Malta  is  placed  under  the  guarantee  of  a  Neutral  Power.  Prelim- 
inaries of  Peace  signed.  Joy  of  the  English  Populace,  and  doubts  of  the  better 
classes.  Treaty  of  Amiens  signed.  The  ambitious  projects  of  Napoleon,  never- 
theless, proceed  without  interruption.  Extension  of  his  power  in  Italy.  He  is 
appointed  Consul  for  life,  with  the  power  of  naming  his  Successor 368 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
Different  Views  entertained  by  the  English  Ministers  and  the  Chief  Consul  of  the  ef- 
fects of  the  Treaty  of  Amiens.  Napoleon,  misled  by  the  Shouts  of  a  London  Mob, 
misunderstands  the  feelings  of  the  People  of  Great  Britain.  His  continued  en- 
croachments on  the  Independence  of  Europe — His  Conduct  to  Switzerland — Inter- 
feres in  their  Politics,  and  sets  himself  up,  uninvited,  as  Mediator  in  their  Con- 
cerns— His  extraordinary  Manifesto  addressed  to  them.  Ney  enters  Switzerland 
at  the  head  of  40,000  Men.  The  patriot.  Reding,  disbands  his  Forces,  and  is  im- 
prisoned Switzerland  is  compelled  to  furnish  France  with  a  Subsidiary  Army  of 
16,000  Troops.  The  Chief  Consul  adopts  the  title  of  Grand  Mediator  of  the  Hel- 
vetic Republic 367 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Increasing  jealousies  betwixt  France  and  England — Additional  Encroachments  and 
Offences  on  the  part  of  the  former.  Singular  Instructions  given  by  the  First  Con- 
sul to  his  Commercia!  Agents  in  British  Ports.  Orders  issued  by  the  English  Min- 
isters for  the  Expulsion  of  all  Persons  nctin—  nndor  them.       Violence  o£  the  PresS 

on  both  sides  of  the  Channel.  Peltier's  celebrated  Royalist  Publication,  L'Ambi- 
gu.  Buonaparte  answers  through  the  Moniteur,  Monsieur  Otto's  Note  of  Remon- 
strance— Lord  Hawkesbury's  Reply.  Peltier  tried  for  a  Libel  againist  the  First 
Consul — found  Guilty — but  not  brought  up  for  Sentence.  Napoleon's  continued 
Displeasure.  Angry  discussions  respecting  the  Treaty  of  Amiens — Malta.  Offen- 
sive report  of  General  .Sebastiani — Resolution  of  the  British  Government  in  con- 
sequence. Conferences  betwixt  Buonaparte  and  Lord  Whitworth.  The  King 
sends  a  Message  to  Parliament,  demanding  additional  aid.  Buonaparte  quarrels 
with  Lord  Whitworth  at  a  Levee — Particulars.  Resentment  of  England  upon  this 
occasion.  Farther  discussions  concerning  Malta.  Reasons  why  Buonaparte 
might  desire  to  break  off  Negotiations.  Britain  declares  war  against  France  on 
18th  May  1803 371 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
Retrospect.  St.  Domingo.  The  Negroes,  victorious  over  the  Whites  and  Mulat- 
toes,  split  into  parties  under  different  Chiefs — Toussaint  L'Ouverture  the  most 
distinguished  of  these.  His  Plans  for  the  amelioration  of  his  Subjects.  Appoints, 
in  imitation  of  France,  a  Consular  Government.  France  sends  an  Expedition 
against  St.  Domingo,  under  General  Leclerc,  in  December  1801,  which  is  suc- 
cessful, and  Toussaint  submits.  After  a  brief  interval  he  is  sent  to  France,  where 
he  dies  under  the  hardships  of  confinement.  The  French  visited  by  Yellow  Fe- 
ver, are  assaulted  by  the  Negroes,  and  War  is  carried  on  of  new  with  dreadful  fury. 
Leclerc  is  cut  off  by  the  distemper,  and  is  succeeded  by  Rochambeau.  The  French 
finally  obliged  to  capitulate  to  an  English  Squadron,  on  1st  December  1803. 
Buonaparte's  scheme  to  consolidate  his  power  at  home.  The  Consular  Guard 
augmented  to  GOOO  men — Description  of  it.  Legion  of  Honour — Account  of  it. 
Opposition  formed,  on  the  principle  of  the  English  one,  against  the  Consular  Gov- 
ernment. They  oppose  the  establishment  of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  which,  howev- 
er, is  carried.  Application  to  the  Count  de  Provence  (Louis  XVIII.)  to  resign 
the  Crown— Rejected 378 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

Mutual  Feelings  of  Napoleon  and  the  British  Nation,  on  the  Renewal  of  the  War. 
First  Hostile  Measures  on  both  sides.  England  lays  an  Embargo  on  French  Ves- 
sels in  her  ports — Napoleon  retaliates  by  detaining  British  Subjects  in  France. 
Effects  of  this  unprecedented  Measure.  Hanover  and  other  places  occupied  by 
the  French.  Scheme  of  Invasion  renewed.  Nature  and  extent  of  Napoleon's 
Preparations.     Defensive  Measures  of  England.     Reflections 389 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
Disaffection  begins  to  arise  against  Napoleon  among  the  Soldiery.     Purpose  of  set- 
ting upMoreau  against  him.     Character  of  Moreau — Causes  of  his  Estrangement 


xIt  contents. 

from  Buonaparte.  Piclicgru.  The  Duke  D'Enghien.  Georges  Cadoudal,  Piche- 
gru,  and  other  Royalists,  landed  in  France.  Desperate  Enterprise  of  Georges — 
Defeated.  Arrest  of  Moreau — of  Pichcgru — and  Georges.  Captain  Wright. 
Duke  D'Enghien  seized  at  Strashurgh— hurried  to  Paris — transferred  to  VincenncB 
— Tried  by  a  Military  (commission — Condemned — and  Executed.  Universal 
Horror  of  France  and  F.urope.  Buonaparte's  Vindication  of  his  Conduct — His 
Defence  considered.  Piclie^ru  found  Dead  in  his  Prison — Attempt  to  explain  his 
Death  by  charging  him  witli  Suicide.  Captain  Wright  found  with  his  Throat  cut. 
A  similar  attempt  made.  Georges  and  other  Conspirators  Tried — Condemned — 
and  Executed.     Royalists  silenced.     Moreau  sent  into  Exile 3{)8 

CHAPTER  XLVn. 
General  indignation  of  Europe   in  consequence  of  the  Murder  of  the  Duke  D'En- 

§hien.  Russia  complains  to  Talleyrand  of  the  violation  of  Baden  ;  and,  along  with 
weden,  remonstrates  in  a  Note,  laid  before  the  German  Diet — but  without  effect. 
Charges  brouglit  by  Buonaparte  against  Mr.  Drake,  and  Mr.  Spencer  Smith — who 
are  accordingly  dismissed  from  the  Courts  of  Stutgard  and  Munich.  Seizure — im- 
prisonment— and  dismissal — of  Sir  George  Rumbold,  the  British  Envoy  at  Lower 
Saxony.  Treachery  attempted  against  Lord  Elgin,  by  the  Agents  of  Buonaparte — 
Details — Defeated  by  the  exemplary  Prudence  of  that  Nobleman.  These  Charges 
brought  before  the  House  of  Commons,  and  peremptorily  denied  by  the  Chancel- 
lor of  the  Exchequer 397 

CHAPTER  XLVni. 
Napoleon  meditates  a  change  of  title  from  Chief  Consul  to  Emperor.  A  Motion  to 
this  purpose  brought  forward  in  the  Tribunate — Opposed  by  Carnot — Adopted  by  th« 
Tribunate  and  Senate.  Outline  of  the  New  System — Coldly  received  by  the  Peo- 
ple. Napoleon  visits  Boulogne,  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  the  Frontiers  of  Germany, 
where  he  is  received  with  respect.  The  Coronation.  Pius  VIL  is  summoned 
from  Rome  to  perform  the  Ceremony  at  Paris.  Details.  Reflections.  Changes 
that  took  place  in  Italy.  Napoleon  appointed  Sovereign  of  Italy,  and  Crowned 
at  Milan.     Genoa  annesed  to  France 400 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
Napoleon  addresses  a  Second  Letter  to  the  King  of  England  personally — ^The  folly 
and  inconvenience  of  this  Innovation  discussed — Answered  by  the  British  Secre- 
tary of  State  to  Talleyrand.  Alliance  formed  betwixt  Russia  and  England.  Prus- 
sia keeps  aloof,  and  the  Emperor  Alexander  visits  Berlin.  Austria  prepares  for 
War,  and  marches  an  Army  into  Bavaria — Her  impolicy  in  prematurely  commenc- 
ing Hostilities,  and  in  her  Conduct  to  Bavaria.  Unsoldierlike  Conduct  of  the 
Austrian  General,  Mack.  Buonaparte  is  joined  by  the  Electors  of  Bavaria  and 
Wirtemburg.  and  the  Duke  of  Baden.  Skilful  Manoeuvres  of  the  French  Gener- 
als, and  successive  losses  of  the  Auslrians.  Napoleon  violates  the  Neutrality  of 
Prussia,  by  marching  through  Anspach  and  Bareuth.  Further  Losses  of  the  Aus- 
trian Leaders,  and  consequent  Disunion  among  them.  Mack  is  cooped  up  in  Ulm. 
Issues  a  formidable  Declaration  on  the  16th  October — and  surrenders  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Fatal  Results  of  this  Man's  Poltroonery,  want  of  Skill,  and  probable 
Treachery " 407 

CHAPTER  L. 

Position  of  the  French  Armies.  Napoleon  advances  towards  Vienna.  The  Emperor 
Francis  leaves  his  Capital.  French  enter  Vienna  on  the  13th  November.  Review 
of  the  French  Successes  in  Italy  and  the  Tyrol.  Schemes  of  Napoleon  to  force 
on  a  general  Battle — He  succeeds.  Battle  of  Austerlitz  is  fought  on  the  2d  De- 
cember, and  the  combined  Austro-Russian  Armies  completely  defeated.  Inter- 
view betwixt  the  Emperor  of  Austria  and  Napoleon.  The  Emperor  .Alexander  re- 
treats towards  Russia.  Treaty  of  Presburgh  signed  on  the  2tith  December— Its 
Conditions.     Fate  of  the  King  of  Sweden — and  of  the  Two  Sicilies 413 

CHAPTER  LI. 
Relative  situations  of  France  and  England.  Hostilities  commenced  with  Spain,  by 
the  Stoppage,  by  Commodore  Moore,  of  four  Spanish  Galleons,  when  three  of 
their  Escort  were  taken,  and  one  blew  up.  Napoleon's  Plan  of  Invasion  states 
and  discussed.  John  Clerk  of  Eldin's  great  system  of  Breaking  the  Line,  explain- 
ed— Whether  it  could  have  been  advantageously  used  by  France  ?  The  French 
.\dmiral,  Villeneuve,  forms  a  junction  with  the  Spanish  Fleet  under  Gravina — At- 
tacked and  defeated  by  Sir  Robert  Calder,  with  the  loss  of  two  Ships  of  the  I^ine. 
Nelson  appointed  to  the  Command  in  the  Mediterranean.  DvTTr.E  of  Trafak- 
€AR  fought  on  the  21st  October  180G.  Particulars  of  the  Force  on  each  Side, 
and  details  of  the  B.ittle.  Death  of  iVelsoti.  Behaviour  of  Napoleon  on  learning 
the  Intelligence  of  this  .Signal  Defeat.  Villeneuve  commits  Suicide.  Address  of 
Buonaparte  to  the  Legislative  Body.  Statement  of  Monsieur  de  Champagny  on 
♦lie  Internal  Improvements  of  Franco.     Elevation  of  Napoleon's  Brothers,  Louis 


1-  ' 


CONTENTS.  XT 

and  Joseph,  to  the  Thrones  of  Holland  and  Naples.  Principality  of  Lucca  con- 
ferred on  Eliza,  the  eldest  Sister  of  Buonaparte,  and  that  of  Guaatalla  on  Pauline, 
the  youngest.  Other  alliances  made  by  his  Family.  Reflections.  Napoleon  ap- 
points a  new  Hereditary  Nobility.  The  Policy  of  this  Measure  considered.  Con- 
yerts  from  the  old  Noblesse  anxiously  sought  for  and  liberally  rewarded.  Confed- 
eration of  the  Rhine  established,  and  Napoleon  appointed  Protector.  The  Em- 
peror Francis  lays  aside  the  Imperial  Crown  of  Germany,  retaining  only  the  Title 
of  Emperor  of  Austria.    Vacillating  and  Impolitic  Conduct  of  Prussia 480 

CHAPTER  LII. 
Death  of  Pitt — He  is  succeeded  by  Fos  as  Prime  Minister.  Circumstances  which 
led  to  Negotiation  with  France.  The  Earl  of  Lauderdale  is  sent  to  Paris  as  the 
British  Negotiator.  Negotiation  is  broken  off  in  consequence  of  the  Refusal  of 
England  to  cede  Sicily  to  France,  and  Lord  Lauderdale  leaves  Paris.  Reasonings 
on  the  stability  of  Peace,  had  Peace  been  obtained.  Prussia — her  Temporizing 
Policy — She  takes  alarm — An  attempt  made  by  her  to  form  a  Confederacy  in  op- 
position to  that  of  the  Rhine,  is  defeated  by  the  Machinations  of  Napoleon. 
Strong  and  general  disposition  of  the  Prussians  to  War.  Legal  Murder  of  Palm, 
a  bookseller,  by  authority  of  Buonaparte,  aggravates  this  feeling.  The  Emperor 
Alexander  again  visits  Berlin.  Prussia  begins  to  arm  in  August  1806,  and  after 
some  Negotiation,  takes  the  Figld  in  October,  under  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  Im- 
policy of  the  Plans  of  the  Campaign.  Details.  Action  fought,  and  lost  by  the 
Prussians,  at  Saalfeld — Followed  by  the  decisive  Defeat  of  Auerstadt,  or  Jena,  on 
the  13lh  October.  Particulars  of  the  Battle.  Duke  of  Brunswick  mortally 
wounded.  Consequences  of  this  total  Defeat.  All  the  strong  places  in  Prussia 
given  up  without  resistance.  Buonaparte  takes  possession  of  Berlin  on  the  25th. 
Explanation  of  the  different  Situations  of  Austria  and  Prussia  after  their  several 
Defeats.    Reflections  on  the  Fall  of  Prussia *31 

CHAPTER  LIII. 
Ungenerous  conduct  of  Buonaparte  to  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  The  approach  of 
the  French  Troops  to  BruuswicK  compels  the  dying  Prince  to  cause  himself  to  be 
carried  to  Altona,  where  he  expires.  Oath  of  Revenge  taken  by  his  Son.  At 
Potsdam  and  Berlin,  the  proceedings  of  Napoleon  are  equally  cruel  and  vindictive 
— His  Clemency  towards  the  Prince  of  Hatzfeld — His  Treatment  of  the  Lesser 
Powers.  Jerome  Buonaparte.  Seizure  of  Hamburg.  Celebrated  Beilin  Decrees 
against  British  Commerce — Reasoning  as  to  their  justice — Napoleon  rejects  all 
application  from  the  continontal  commercial  towns  to  relax  or  repeal  them.  Com- 
merce, nevertheless,  flourishes  in  spite  of  them.  Second  anticipation  called  for 
of  the  Conscription  for  1807.  The  King  of  Prussia  applies  for  an  Armistice, 
which  is  clogged  with  such  harsh  terms  that  he  refuses  them 443 

"  CHAPTER  LIV. 
Retrospect  of  the  Partition  of  PoFand.  Napoleon  receives  addresses  from  Poland, 
which  he  evades — He  advances  into  Poland,  Bennigsen  retreating  before  him. 
Character  of  the  Russian  Soldiery.  The  Cossacks.  Engagement  at  Pultusk,  on 
26th  November,  terminating  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  French.  Bennigsen  con- 
tinues his  retreat.  The  French  go  into  winter  quarters.  Bennigsen  appointed 
Commander-in-chief  in  the  place  of  Kaminskoy,  who  shows  symptoms  of  insanity 
— He  resumes  offensive  operations.  Battle  of  Eylau, fought  on  8th  February  1807. 
Claimed  as  a  victory  by  both  parties.  The  loss  on  both  sides  amounts  to  60,000 
men  killed,  the  greater  part  Frenchmen.  Bennigsen  retreats  upon  Konigsberg. 
Napoleon  oflers  favourable  terms  for  an  Armistice  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  who 
refuses  to  treat,  save  for  a  general  Peace.  Napoleon  falls  back  to  the  line  of  the 
Vistula.  Dantzic  is  besieged,  and  surrenders.  Russian  army  is  poorly  recruited 
— the  French  powerfully.  Actions  during  the  Summer.  Battle  of  Heilsberg,  and 
retreat  of  the  Russians.  Battle  of  Friedland  on  13th  June,  and  defeat  of  the  Rus- 
sians, after  a  hard-fought  day.     An  Armistice  takes  place  on  the  23d 448 

CHAPTER  LV. 
British  Expedition  to  Calabria,  under  Sir  John  Stuart.  Character  of  the  People. 
Opposed  by  General  Regnier.  Battle  of  Maida,  6th  July  1806.  Defeat  of  the 
French.  Calabria  evacuated  by  the  British.  Erroneous  Commercial  Views,  and 
Military  Plans,  of  the  British  Ministry.  Unsuccessful  Attack  on  Buenos  Ayrea. 
General  Whitelocke — is  cashiered.  Expedition  against  Turkey,  and  its  Depend- 
encies. Admiral  Duckworth's  Squadron  sent  against  Constantinople.  Passes  and 
repasses  the  Dardanelles,  without  accomplishing  anything.  Expedition  against 
Alexandria.  It  is  occupied  by  General  Eraser.  Rosetta  attacked.  British  Troopi 
defeated — and  withdrawn  from  Egypt,  September  1807.  Curacoa  and  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  taken  by  England.  Assumption  of  more  energetic  Measures  on  the 
part  of  the  British  Government.  Expedition  against  Copenhagen — its  Causes  and 
Objects — its  Citadel,  Forts,  and  Fleet,  surrendered  to  the  British.     Eflects  of  thii 


t*i  CONTENTS. 

Proceeding  upon  France — and  Russia.    Coalition  of  France,  Russia,  Austria,  aad 
Prussia,  against  British  Commerce 45S 

CHAPTER  LVI. 
View  of  the  Internal  Government  of  Napoleon  at  the  period'of  the  Peace  of  Ulsit. 
The  Tribunate  abolished  Council  of  State.  Prefectures — Their  nature  and  ob- 
jects described.  The  Code  Napoleon — Its  Provisions — Its  Merits  and  Defects — 
Comparison  betwixt  that  Code  and  the  Jurisprudence  of  England.  Laudable  efibrta 
of  Napoleon  to  carry  it  into  effect 468 

CHAPTER  LVII. 

System  of  Education  introduced  into  France  by  Napoleon.    National  University — 
its  nature  and  objects.     Lyceums.     Proposed  Establishment  at  Meudon.     .     .     .  48S 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 
Military  Details.  Plan  of  the  Conscription — Its  Nature-~and  Effects — Enforced 
with  unsparing  rigour.  Its  influence  upon  the  general  Character  of  the  French 
Soldiery.  New  mode  of  conducting  Hostilities  introduced  by  the  Revolution. 
Constitution  of  the  French  Armies.  Forced  Marches.  La  Maraude — Its  Nature 
—and  Effects — on  the  Enemy's  Country,  and  on  the  French  Soldieis  themselves. 
Policy  of  Napoleon,  in  his  personal  conduct  to  his  Officers  and  Soldiers.  Altered 
Character  of  the  French  Soldiery  during,  and  after,  the  Revolution— Explained.  .  486 

CHAPTER  LIX. 
Effects  of  the  Peace  of  Tilsit.  Napoleon's  views  of  a  State  of  Peace— Contrasted 
with  those  of  England.  The  Continental  System— Its  Nature — and  Effects. 
Berlin  and  Milan  Decrees.  British  Orders  in  Council.  Spain — Retrospect  of  the 
Relations  of  that  Country  with  France  since  the  Revolution.  Godoy — His  influ 
ence — Character — and  Political  Views.  Ferdinand,  Prince  of  Asturias,  applies 
to  Napoleon  for  aid.  Affairs  of  Portugal.  Treaty  of  Fontainbleau.  Departure 
of  tlie  Prince  Regeut  for  Brazil.  Entrance  of  Junot  into  Lisbon — His  unbounded 
Rapacity.  Disturbances  at  Rladrid.  Ferdinana  dotcttcd  in  a  Plot  against  his 
Father,  and  imprisoned.  King  Charles  applies  to  Napoleon.  Wily  Policy  of 
Buonaparte — Orders  the  French  Army  to  enter  Spain 489 


LIFE 


NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


CHAP.  I. 


VIEW  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Review  of  the  State  of  Europe  after  the  Peace  of  Versailles. — England— France — 
Spain— Prussia. — Imprudent  Innovations  of  the  Emperor  Joseph. — Disturbances  i» 
hii  domi7iions. — liussia. — France — Her  ancient  ^^ystem  of  Monarchy — how  organiz- 
ed—Causes  of  its  decay — Decay  of  the  A'obility  as  a  body— The  neio  Nobles — The 
Country  Nobles— The  Nobles  of  the  highest  Order.— The  Church— The  higher  Or- 
ders of  the  Clergy— The  lower  Orders— The  Commons — Their  increase  in  Power 
and  Importance — Their  Claims  opposed  to  those  of  the  Privileged  Classes. 


When  we  look  back  on  past  events,  how- 
ever important,  it  is  difficult  to  recall  the 
precise  sensations  with  which  we  viewed 
them  in  their  progroBo,  and  lo  recollect  the 
fears,  hopes,  doubts,  and  difficulties,  for 
which  Time  and  the  course  of  Fortune 
have  formed  a  termination,  so  different 
probably  from  that  which  we  had  antici- 
pated. When  the  rush  of  the  inundation 
was  before  our  eyes,  and  in  our  ears,  we 
were  scarce  able  to  remember  the  state  of 
things  before  its  rage  commenced,  and 
when,  subsequently,  the  deluge  has  sub- 
sided within  the  natural  limits  of  the  stream, 
it  is  still  more   difficult  to  recollect  with 

Erecision  the  terrors  it  inspired  when  at  its 
eight.  That  which  is  present  possesses 
euch  power  over  our  senses  and  our  imag- 
ination, that  it  requires  no  common  effort 
to  recall  those  sensations  which  expired 
with  preceding  events.  Yet,  to  do  this  is 
the  peculiar  province  of  history,  which 
will  be  written  and  read  in  vain,  unl&ss  it 
can  connect  with  its  details  an  accurate 
idea  of  the  impression  which  these  produc- 
ed on  men's  minds  while  they  were  yet  in 
their  transit.  It  is  with  this  view  that  we 
attempt  to  resume  the  history  of  France 
and  of  Europe,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
American  war,  a  period  now  only  remem- 
bered by  the  more  advanced  part  of  the 
present  generation. 

The  peace  concluded  at  Versailles  in 
1783,  was  reasonably  supposed  to  augur  a 
long  repose  to  Europe.  The  high  and  em- 
ulous tone  assumed  in  former  times  by  the 
rival  nations,  had  been  lowered  paid  tamed 
by  recent  circumstances.  England,  under 
the  guidance  of  a  weak,  at  least  a  most  un- 
lucky administration,  had  purchased  peace 
at  the  expense  of  her  North  American  Em- 

Eire,  and  the  resignation  of  supremacy  over 
er  colonies ;  a  loss  great  in  itself,  but  ex- 
aggerated in  the  eyes  of  the  nation,  by  the 
tending  asunder  of  the  tiea  of  common  de- 


scent, and  exclusive  commercial  intei- 
course,  and  by  a  sense  of  the  wars  waged, 
.and  expenses  encountered  for  the  protec- 
tion and  advancement  of  the  fair  empire 
which  England  found  herself  obliged  to 
surrender.  The  lustre  of  the  British  anna, 
so  brilliant  at  the  Peace  of  Fontainbleau, 
had  been  tarnished,  if  not  extinguished. 
In  spite  of  tlie  gallant  defence  of  Gibraltar, 
the  general  result  of  the  war  on  land  had 
been  unfavourable  to  her  military  reputa- 
tion J  and  notwithstanding  the  opportune 
and  splendid  victories  of  Rodney,  the 
coasts  of  Britain  had  been  insulted,  and 
her  fleets  compelled  to  retire  into  port, 
while  those  of  her  combined  enemies  rode 
masters  of  the  Channel.  The  spirit  of  the 
country  also  had  been  lowered,  by  the  un- 
equal contest  which  had  been  sustained, 
and  by  the  sense  that  her  naval  superiority 
was  an  object  of  invidious  hatred  to  united 
Europe.  This  had  been  lately  tnade  mani- 
fest, by  the  armed  alliance  of  the  northern 
nations,  which,  though  termed  a  neutrality, 
was,  in  fact,  a  league  made  to  abate  the 
pretensions  of  England  to  maritime  supre- 
macy. There  are  to  be  added,  to  these 
disheartening  and  depressing  circumstan- 
ces, the  decay  of  commerce  during  the 
long  course  of  hostilities,  with  the  want  of 
credit  and  depression  of  the  price  of  land, 
which  are  the  usual  consequences  of  a 
transition  from  war  to  peace,  ere  capital 
hm  regained  its  natural  channel.  All  these 
things  being  ^considered,  it  appeared  the 
manifest  interest  of  England  to  husband 
her  exhausted  resources,  and  recruit  her 
diminished  wealth,  by  cultivating  peace 
and  tranquillity  for  a  long  course  of  time. 
William  Pitt,  never  more  distinguished 
than  in  his  financial  operations,  was  engag- 
ed in  new-modelling  the  revenue  of  the 
country,  and  adding  to  the  return  of  the 
taxes,  while  he  diminished  their  pressure. 
It  could  scarcely  be  supposed  that  any  ob 


20 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


{Chap.  L 


ject  of  national  ambition  would  have  been 
permitted  to  disturb  him  in  a  task  so  neces- 
sary. 

Neither  had  France,  the  natural  rival  of 
England,  come  off  from  the  contest  in  such 
circumstances  of  triumph  and  advantage, 
BS  were  likely  to  encourage  her  to  a  spee- 
dy renewal  of  the  struggle.  It  is  true,  she 
had  seen  and  contributed  to  the  humil- 
iation of  her  ancient  enemy,  but  she  had 
paid  dearly  for  the  gratification  of  her  re- 
venge, as  nations  and  individuals  are  wont 
to  do.  Her  finances,  tampered  with  by  suc- 
cessive sets  of  ministers,  who  looked  no 
farther  than  to  temporary  expedients  for 
carrying  on  the  necessary  expenses  of  gov- 
ernment, now  presented  an  alarming  pros- 
pect ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  wildest  and 
most  enterprising  ministers  would  hardly 
have  dared,  in  their  most  sanguine  mo- 
ments, to  have  recommended  either  war 
itself,  or  any  measures  of  which  war  might 
be  the  consequence. 

Spain  was  in  a  like  state  of  exhaustion. 
She  had  been  hurried  into  the  alliance 
against  England,  partly  by  the  consequen- 
ces of  the  family  alliance  betwixt  her  Bour- 
bons and  those  of  France,  but  still  more  by 
the  eager  and  engrossing  desire  to  possess 
herself  once  more  of  Gibraltar.  The  Cas- 
tilian  pride,  long  galled  by  beholding  this 
important  fortress  m  the  hands  of  heretrcs 
and  foreigners,  highly  applauded  the  war, 
which  gave  a  chance  of  its  recovery,  and 
seconded,  with  all  the  power  of  the  king- 
dom, the  gigantic  efforts  made  for  that  pur- 
pose. All  these  immense  preparations, 
with  the  most  formidable  means  of  attack 
ever  used  on  such  an  occasion,  had  totally 
failed,  and  the  kingdom  of  Spain  remained 
at  once  stunned  and  mortified  by  the  fail- 
are,  and  broken  down  by  the  expenses  of 
so  huge  an  undertaking.  An  attack  upon 
Algiers,  in  1784-5,  tended  to  exhaust  the 
remains  of  her  military  ardour.  Spain, 
therefore,  relapsed,  into  inactivity  and  re- 
pose, dispirited  by  the  miscarriage  of  her 
favourite  scheme,  and  possessing  neither 
the  means  nor  the  audacity  necessary  to 
meditate  its  speedy  renewal. 

?ft-.ither  were  the  sovereigns  of  the  late 
belligerent  powers  of  tliat  ambitious  and 
active  character  which  was  likely  to  drag 
the  kingdoms  which  they  swayed  into  the 
renewal  of  hostilities.  The  classic  eye  of 
the  historian  Gibbon  saw  Arcadius  and 
Honorius,  the  weakest  and  most  indolent 
of  the  Roman  Emperors,  slumbering  upon 
the  thrones  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  ;  and 
the  just  and  loyal  character  of  George  HI. 
precluded  any  effort  on  liis  p.ort  to  under- 
mine the  peace  which  he  signed  unwilling- 
ly, or  to  attempt  the  resumption  of  those 
rights  which  he  had  formerly,  though  reluc- 
tantly, surrendered.  His  expression  to  the 
ambassador  of  the  United  States,  was  a  trait 
of  character  never  to  be  omitted  or  forgot- 
ten ; — "  I  have  boen  the  last  man  in  my  do- 
minions to  accede  to  this  peace,  which  sep- 
arates America  from  my  kingdoms — I  will 
be  the  first  man,  now  it  is  made,  to  resist 
any  attempt  to  infringe  it." 

The   acute   historian  whom  v.e   have  .il- 


ready  quoted  seems  to  have  apprehended, 
in  the  character  and  ambition  of  the  north- 
em  potentates,  those  causes  of  disturbance 
which  were  not  to  be  found  in  the  western 
part  of  the  European  Republic.  But  Cadi- 
arine,  the  Semiramis  of  the  north,  had  her 
views  of  extensive  dominion  chiefly  turned 
towards  her  eastern  and  southern  frontier, 
and  the  finances  of  her  immense,  but  com- 
paratively poor  and  unpeopled  empire,  were 
burthened  with  the  expenses  of  a  luxurious 
court,  requiring  at  once  to  be  gratified  with 
the  splendour  of  Asia,  and  the  refinements 
of  Europe.  The  strength  of  her  empire 
also,  though  immense,  was  unwieldy,  and 
the  empire  had  not  been  uniformly  fortunate 
in  its  wars  with  the  more  prompt,  though 
less  numerous  armies  of  the  King  of  Prus- 
sia, her  neighbour.  Thus  Russia,  no  leas 
than  other  powers  in  Europe,  seemed  more 
desirous  of  reposing  her  gigantic  strength, 
than  of  adventuring  upon  new  and  hazardous 
conquests.  Even  her  viewe  upon  Turkey, 
which  circumstances  seemed  to  render 
more  flattering  than  ever,  she  was  content- 
ed to  resign,  in  1784,  when  only  half  ac- 
complished; a  pledge,  not  only  that  her 
thoughts  were  sincerely  bent  upon  peace, 
but  that  she  felt  the  necessity  of  resisting 
even  the  most  tempting  opi^ortunities  for 
resuming  the  course  of  victory  which  she 
had,  foul  j'canj  before,  pursued  so  success- 

fully. 

Frederick  of  Prussia  himself,  who  had 
been  so  long,  by  dint  of  genius  and  talent, 
the  animating  soul  of  the  political  intrigues 
in  Europe,  had  run  too  many  risks,  in  the 
course  of  his  adventurous  and  eventful 
reign,  to  be  desirous  of  encountering  new 
hazards  in  the  extremity  of  life.  His  em- 
pire, extended  as  it  was,  from  the  shores  of 
the  Baltic  to  the  frontiers  of  Holland,  con- 
sisted of  various  detached  portions,  which 
it  required  the  aid  of  lime  to  consolidate 
into  a  single  kingdom.  And,  accustomed 
to  study  the  signs  of  the  times,  it  could  not 
have  escaped  Frederick,  that  sentiments 
and  feelings  were  afloat,  connected  with, 
and  fostered  by,  the  spirit  of  unlimited  in- 
vestigation, which-  he  himself  had  termed 
philosophy,  such  as  might  soon  call  upon 
the  sovereigns  to  arm  in  a  common  cause, 
and  ought  to  prevent  them,  in  the  mean- 
while, from  wasting  their  strength  in  mutu- 
al struggles,  and  giving  advantage  to  a 
common  enemy. 

If  such  anticipations  occupied  and  agi- 
tated the  last  years  of  Frederick's  life,  they 
had  not  the  same  effect  upon  the  Emperor 
Joseph  II.  who,  without  the  same  clear- 
eyed  precision  of  judgment,  endeavoured 
to  tread  in  the  steps  of  the  King  of  Prussia, 
as  a  reformer,  and  as  a  conqueror.  It  would 
be  unjust  to  deny  to  this  prince  the  praise 
of  considerable  talents,  and  inclination  to 
employ  them  for  the  good  of  the  country 
which  he  ruled.  But  it  frequently  happens, 
that  the  talents,  and  even  the  virtues  or 
sovereigns,  exercised  without  respect  to 
time  and  circumstances,  become  the  mis- 
fortune of  their  government.  It  is  particu- 
larly the  lot  of  princes,  endowed  with  such 
personal    advantages,    to   be   confident   in 


Chap.  /.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


21 


their  own  abilities,  and,  unless  educated  in 
the  severe  school  of  adversity,  to  prefer 
favourites,  who  assent  to,  and  repeat  their 
opinions,  to  independent  counsellors,  whose 
experience  might  correct  their  own  hasty 
conclusions.  And  thus,  although  the  per- 
sonal merits  of  Joseph  IL  were  in  every 
respect  acknowledged,  his  talents  in  a  great 
measure  recognized,  and  his  patriotic  in- 
tentions scarcely  disputable,  it  fell  to  his 
lot,  during  the  period  we  treat  of,  to  excite 
more  apprehension  and  discontent  among 
his  subjects,  than  had  he  been  a  prince 
content  to  rule  by  a  minister,  and  wear  out 
an  indolent  life  in  the  forms  and  pleasures 
of  a  court.  Accordingly,  the  emperor,  in 
many  of  his  schemes  of  reform,  too  hastily 
adopted,  or  at  least  too  incautiously  and 
peremptorily  executed,  had  the  misfortune 
to  introduce  fearful  commotions  among  the 
people,  whose  situation  he  meant  to  ameli- 
orate, while  in  his  external  relations  he 
rendered  Austria  the  quarter  from  which  a 
breach  of  European  peace  was  most  to  be 
apprehended.  It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the 
Emperor  had  contrived  to  reconcile  his 
philosophical  professions  with  the  exercise 
of  the  most  selfish  policy  towards  the  Unit- 
ed Provinces,  both  in  opening  the  Scheldt, 
and  in  dismantling  the  barrier  towns,  which 
had  been  placed  in  the«r  hands  as  a  defence 
against  the  power  of  France.  By  the  first  or 
these  measures  the  Emperor  gained  nothing 
but  the  paltry  sum  of  money  for  which  he 
sold  his  pretensions,  and  the  shame  of  hav- 
ing shown  himself  ungrateful  for  the  impor- 
tant services  which  the  United  Provinces 
had  rendered  to  his  ancestors.  But  the 
dismantling  of  the  Dutch  barrier  was  subse- 
quently attended  by  circumstances  alike 
calamitous  to  Austria,  and  to  the  whole 
continent  of  Europe. 

In  another  respect,  the  reforms  carried 
through  by  Joseph  II.  tended  to  prepare  the 
public  mind  for  future  innovations  made 
with  a  ruder  hand,  and  upon  a  much  larger 
«cale.  The  suppression  of  the  religious 
orders,  and  the  appropriation  of  their  reve- 
nues to  the  general  purposes  of  govern- 
ment, had  in  it  something  to  flatter  the 
feelings  of  those  of  the  reformed  religion  ; 
but,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  the  seizing 
upon  the  property  of  any  private  individu- 
«J,  or  public  body,  is  an  invasion  of  the 
most  sacred  principles  of  public  justice, 
and  such  spoliation  cannot  be  vindicated 
by  urgent  circumstances  of  state  necessity, 
or  any  plausible  pretext  of  state-advantage 
whatsoever,  since  no  necessity  can  vindi- 
cate what  is  in  itself  unjust,  and  no  public 
ttdvantaige  can  compensate  a  breach  of 
public  faith.  Joseph  was  also  the  first 
Catholic  sovereign  who  broke  through  the 
«olcmn  degree  of  reverence  attached  by 
that  religion  to  the  person  of  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff.  The  Pope's  fruitless  and  humili- 
ating visit  to  Vienna  furnished  the  shadow 
of  a  precedent  for  the  conduct  of  Napoleon 
to  Pius  VII. 

-Another  and  yet  less  justifiable  cause  of 
Innovation,  placed  in  peril,  and  left  in  doubt 
•nd  discontent  some  of  the  fairest  provinc- 
es of  the  Austrian    dominions,  and   those 


which  the  wisest  of  their  princes  had  gor» 
erned  with  peculiar  tenderness  and  moder- 
ation. The  Austrian  Netherlands  had  been 
in  a  literal  sense  dismantled  and  left  open 
to  the  first  invader,  by  the  demolition  of 
the  barrier  fortresses  ;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  the  systematic  purpose  of  the  Empe- 
ror to  eradicate  and  destroy  that  love  and 
regard  for  their  prince  and  his  government, 
which  in  time  of  need  proves  the  most  ef- 
fectual moral  substitute  for  moats  and  ram- 
parts. The  history  of  the  house  of  Burgun-i 
dy  bore  witness  on  every  page  to  the  love 
of  the  Flemings  for  liberty,  and  the  jealousy 
with  which  they  have  from  the  earliest  age"« 
watched  the  privileges  they  had  obtain- 
ed from  their  princes.  Yet  in  that  coun- 
try, and  amongst  those  people,  Joseph  car- 
ried on  his  measures  of  innovation  with  a 
hand  so  unsparing,  as  if  he  meant  to  bring 
the  question  of  liberty  or  arbitrary  power 
to  a  very  brief  and  military  decision  be- 
twixt him  and  his  subjects. 

His  alterations  were  not  in  Flanders,  aa 
elsewhere,  confined  to  the  ecclesiastical 
state  alone,  although  such  innovations  were 
peculiarly  offensive  to  a  people  rigidly 
Catholic,  but  were  extended  through  the 
most  important  parts  of  the  civil  govern- 
ment. Changes  in  the  courts  of  justice 
were  threatened — the    Great    Seal,  which 

ha<l  hithorio  r<>m.iin«>d  vfith  the  Chancellor 

of  the  States,  was  transferred  to  the  Impe- 
rial Minister — a  Council  of  State,  compos- 
ed of  Commissioners  nominated  by  the 
Emperor,  was  appointed  to  discharge  the 
duties  hitherto  intrusted  to  the  Standing 
Committee  of  the  States  of  Brabant — their 
Universities  were  altered  and  new-model- 
led— and  their  magistrates  subjected  to  ar- 
bitrary arrests  and  sent  to  Vienna,  instead 
of  being  tried  in  their  own  country  and  by 
their  own  laws.  The  Flemish  people  be- 
held these  innovations  with  the  sentiments 
natural  to  freemen,  and  not  a  little  stimu- 
lated certainly  by  the  scenes  which  had 
lately  passed  in  North  America,  where,  un- 
der circumstances  of  far  less  provocation,  a 
large  empire  had  emancipated  itself  from 
the  mother  country.  The  states  remon- 
strated loudly,  and  refused  subuiission  to 
the  decrees  which  encroached  on  their  con- 
stitutional liberties,  and  at  length  arrayed  a 
military  force  in  support  of  their  patriotic 
opposition. 

Joseph,  who  at  the  same  time  he  thug 
wantonly  provoked  the  States  and  people  of 
Flanders,  had  been  seduced  by  Russia  to 
join  her  ambitious  plan  upon  Turkey,  bent 
apparently  before  the  storm  he  had  excited, 
and  for  a  time  yielded  to  accommodation 
with  his  subjects  of  Flanders,  renounced 
the  most  obnoxious  of  his  new  measures, 
and  confirmed  the  privileges  of  the  nation 
at  what  was  called  the  Joyous  Entry.  But 
this  spirit  of  conciliation  was  only  assumed 
for  the  purpose  of  deception  ;  for  so  soon 
as  he  had  assembled  in  Flanders  what  waa 
deemed  a  sufficient  armed  force  to  sustain 
his  despotic  purposes,  the  Emperor  threw 
off"  the  mask,  and,  by  the  most  violent  acts 
of  military  force,  endeavoured  to  overthrow 
the  constitution  he  had  agreed  to  observe, 


22 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  I. 


and  to  enforce  the  arbitrary  measures  which 
he  had  pretended  td  abandon.  For  a  brief 
period  of  two  years,  Flanders  remained  in 
a  state  of  suppressed,  but  deeply-founded 
and  wide  extended  discontent,  watching 
for  a  moment  favourable  to  freedom  and  to 
vengeance.  It  proved  an  ample  store-house 
of  combustibles,  prompt  to  catch  fire  as  the 
flame  now  arising  in  France  began  to  ex- 
pand itself  5  nor  can  it  be  doubted,  that  the 
condition  of  the  Flemish  provinces,  wheth- 
er considered  in  a  military  or  in  a  political 
light,  was  one  of  the  principal  causes  of  the 
•ubsequent  success  of  the  French  republi- 
can arms.  Joseph  himself,  broken-hearted 
and  dispirited,  died  in  the  very  beginning 
of  the  troubles  he  had  wantonly  provoked. 
Desirous  of  fame  as  a  legislator  and  a  war- 
rior, and  certainly  born  with  talents  to  ac- 
quire It,  he  left  his  arms  dishonoured  by  the 
•uccesses  of  the  despised  Turks,  and  his 
fair  dominions  of  the  Netherlands  and  of 
Hungary  upon  the  very  eve  of  insurrection. 
A  lampoon,  writton  upon  the  Hospital  for 
lunatics  at  Vienna,  might  be  said  to  be  no 
unjust  epitaph  for  a  monarch,  once  so  hope- 
ful and  so  beloved — Josephus  ubique  Sectin- 
dus — hie  Primus. 

These  Flemish  disturbances  might  be  re- 
garded as  symptoms  of  tho  new  opinions 
which  were  tacitly  gaining  ground  in  Eu- 
rope, and  which  precedfdtne  grand  explo- 
sion, as  slight  shocks  of  an  earthquake  usu- 
ally announce  the  approach  of  its  general 
con\Tilsion.  The  like  may  be  said  of  the 
short  lived  Dutch  Revolution  of  1787,  in 
which  the  ancient  faction  of  Louvestein, 
under  the  encouragement  of  France,  for  a 
lime  completely  triumphed  over  that  of  the 
Stadliolder,  deposed  him  from  his  hereditary 
command  of  Captain-General  of  the  Army 
of  the  States,  and  reduced,  or  endeavoured 
to  reduce,  the  Confederation  of  the  United 
States  to  a  pure  democracy.  This  was  al- 
io a  strong  sign  of  the  times  ;  for  although 
totally  opposite  to  the  inclination  of  the 
majority  of  the  States-General,  of  the  eques- 
trian body,  of  the  landed  proprietors,  nay,  of 
the  very  populace,  most  of  whom  were  from 
habit  and  principle  attached  to  the  House  of 
Orange,  the  burghers  of  the  large  towns 
drove  on  the  work  of  revolution  with  such 
warmth  of  zeal  and  promptitude  of  action, 
aa  showed  a  great  part  of  the  middling  class- 
es to  be  deeply  tinctured  with  the  desire  of 
gaining  further  liberty,  and  a  larger  share 
in  the  legislation  and  administration  of  the 
country,  than  pertained  to  them  under  the 
old  oligarchical  constitution. 

The  revolutionary  government  in  the 
Dutch  provinces,  did  not,  however,  conduct 
their  affairs  with  prudence.  Without  wait- 
ing to  organize  their  own  force,  or  weaken 
that  of  the  enemy — without  obtaining  the 
necessary  countenance  and  protection  of 
France,  or  co-operating  with  the  malcon- 
tents in  the  Austrian  Netherlands,  they 
ffa.ve,  by  arresting  the  Princess  of  Orange 
(sister  of  the  King  of  Prussia),  an  opportu- 
nity of  foreign  interference,  of  which  that 
prince  failed  not  to  avail  himself.  His  ar- 
mies poured  into  the  Netherlands,  com- 
manded by   the   Duke  of  Brunswick,  and 


with  little  difficulty  possessed  themselvea 
of  Utrecht,  Amsterdam,  and  the  other  cit- 
ies  which  constituted  the  strength  of  the 
Louvestein  or  republican  faction.  The 
King  then  replaced  the  House  of  Or- 
ange in  all  its  power,  privileges,  and  func- 
tions. The  conduct  of  the  Dutch  republi- 
cans during  their  brief  hour  of  authority  had 
been  neither  so  moderate  nor  so  popular  aa 
to  make  their  sudden  and  almost  unresist- 
ing fall  a  matter  of  general  regret.  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  considered  as  a  probable 
pledge  of  the  continuance  of  peace  in  Eu- 
rope, especially  as  France,  busied  with  her 
own  affairs,  declined  interference  in  those 
of  the  United  States. 

The  intrigues  of  Russia  had, in  accomplish- 
ment of  the  ambitious  schemes  of  Catharine, 
lighted  up  war  with  Sweden,  as  well  as 
with  Turkey  ;-  but  in  both  cases  hostilities 
were  commenced  upon  the  old  plan  of  fight* 
ing  one  or  two  battles,  and  wresting  a  for- 
tress or  a  province  from  a  neighbouring  state; 
and  it  seems  likely,  that  the  intervention 
of  Frapi.e  and  England,  equally  interested 
in  prp>>erving  the  balance  of  power,  might 
have  ended  these  troubles,  but  for  the  prog- 
ress of  that  great  and  hitherto  unheard-of 
course  of  events,  which  prepared,  carried 
on,  and  matured,  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. 

II  io  noocooary,  Far  the  cxecution  of  our 
plan,  that  we  should  review  this  period  of 
history,  the  most  important,  perhaps,  during 
its  currency,  and  in  its  consequences,  whicE 
the  annals  of  mankind  afford  ;  and  although 
the  very  title  is  sufficient  to  awaken  in 
most  bosoms  either  horror  or  admiration, 
yet  neither  insensible  of  the  blessings  or 
national  liberty,  nor  of  those  which  flow 
from  the  protection  of  just  laws,  and  a  nio^ 
erate  but  firm  executive  government,  ■»« 
may  perhaps  be  enabled  to  trace  its  events 
with  the  candour  of  one,  who,  looking  back 
on  past  scenes,  feels  divested  of  the  keen 
and  angry  spirit  with  which,  in  common 
with  his  contemporaries,  he  may  have  judg- 
ed them  while  they  were  yet  in  progress. 

We  have  shortly  reviewed  the  state  of 
Europe  in  general,  which  we  have  seen  to 
be  either  pacific,  or  disturbed  by  troubles 
of  no  long  duration  ;  but  it  was  in  France 
that  a  thousand  circumstances,  some  aris- 
ing out  of  the  general  history  of  the  world, 
some  peculiar  to  that  country  herself,  min- 
gled like  the  ingredients  of  the  witches' 
cauldron,  to  produce  in  succession  many 
a  formidable  but  passing  apparition,  until 
concluded  by  the  stern  Vision  of  absolute 
and  military  power,  as  those  in  the  drama 
are  introduced  by  tliat  of  the  Armed  Head 

The  first  and  most  effective  cause  of  the 
Revolution,  was  the  change  which  had  tak- 
en place  in  the  feelings  of  the  French  to- 
wards their  government,  and  the  monarch 
who  was  at  its  head.  Thq.devoted  loj'alty 
of  the  people  to  their  king  had  oeen  for 
several  ages  the  most  marked  characteristic 
of  the  nation  ;  it  was  their  honour  in  their 
own  eyes,  and  matter  of  contempt  and  ridi 
cule  in  those  of  the  English,  because  it 
seemed  in  its  excess  to  swallow  up  all  ideaa 
of  patriotism.    That  very  exceBs  of  loyalty, 


Chap.  /.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


23 


however,  wns  founded  not  on  a  servile,  but 
on  a  generous  principle.  France  is  ambi- 
tious, fond  of  mflitary  glory,  and  willingly 
identifies  herself  with  the  fame  acquired  by 
her  soldiers.  Do^vn  to  the  reign  of  Louis 
XV.,  the  French  monarch  was,  in  the  eyes 
of  his  subjects,  a  general,  and  the  whole 

Seople  an  army.  An  army  must  be  un- 
er  severe  discipline,  and  a  general  must 
possess  absolute  power ;  but  the  soldier 
feels  no  degradation  from  the  restraint 
which  is  necessary  to  his  profession,  and 
without  which  he  cannot  be  led  to  conquest. 
Every  true  Frenchman,  therefore,  sub- 
mitted, without  scruple,  to  that  abridge- 
ment of  personal  liberty  which  appeared 
necessary  to  render  the  monarch  great,  and 
France  victorious.  The  king,  according 
to  this  system,  was  regarded  less  as  an  in- 
dividual than  as  the  representative  of  the 
concentrated  honour  of  the  kingdom  ;  and 
in  this  sentiment,  however  extravagant  and 
Quixotic,  there  mingled  much  that  was  gen- 
erous, patriotic,  and  disinterested.  The 
same  feeling  was  awakened  after  all  the 
changes  of  the  Revolution,  by  the  wonder- 
fiil  successes  of  the  individual  of  whom  the 
future  volumes  are  to  treat,  and  who  trans- 
ferred in  many  instances  to  his  own  person, 
by  deeds  almost  exceeding  credibility,  the 
species  of  devoted  attachment  with  which 
France  formerly  regarrfpH  tho  .innient  line 
of  her  kings. 

Thenobility  shared  with  the  king  in  the 
advantages  which  this  predilection  spread 
around  him.  If  the  monarch  was  regarded 
as  the  chief  ornament  of  the  community, 
they  were  the  minor  gems  by  whose  lustre 
that  of  the  crown  was  relieved  or  adorned. 
If  he  was  the*supreme  general  of  the  state, 
they  were  the  officers  attached  to  his  person, 
■and  necessary  to  the  execution  of  his  com- 
mands, each  in  his  degree  bound  to  advance 
the  honour  and  glory  of  the  common  country. 
When  such  sentiments  were  at  their  height, 
there  could  be  no  murmuring  against  the 
peculiar  privileges  of  the  nobility,  any  more 
than  against  the  almost  absolute  authority 
of  tho  monarch.  Each  had  that  rank  in 
the  state  which  was  regarded  as  their  birth- 
right, and  for  one  of  the  lower  orders  to  re- 
pine that  he  enjoyed  not  the  immunities  pe- 
culiar to  the  noblesse,  would  have  been  as 
unavailing,  and  as  foolish,  as  to  lament  that 
he  wag  not  born  to  an  independent  estate. 
Thus,  the  Frenchman,  contented,  though 
with  an  illusion,  laughed,  danced,  and  in- 
dulged all  the  gaiety  of  his  national  char- 
acter, in  circumstances  under  which  his  in- 
sular neighbours  would  have  thought  the 
slightest  token  of  patience  dishonourable 
and  degrading.  The  distress  or  privation 
which  the  French  plebeian  suffered  in  his 
own  person,  was  made  up  to  him  in  imagin- 
ation by  his  interest  in  the  national  glory. 

Was  a  citizen  of  Paris  postponed  in  rank 
to  the  lowest  military  officer,  he  consoled 
himself  by  reading  the  victories  of  the 
French  arms  in  the  Gazette  ;  and  was  he 
nnduly  and  unequally  taxed  to  support  the 
expense  of  the  crown,  still  the  public 
feasts  which  were  given,  and  the  palaces 
which  were  built,  were  to  him  a  source  of 


compensation.    He  looked  on  at  the  Carou 

sel,he  admired  the  splendour  of  Versailles, 
and  enjoyed  a  reflected  sliare  of  their 
splendour,  in  recollecting  that  they  display- 
ed the  magnificence  of  his  country.  This 
state  of  things,  however  illusory,  seemed, 
while  the  illusion  lasted,  to  realize  the  wish 
of  those  legislators,  who  have  endeavoured 
to  form  a  general  fund  of  national  happiness, 
from  which  each  individual  is  to  draw  his 
personal  share  of  enjoyment.  If  the  mon- 
arch enjoyed  the  display  of  his  own  grace 
and  agility,  while  he  hunted,  or  rode  at 
the  ring,  the  spectators  had  their  share  of 
pleasure  in  witnessing  it  :  if  Louis  had  the 
satisfaction  of  beholding  the  splendid  piles 
of  Versailles  and  the  Louvre  arise  at  his 
command,  the  subject  admired  them  when 
raised,  and  his  real  portion  of  pleasure  was 
not,  perhaps,  inferior  to  that  of  the  founder. 
The  people  were  like  men  inconveniently 
placed  in  a  crowded  theatre,  who  think 
but  little  of  the  personal  inconveniences 
they  arc  subjected  to  by  the  lieat  and  pres- 
sure, w}!ile  their  mind  is  engrossed  by  the 
splendours  of  the  representation.  In  short, 
not  only  the  political  opinions  of  French- 
men, but  their  actual  feelings,  were,  in  the 
earlier  days  of  the  eighteenth  century,  ex- 
pressed in  the  motto  which  they  chose  for 
their  national  palace. — "  Earth  hath  no  Na- 
tion like  the  Fxench — no  Nation  a  city  like 
Paris,  or  a  King  like  Louis." 

The  French  enjoyed  this  assumed  supe- 
riority with  the  less  chance  of  being  unde- 
ceived, that  they  listened  not  to  any  voice 
from  other  lands,  which  pointed  out  the 
deficiencies  in  the  frame  of  government 
under  which  they  lived,  or  which  hinted  the 
superior  privileges  enjoyed  by  the  subjects 
of  a  more  free  state.  The  intense  love  of  our 
own  country,  and  admiration  of  its  consti- 
tution, is  usually  accompanied  with  a  con- 
tempt or  dislike  of  foreign  states,  and  their 
modes  of  government.  The  French,  in  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  enamoured  of  their 
own  institutions,  regarded  those  of  other 
nations  as  unworthy  of  their  consideration; 
and  if  they  paused  for  a  moment  to  gaze  on 
the  complicated  constitution  of  their  great 
rival,  it  was  soon  dismissed  as  a  subject  to- 
tally unintelligible,  with  some  expression 
of  pity,  perhaps,  for  the  poor  sovereign  who 
had  the  ill  luck  to  preside  over  a  govern- 
ment embarrassed  by  so  many  restraints 
and  limitations.*  Yet,  into  whatever  polit- 
ical errors  the  French  people  were  le(f  by 
the  excess  of  their  loyaity,  it  would  be  unjust 
to  brand  them  as  a  natio'i  of  a  mean  and  slav- 
ish spirit.  Servitude  infers  dishonour,  and 
dishonour  to  a  Frenchman  is  the  last  of  evils. 
Burke  more  justly  regarded  them  as  a  peo- 
ple misled  to  their  disadvantage,  by  high 
and  romantic  ideas  of  honour  and  fidelity, 
and  who,  actuated  by  a  principle  of  public 
spirit  in  their  submission  to  tlieir  monarchy 
worshipped  in  his  person  tlie  fortune  of 
France,  their  common  country. 

During  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  every 

*  The  old  French  proverb  bore, 

Le  roi  d'Angleterre 
Est  le  roi  d'Enfer. 


«4 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


IChap.  I. 


thing  tended  to  support  the  sentimant  wliich 
connected  the  national  honour  with  the 
wara  and  undertakings  of  the  king.  His 
•uccess,  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  reign, 
waa  splendid,  and  he  might  be  regarded  for 
many  years,  as  the  Dictator  of  Europe. 
During  this  period,  the  universal  opinion 
of  his  talents,  together  with  his  successes 
abroad,  and  his  magnificence  at  home,  fos- 
tered the  idea  that  the  Grand  Monaique 
was  in  himself  the  tutelar  deity,  and  only 
representative  of  the  great  nation  whose 
powers  he  wielded.  Sorrow  and  desolation 
came  on  his  latter  years  ;  but  be  it  said  to 
honour  of  the  French  people,  that  the  devot- 
ed allegiance  they  had  paid  to  Louis  in  pros- 
perity, was  not  withdrawn  when  fortune 
•ecmed  to  have  turned  her  back  upon  her 
original  favourite.  France  poured  her  youtli 
forth  as  readily,  if  not  so  gaily,  to  repair  the 
defeats  of  her  monarch's  old  age,  as  she  had 
previously  yielded  them  to  secure  and  ex- 
tend the  victories  of  his  early  reign.  Lou- 
is had  perfectly  succeeded  in  establishing 
the  crown  as  the  sole  pivot  upon  which  pub- 
lic affairs  turned,  and  in  attaching  to  his 
person,  as  the  representative  of  France,  all 
the  importance  which  in  other  countries  is 
given  to  the  great  body  of  the  nation. 

Nor  had  the  spirit  of  the  French   mon- 
arcUy,  in  surrounding   itself  with   all   the 

dignity  of  al)60lUt«  power,  failed  to-occTirc 

the  support  of  those  auxiliaries  which  have 
the  most  extended  influence  upon  the  pub- 
lic mind,  by  engaging  at  once  religion  and 
iiterature  in  defence  of  its  authority.  The 
(Jallican  Church,  more  dependent  upon 
the  monarch,  and  less  so  upon  the  Pope, 
tlian  is  usual  in  Catholic  countries,  gave  to 
the  power  of  the  crown  all  the  mysterious 
and  supernatural  terrors  annexed  to  an  ori- 
;fin  in  divine  right,  and  directed  against 
those  who  encroached  on  the  limits  of  the 
royal  prerogative,  or  even  ventured  to  scru- 
tinise too  minutely  the  foundation  of  its 
authority,  the  penalties  annexed  to  a  breach 
(d  the  divine  law.  Louis  XIV.  repaid  this 
important  service  by  a  constant,  and  even 
tcnipulous  attention  to  observances  pre- 
ecribed  by  the  church,  which  strengthened, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  the  alliance  so 
•trictly  formed  betwixt  the  altar  and  the 
throne.  Those  who  look  to  the  private 
morals  of  the  monarch  may  indeed  form 
some  doubt  of  the  sincerity  of  his  religious 
professions,  considering  how  little  they  in- 
niienced  his  practice  ;  and  yet  when  we 
reflect  upon  the  frequent  inconsistencies 
of  mankind  in  tliis  particular,  we  may  hes- 
itate to  charge  with  hypocrisy  a  conduct, 
which  was  dictated  perhaps  as  much  by 
;onBcience  as  by  political  convenience. 
Even  judging  more  severely,  it  must  be 
•llowed  that  hypocrisy,  though  so  dif- 
erent  from  religion,  indicates  its  exist- 
ence, as  smoke  points  out  that  of  pure  fire. 
Hypocrisy  cannot  exist  unless  religion  be 
•d  a  certain  extent  held  in  esteem,  because 
no  one  would  be  at  the  trouble  to  assume  a 
mask  which  was  not  respectable,  and  so 
hi  compliance  with  the  external  forms  of 
religion  is  a  tribute  paid  to  the  doctrines 
which  it  teaches.    The  hypocrite  assumes 


a  virtue  if  he  %as  it  not,  and  the  example 
of  his  conduct  may  be  salutary  to  others, 
though  his  pretensions  to  piety  are  wick- 
edness to  Him,  who  trieth  the  heart  and 
reins. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Academy  fbrmed 
by  the  wily  Richelieu  served  to  unite  th« 
literature  of  France  into  one  focus,  undei 
the  immediate  patronage  of  the  crown,  to 
whose  bounty  its  professors  were  taught  to 
look  even  for  the  very  meains  of  subsistence. 
The  greater  nobles  caught  this  ardour  of  pat- 
ronage from  the  sovereign,  and  as  the  latter 
pensioned  and  supported  the  principal  liter- 
ary characters  of  his  reign,  the  former  grant- 
ed shelter  and  support  to  others  of  the  sams 
rank,  who  were  lodged  at  their  hotels,  fed 
at  their  tables,  and  were  admitted  to  their 
society  upon  terms  somewhat  less  de- 
grading than  those  which  were  granted  to 
artists  and  musicians,  and  who  gave  to  th« 
Great,  knowledge  or  amusement  in  ex- 
change for  the  hospitality  they  received. 
Men  in  a  situation  so  subordinate,  could 
only  at  first  accommodate  their  composi- 
tions to  the  taste  and  interest  of  their  pro- 
tectors. They  heightened  by  adulation  and 
flattery  the  claims  of  the  king  and  the  no- 
bles upon  the  community  ;  and  the  nation, 
indHferent  at  that  time  to  all  literaturs 
which  was  not  of  native  growth,  felt  their 
respect  for  their  own  government  enhanced 
and  extended  by  the  works  of  those  men  of 
genius  who  flourished  under  its  protection. 
Such  was  the  system  of  French  monarchy, 
and  such  it  remained,  in  outward  show  at 
least,  until  the  Peace  of  Fontainbleau.  But 
its  foundation  had  been  gradually  under- 
mined ;  public  opinion  had  undergone  a 
silent  but  almost  a  total  change,  and  it 
might  be  compared  to  some  ancient  tower 
swayed  from  its  base  by  the  lapse  of  time, 
and  waiting  the  first  blast  of  a  hurricane,  or 
shock  of  an  earthquake,  to  be  prostrated  in 
Uie  dust.  How  the  lapse  of  half  a  century, 
or  little  more,  could  have  produced  a 
change  so  total,  must  next  be  considered  ; 
and  this  can  only  be  done  by  viewing  sepa- 
rately the  various  changes  which  the  lapse 
of  years  had  produce i  o;i  the  various  or- 
ders of  the  State. 

First,  then,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  in 
these  latter  times  the  wasting  eftects  of 
luxury  and  vanity  had  totally  ruined  a  great 
part  of  the  French  nobility,  a  word  which,  in 
respect  to  that  country,  comprehended  what 
is  called  in  Britain  the  nobility  and  gen- 
try, or  natural  aristocracy  of  the  kingdam. 
This  body,  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV., 
though  far  even  then  from  supporting  the 
part  which  tlieir  fathers  had  acted  in  histo- 
ry, yet  existed,  as  it  were,  through  their  re- 
membrances, and  disguised  their  depend- 
ence upon  the  throne  by  the  outward  sho\»  • 
of  fortune,  as  well  as  by  the  consequence 
attached  to  liereditary  right.  They  were 
one  step  nearer  the  days,  not  then  totally 
forgotten,  when  the  nobles  of  France,  witn 
their  retainers,  actually  for  ned  the  army 
of  the  kingdom  ;  and  they  still  presented, 
to  the  imagination  at  least,  the  descendants 
of  a  body  of  chivalrous  heroes,  ready  to 
tread  in  the  path  of  their  ancestors,  should 


Chap.  J] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


25 


the  times  ever  render  necessary  the  calling 
forth  the  Ban,  or  Arriere-Ban — the  feudal 
array  of  the  Gallic  chivalry.  But  this  de- 
lusion had  passed  away  j  the  defence  of 
states  was  intrusted  in  France,  as  in  other 
countries,  to  the  exertions  of  a  standing  ar- 
my ;  and  in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  the  nobles  of  France  presented  a 
melancholy  contrast  to  their  predecessors. 
The  number  of  the  order  was  of  itself 
sufficient  to  diminish  its  consequence.  It 
had  been  imprudently  increased  by  new 
creations.  There  were  in  the  kingdom 
about  eightj'  thousand  families  enjoying  the 
privileges  of  nobility ;  and  the  order  was 
divided  into  different  classes,  which  looked 
on  each  other  with  mutual  jealousy  and 
contempt. 

The  nrst  general  distinction  was  betwixt 
the  Ancient  and  Modem,  or  new  noblesse. 
The  former  were  nobles  of  old  creation, 
whose  ancestors  had  obtained  their  rank 
from  real  or  supposed  services  rendered  to 
the  nation  in  her  councils  or  her  battles. 
The  new  nobles  had  found  an  easier  ac- 
cess to  the  same  elevation,  by  the  purchase 
of  territories,  or  of  offices,  or  of  letters  of 
nobility,  any  of  which  easy  modes  invested 
the  owners  with  titles  and  rank,  often  held 
by  men  whose  wealth  had  been  accumulat- 
ed in  mean  and  sordid  occupations,  or  by 
farmers-general,  and,  financiers  whom  the 
people  considered  as  acquiring  their  for- 
tunes at  the  expense  of  the  state.  These 
numerous  additions  to  the  privileged  body 
of  nobles  accorded  ill  with  its  original  com- 
position, and  introduced  schism  and  disun- 
ion into  the  body  itself.  The  descendants 
of  the  ancient  chivalry  of  France  looked 
with  scorn  and  contempt  upon  the  new 
men,  who,  rising  perhaps  from  the  very  lees 
of  the  people,  claimed  from  superior  wealth 
a  share  in  the  privileges  of  the  aristocracy. 
Again,  secondly,  there  was  amongst  the 
ancient  nobles  themselves,  but  too  ample 
room  for  division  between  the  upper  and 
wealthier  class  of  nobility,  who  had  fortunes 
adequate  to  maintain  their  rtink,  and  the 
much  more  numerous  body,  whose  poverty 
rendered  them  pensioners  upon  the  state 
for  the  means  of  supporting  their  dignity. 
Of  about  one  thousandhouses,of  which  the 
ancient  noblesse  is  computed  to  have  con- 
sisted, there  were  not  above  two  or  three 
hundred  families  who  had  retained  the 
means  of  maintaining  their  rank  without 
the  assistance  of  the  crown.  Their  claims 
to  monopolize  commissions  in  the  army, 
and  situations  in  the  government,  together 
with  their  exemption  from  taxes,  were  their 
■ole  resources ;  resources  burthensome  to 
the  state,  and  odious  to  the  people,  with- 
out being  in  the  same  degree  beneficial  to 
those  who  enjoyed  them.  Even  in  milita- 
ry service,  which  was  considered  as  their 
birthright,  the  nobility  of  the  second  class 
were  seldom  permitted  to  rise  above  a  cer- 
tain limited  rank.  Long  service  might  ex- 
alt one  of  them  to  the  grade  of  lieutenant- 
colonel,  or  the  government  of  some  small 
town,  but  all  the  better  rewards  of  a  life 
spent  in  the  army  were  reserved  for  nobles 
wthe  highest  order.  It  followed  aa  a  matter 
Vofc.  L  B 


of  course,  that  amidst  so  many  of  this  priv.- 
ileged  body  who  languished  in  poverty,  anoi 
could  not  rise  from  it  by  the  ordinary  paths' 
of  industry,  some  must  have  had  recourse  to 
loose  and  dishonourable  practices  ;  and  that 
gambling-houses  and  places  of  debauchery 
should  have  been  frequented  and  patronized 
by  individuals,  whose  ancient  descent,  ti- 
tles, and  emblems  of  nobility,  did  not  save 
them  from  the  suspicion  of  very  dishonoura- 
ble conduct,  the  disgrace  of  which  affected 
the  character  of  the  whole  body. 

There  must  be  noticed  a  third  classifica- 
tion of  the  order,into  the  Haute  Noblesse, or 
men  of  the  highest  rank,  most  of  whom  spent 
their  lives  at  court,  and  in  discharge  ot  the 
great  offices  of  the  crown  and  state,  and  the 
Noblesse  Campagnarde,  who  continued  to 
reside  upon  their  patrimonial  estates  in  the 
provinces. 

The  noblesse  of  the  latter  class  had  fal- 
len gradually  into  a  state  of  general   con- 
tempt, which  was  deeply  to  be  regretted. 
They  were   ridiculed  and  scorned  by  the 
courtiers,  who   despised  the    rusticity   of 
their  manners,  and  by  the  nobles  of  new. 
creation,    who,    conscious   of    their    ov. 
wealth,  conten.ned  the  poverty  of  those  an- 
cient but  decayed  families.     The    ''bold 
peasant"  himself  is   not  more  a  kingdom's 
pride  than  is  the  plain  country  gentleman, 
who,  living  on  his  own  means,  and  amongst 
his  own  people,  becomes  the  natural  pro- 
tector and  referee  of  the   farmer  and  the 
peasant,  and  in  case  of  need,  either  the 
firmest  asserter  of  their  rights  and  his  own 
against  the  aggressions  of  the  crown,  or  the 
independent  and  undaunted  defender  of  the 
cro-wn's  rights,  against  the  innovations  of 
political  fanaticism.     In  La  Vendue  alone 
the  nobles   had  united  their   interest  anci 
their  fortune  with  those  of  the  peasants  who 
cultivated  their  estates,  and  there  alone 
were  they  found  in  their  proper  and  honoura- 
ble character  of  proprietors  residing- on  their 
own  dominions,  and  discharging  the  duties 
which  are  inalienably  attached  to  the  own- 
er of  landed  property.    And — mark-worthy 
circumstance  ! — in  La  Vendue  alone  wajj 
any  stand  made  in  behalf  of  the  ancient  pro- 
prietors, constitution,  or  religion  of  France  ; 
for  there  alone  the  nobles  and  the  cultiva- 
tors of  the  soil  held  towards  each  other  their 
natural  and  proper  relations  of  patron  and 
client,  faithful  dependents,   and   gene'ous 
and  affectionate   superior's.     In   the  other 
provinces  of  France,  the  nobility,  speakicg 
generally,  possessed  neither  power  nor  in- 
fluence among  the  peasantry,  while  the  pop- 
ulation around  them  was  guided  and  iiiflu 
enced  by  men  belonging  to  the  church,  to 
the  law,  or  to  business ;  classes  which  were 
in  general  bett^JUducated,  better  informe4. 
and  possessed  ofmbre  tal'^nt  and  knowle^je 
of  the  world,  than  the  poor  Noblesse  0 
Campagnarde,  who  seemed  as  much  IpnLk- 
ed,   caged,  and   imprisoned  within  the  re- 
straints of  their  rank,  as  if  they  bad  been 
shut  up  within  the  dungeons  of  tke'.r  ruiu- 
ous  chateaux ;  and  who  had  only  th^. titles 
and  dusty  parchments  to  oppose  to  tke  real 
superiority  of  wealth  and  infortimti<»n  so 
generally  to  be  found  in  the  dass  wiucit 


26 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  I. 


they  affected  to  despise.  Hence,  Sdgur 
describes  the  country  gentlemen  of  his 
Tounger  days  as  punctilious,  ignorant,  and 
<luarA;lsome,  shunned  by  the  better  inform- 
ed of  the  middle  classes,  idle  and  dissipat- 
ed, and  wasting  their  leisure  hours  in  cof- 
fee-houses, theatres,  and  billiard-rooms. 

The  more  wealthy  families,  and  the  high 
noblesse,  as  they  were  called,  saw  this  de- 
gradation of  the  inferior  part  of  their  order 
without  pity,  or  rather  with  pleasure. 
These  last  had  risen  as  much  above  their 
natural  duties,  as  the  rural  nobility  had  sunk 
beneath  them.  They  had  too  well  followed 
the  course  which  Richelieu  had  contrived 
to  recommend  to  their  fathers,  and  instead 
of  acting  as  the  natural  chiefs  and  leaders  of 
the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  provinces, 
they  were  continually  engaged  in  intriguing 
for  charges  round  the  king's  person,  for 
posts  in  the  administration,  for  additional 
titles  and  decorations— for  all  and  every 
thing  which  could  make  the  successful 
courtier,  and  distinguish  him  from  the  inde- 
pendent noble.  Their  education  and  habits 
also  were  totally  unfavourable  to  grave  or 
serious  thought  and  exertion.  If  the  trum- 
pet had  sounded,  it  would  have  found  a 
ready  echo  in  their  bosoms ;  but  light  liter- 
ature at  best,  and  much  more  frequently 
silly  and  frivolous  amusements,  a  constant 
pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  a  perpetual  succes- 
sion of  intrigues,  either  of  love  or  petty 
politics,  made  their  character,  in  time  of 
peace,  approach  in  insignificance  to  that  of 
the  women  of  the  court,  whom  it  was  the 
business  of  their  lives  to  captivate  and 
amuse.*  There  were  noble  exceptions,  but 
in  general  the  order,  in  evejy  thing  but 
military  courage,  had  assumed  a  trivial  and 
effeminate  character,  from  which  patriotic 
Bacrifices,  or  masculine  wisdom,  were 
scarcely  to  be  expected. 

While  the  first  nobles  of  FraD<'e  were 
engaged  in  these  frivolous  pursuits,  their 
procureurs,  bailiffs,  stewards,  intendants,  or 
by  whatsoever  name  their  agents  and  man- 
agers were  designated,  enjoyed  the  real 
influence  which  their  constituents  rejected 
as  beneath  them,  rose  into  a  degree  of  au- 
thority and  credit,  which  eclipsed  recollec- 
tion of  the  distant  and  regardless  proprietor, 
and  formed  a  rank  in  the  state  not  very  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  the  middle-men  in  Ire- 
land. These  agents  were  necessarily  of 
plebeian  birth,  and  their  profession  required 
that  they  should  be  familiar  with  the  de- 
tails of  public  business,  which  they  admin- 
istered in  the  name  of  their  seigneurs. 
Many  of  this  condition  gained  power  and 
wealth  in  the  course  of  the  Revolution, 
thus  succeeding,  like  an  able  ani  intelli- 
gent vizier,  to  the  power  which  >vas  forfeit- 
•vd  by  the  idle  ana  voluptuous  sultan.  Of 
the  hi^  noblesse  it  might  with  truth  be 

*  See,  for  a  curious  picture  of  the  life  of 
the  French  nobles  of  fifty  years  since,  the 
first  volume  cf  Madam  Genlis'  Memoirs. 
Had  there  been  any  more  solid  pursuits  in 
flocicty  than  the  gay  trifles  she  so  pleasant- 
ly describes,  they  could  not  have  escaped 
■o  intelligeut  an  observer. 


said,  that  they  still  formed  the  grace  of  the 
court  of  France,  though  they  had  ceased  to 
be  its  defence.  They  were  accomplished, 
brave,  full  of  honour,"and  in  many  instancei 
endowed  with  talent.  But  the  communi- 
cation was  broken  oft'  betwixt  them  and  the 
subordinate  orders,  over  wliom,  in  just  de- 
gree, they  ought  to  have  possessed  a  natu- 
ral influence.  The  chain  of  gradual  and 
insensible  connexion  was  rusted  by  time, 
in  almost  all  its  dependencies;  forcibly 
distorted,  and  contemptuously  wrenched 
assunder,  in  many.  The  noble  had  neg- 
lected and  flung  from  him  the  most  pre- 
cious jewel  in  his  coronet— the  love  and 
respect  of  the  country-gentleman,  the  far- 
mer, and  the  peasant,  an  advantage  so  nat- 
ural to  his  condition  in  a  well -constituted 
society,  and  founded  upon  principles  so 
estimable,  that  he  who  contemns  or  des- 
troys it,  is  guilty  of  little  less  than  high 
treason,  both  to  his  own  rank,  and  to  the 
community  in  general.  Such  a  change, 
however,  had  taken  place  in  France,  so 
that  the  noblesse  might  be  compared  to  a 
court-sword,  the  hilt  carved,  ornamentecL 
and  gilded,  such  as  might  grace  a  day  of 
parade,  but  the  blade  gone,  or  composed 
of  the  most  worthless  materials. 

It  only  remains  to  be  mentioned,  thai: 
there  subsisted,  besides  all  the  distinction* 
we  have  noticed,  an  essential  difference  in 
political  opinions  among  the  noblesse  them- 
selves, considered  as  a  body.  There  were 
many  of  the  order,  who,  looking  to  the  es- 
igencies  of  the  kingdom,  were  patriotically 
disposed  to  sacrifice  their  own  exclusive 
privileges,  in  order  to  afford  a  chance  of  its 
regeneration.  These  of  course  were  dispos- 
ed to  favour  an  alteration  or  reform  in  the 
original  constitution  of  France  ;  but  besides 
these  enlightened  individuals,  the  nobility 
had  the  misfortune  to  include  many  disap- 
pointed and  desperate  men,  ungratified  by 
any  of  the  advantages  which  their  rank 
made  them  capable  cf  receiving,  and  whoso 
advantages  of  birth  and  education  only  ren- 
dered them  more  deeply  dangerous,  or 
more  daringly  profligate.  A  plebeian,  dis- 
honoured by  his  vices,  or  depressed  by  the 
poverty  which  is  their  consequence,  sinks 
easily  into  the  insignificance  from  which 
wealth  or  character  alone  raised  him;  but 
the  noble  often  retains  the  means,  as  well 
as  the  desire  to  avenge  himself  on  society, 
for  an  expulsion  which  he  feels  not  the 
less  because  he  is  conscious  of  deserving 
it.  Such  were  the  debauched  Roman 
youth,  among  whom  were  found  Catiline, 
and  associates  equal  in  talents  and  in  de- 
pravity to  their  leader;  and  such  was  the 
celebrated  Mirabeau,  wlio,  almost  expelled 
from  his  own  class,  as  an  irreclaimable 
profligate,  entered  the  arena  of  the  Revolu- 
tion as  a  first-rate  reformer,  and  a  popular 
advocate  of  the  lower  orders. 

The  state  of  the  Church,  that  second 
pillar  of  the  throne,  was  scarce  more  solid 
than  that  of  the  Nobility.  Generally  speak- 
ing, it  might  be  said,  that,  for  a  long  time. 
the  higher  orders  of  the  clergy  had  ceased 
to  take  a  vital  concern  in  their  professiot, 
or  to  exercise  its  functions  in  a  mannei 


Chap.  I.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


27 


which  interested  the  reelings^nd  affections 
of  men. 

The  Catholic  Church  had  grown  old,  and 
unfortunately  did  not  possess  the  means  of 
renovating  her  doctrines,  or  improving  her 
constitution,  so  as  to  keep  pace  with  the 
enlargement  of  the  human  understanding. 
The  lofty  claims  to  infallibility  which  she 
had  set  up  and  maintained  during  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  claims  which  she  could  neither 
renounce  nor  modify,  now  threatened  in 
more  enlightened  times,  like  battlements 
too  heavy  for  the  foundation,  to  be  the 
means  of  ruining  the  edifice  they  were  de- 
signed to  defend.  Vestigia  nulla  retror- 
tum,  continued  to  be  the  motto  of  the 
Church  of  Rome.  She  could  explain  noth- 
ing, soften  nothing,  renounce  nothing,  con- 
•istently  with  her  assertion  of  impeccabili- 
ty. The  whole  trash  which  had  been  ac- 
cumulated for  ages  of  darkness  and  igno- 
rance, whether  consisting  of  cittravagant 
pretensions,  incredible  assertions,  absurd 
doctrines  which  confounded  the  under- 
standing, or  puerile  ceremonies  which  re- 
volted the  taste,  were  alike  incapable  of 
being  explained  away  or  abandoned.  It 
would  certainly  have  been  (humanly  speak- 
ing) advantageous,  alike  for  the  Church  of 
Rome,  and  for  Christianity  in  general,  that 
the  former  had  possessed  the  means  of  re- 
linquishing her  extravagant  claims,  modify- 
ing her  more  obnoxious  doctrines,  and  re- 
trenching her  superstitious  ceremonial,  as 
increasing  knowledge  showed  the  injustice 
of  the  one,  and  the  absurdity  of  the  other. 
But  this  power  she  dared  not  assume;  and 
hence,  perhaps,  the  great  schism  which  di- 
vides the  Christian  world,  which  might 
otherwise  never  have  existed,  or  at  least 
not  in  its  present  extended  and  embittered 
•tate  But,  in  all  events,  the  Church  of 
Rome,  retaining  the  spiritual  empire  over 
BO  large  and  fair  a  portion  of  the  Christian 
world,  would  not  have  been  reduced  to  the 
alternative  of  either  defending  propositions, 
which,  in  the  eyes  of  all  enlightened  men, 
are  altogether  untenable,  or  of  beholding 
the  most  essential  and  vital  doctrines  of 
Christianity  confounded  with  them,  and 
the  whole  system  exposed  to  the  scorn  of 
the  infidel.  The  more  enlightened  and 
fietter  informed  part  of  the  French  nation 
had  fallen  very  generally  into  the  latter  ex- 
treme. 

Infidelity,  in  attacking  the  absurd  claims 
and  extravagant  doctrines  of  the  Church  of 
Rome,  had  artfully  availed  herself  of  those 
abuses,  as  if  they  had  been  really  a  part  of 
Che  Christian  religion  ;  and  they  whose 
credulity  could  not  digest  the  grossest  arti- 
cles of  the  papist  creed,  thought  themselves 
entitled  to  conclude,  in  general,  against 
religion  itself,  from  the  abuses  engrafted 
upon  it  by  ignorance  and  priestcraft.  The 
same  circumstances  which  favoured  the  as- 
sault, tended  to  weaken  the  defence.  Em- 
barrassed by  the  necessity  of  defending  the 
mass  of  human  inventions  with  which  their 
Church  had  obscured  and  deformed  Chris- 
tianity, tne  Catholic  clergy  were  not  the 
best  .advocates  even  in  the  best  of  causes  ; 
and  though  there  .were  many  briUiaot  ex- 


ceptions, yet  it  must  be  owned  that  a  great 
part  of  the  higher  orders  of  the  priesthood 
gave  themselves  little  trouble  about  main- 
taining the  doctrines,  or  extending  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Church,  considering  it  only 
in  the  light  of  an  asylum,  where,  under 
the  condition  of  certain  renunciations,  they 
enjoyed,  in  indolent  tranquillity,  a  stale  of 
ease  and  luxury.  Those  who  thought  on 
the  subject  more  deeply,  were  contented 
quietly  to  repose  the  safety  of  the  Church 
upon  the  restrictions  on  the  press,  which 
prevented  the  possibility  of  free  discussion. 
The  usual  effect  followed;  and  many  who, 
if  manly  and  open  debate  upon  theological 
subjects  had  been  allowed,  would  doubtless 
have  been  enabled  to  winnow  the  wheat 
from  the  chaff,  were,  in  the  state  of  dark- 
ness to  which  they  were  reduced,  led  to 
reject  Christianity  itself,  along  with  the 
corruptions  of  the  Romish  Church,  and  to 
become  absolute  infidels  instead  of  reform- 
ed Christians. 

The  long  and  violent  dispute  also  betwixt 
the  Jesuits  and  the  Jansenists,  had  for  many 
years  tended  to  lessen  the  general  consid- 
eration for  the  Church  at  large,  and  espe- 
cially for  the  higher  orders  of  the  clergy. 
In  that  quarrel,  much  had  taken  place  that 
was  disgraceful.  The  mask  of  religion  has 
been  often  used  to  cover  more  savage  and 
extensive  persecutions^  but  at  no  time  did 
the  spirit  of  intrigue,  of  personal  malice 
of  slander  and  circumvention,  appear  more 
disgustingly  from  under  the  sacred  disguise 
and  in  the  eyes  of  the  thoughtless  and  the 
vulgar,  the  general  cause  of  religion  suffer 
ed  in  proportion. 

The  number  of  the  clergy,  who  were 
thus  indifferent  to  doctrine  or  duty,  was 
greatly  increased,  since  the  promotion  to 
the  great  benefices  had  ceased  to  be  dis- 
tributed with  regard  to  the  morals,  piety, 
talents,  and  erudition  of  the  candidates, 
but  was  bestowed  among  the  younger 
branches  of  the  noblesse,  apon  men  who 
were  at  little  pains  to  reconcile  the  loose- 
ness of  their  former  habits  arid  opinions 
with  the  sanctity  of  their  new  profession, 
and  who,  embracing  the  Church  solely  as  a 
means  of  maintenance,  were  little  calcu- 
lated by  their  lives  or  learning  to  extend 
its  consideration.  Among  other  vile  inno- 
vations of  the  celebrated  regent  Duke  of 
Orleans,  he  set  the  most  barefaced  example 
of  such  dishonourable  preferment,  and  had 
increased  in  proportion  the  contempt  od- 
tertained  for  the  hierarchy,  even  in  its 
highest  dignities,  since  how  was  it  possible 
to  respect  the  purple  itself,  after  it  had 
covered  the  shoulaeia  of  the  infamous 
Dubois  1 

It  might  have  been  expected,  and  it  was 
doubtless  in  a  great  measure  the  case,  that 
the  respect  paid  to  the  characters  and  efB- 
cient  utility  of  the  curates,  upon  whom, 
generally  speaking,  the  charge  of  souls 
actually  devolved,  might  have  made  up  for 
the  want  of  consideration  withhoM  from  the 
higher  orders  of  the  Church.  Tkere  can 
be  no  doubt  that  this  respectable  botly  of 
churchmen  possessed  great  and  deserved 
iniluonce  over  their  parif^hi^oers ;  but  thea 


28 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap  L 


tliey    weie    themselves  languishing   under 
poverty  :ind  neglect,  and,  as  human  beings, 
cannot  be  supposed  to  have  viewed  v/ith 
indifrersnce  their  superiors  enjoying  wealth 
and  ease,  while  in  some  cases  they  dishon- 
oured the   robe  they  wore,  and  in  others 
disowned  the  doctrines  they  were  appoint- 
ed to  teach.     Alive  to  feelings  so  natural, 
and  mingling  with  the  middling  classes,  of" 
which  they  formed  a  most  respectable  por- 
tion, they  must  necessarily   have  become 
imbued  with  their  principles  and  opinions, 
and  a  very  obvious  train  of  reasoning  would 
extend  the  consequences  to  their  own  con- 
dition.   If  the  state  was  encumbered  rather 
than  benefited  by   the   privileges    of   the 
higher  order,  was  not  the  Church  in  the 
same  condition  ?     And  if  secular  rank  was 
to  be  thrown  open  as  a  general  object  of 
ambition  to  the  able  and  the  worthy,  ought 
not  the  dignities  of  the  Church  to  be  ren- 
dered more  accessible  to  those,  who,  in 
humility  and  truth,  discharged  the  toilsome 
duties  of  its  inferior  offices,  and  who  might 
therefore  claim,  in  due  degree  of  succes- 
sion, to  attain  higher  preferment  ?     There 
can  be  no   injustice  in   ascribing  to   this 
body  sentiments,  which  might  have  been 
no  less  just  regarding  the  Church  than  ad- 
vantageous  to   themselves ;    and,   accord- 
ingly, it  was  not  long  before  this  body  of 
churchmen  showed  distinctly,  that  their  po- 
litical  views  were  the  same  with  those  of 
the  Third  Estate,  to  which  they  solemnly 
united  themselves,  strengthening  thereby 
greatly  the  first  revolutionary  movements. 
But  their  conduct,  when  they  beheld  the 
whole   system  of  their  religion  aimed  at, 
should  acquit  the  French  clerg}',  of  the 
charge  of  self-interest,  since  no  body,  con- 
sidered as  such,  ever  showed  itself  more 
willing  to  encofUnter  persecution,  and  sub- 
mit to  privation,  for  conscience'  sake. 
While   the   Noblesse   and  the   Church, 
-  considered  as  branches  of  the  state,  were 
thus  divided  amongst  themselves,  and  fal- 
len into  discredit  with  the  nation  at  large  ; 
while  they  were  envied  for  their  ancient 
immunities,  without  being  any  longer  fear- 
ed for  their  ppwer ;   while  they  were  ridi- 
culed at  once  and  hated  for  the  assumption 
of  a  superiority  which  their  personal  quali- 
ties did  not  always  vindicate,  the  lowest 
■•     order,  the  Commons,  or,  as  they  were  at 
}     that  time  termed,  the  Third  Estate,  had 
!     gradually  acquired  an  extent  and   impor- 
,    tance  unknovvn  to  the  feudal  ages,  in  which 
originated  the  ancient  division  of  the  es- 
tates of  the  kingdom.    The  Third  Estate 
no  longer,  as  in  the  days  of  Henery  IV. , 
consisted  merely  of  the  burghers  and  petty 
vaders  in  the  small  towns  of  a  feudal  king- 
dom, bred  up  almost  as  the  vassals  of  the 
nobles  and  clergy,  by  whose  expenditure 
they  acquired  their  living.     Commerce  and 
colonies     had    introduced     wealth,    from 
sources  to  which  the  nobles  and  the  church- 
men had  no  access.     Not  only  a  very  great 
proportion  of  the  disposable  capital  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  Third  Estate,  who  thus 
formed  the  bulk  of  the  moneyed  interest  of 
France,  but  a  large  share  of  the  landed 
proper^  was  also  in  their  possession. 


There  was,  moreover,  the  influenea 
which  many  plebeians  possessed,  as  credit- 
ors, over  those  needy  nobles  whom  they 
had  supplied  with  money,  while  another 
portion  of  the  same  class  rose  into  wealth 
and  consideration,  at  the  expense  of  the 
more  opulent  patricians  who  were  ruining 
themselves,  Paris  had  increased  to  a  tre- 
mendous extent,  and  her  citizens  had  risen 
to  a  corresponding  degree  of  consideration: 
and  while  they  profited  by  the  luxury  and 
dissipation,  both  of  the  court  and  courtiers, 
had  become  rich  in  proportion  as  the  gov- 
ernment and  privileged  classes  grew  poor. 
Those  citizens  who  were  thus  enriched, 
endeavoured,  by  bestowing  on  their  fami- 
lies all  the  advantages  of  good  education, 
to  counterbalance  their  inferiority  of  birth, 
and  to  qualify  their  children  to  support 
their  part  in  the  scenes,  to  which  their  al- 
tered fortunes,  and  the  prospects  of  the 
country,  appeared  to  call  tliem.  In  short, 
it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  the  middling 
classes  acquired  the  advantages  of  wealth, 
consequence,  and  effective  power,  in  a  pro- 
portion more  than  equal  to  that  in  which 
the  nobility  had  lost  these  attributes- 
Thus,  the  Third  Estate  seemed  to  increase 
in  extent,  number,  and  strength,  like  a 
waxing  inundation,  threatening  with  every 
increasing  wave  to  overwhelm  the  ancient 
and  decayed  barriers  of  exclusions  and  im- 
munities, behind  which  the  privileged  ranks 
still  fortified  themselves. 

It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  man,  that  the 
bold,  the  talented,  the  ambitious,  of  a  rank 
which  felt  its  own  power  and  consequence, 
should  be  long  contented  to  remain  acqui- 
escent in  political  regulations,  which  do- 
pressed  them  in  the  state  of  society  be- 
neath men  to  whom  they  felt  themselves 
equal  in  all  respects,  excepting  the  facti- 
tious circumstances  of  birth,  or  of  church 
orders.  It  was  no  less  impossible  that  they 
should  long  continue  satisfied  with  the  feu- 
dal dogma,  which  exempted  the  noblesse 
from  taxes,  because  they  served  the  nation 
with  their  sword,  and  the  clergy,  because 
they  propitiated  Heaven  in  its  favour  with 
their  prayers.  The  maxirn,  however  true 
in  the  feudal  ages  when  it  originated,  had 
become  sai  extravagant  legal  fiction  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  when  all  the  world 
knew  that  both  the  noble  soldier  and  the 
priest  were  paid  for  the  services  they  no 
longer  rendered  to  the  state,  while  the  ro- 
turier  had  both  valour  and  learning  to  fight 
his  own  battles  and  perform  his  own  devo- 
tions j  and  when,  in  fact,  it  was  their  arrna 
which  combated,  and  their  learning  which 
enlightened  the  state,  rather  than  those  of 
the  privileged  orders. 

Thus,  a  body,  opulent  and  important,  and 
carrying  along  with  their  claims  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  whole  people,  were  arranged 
in  formidable  array  against  the  privilegei 
of  the  nobles  and  clergy,  and  bound  to  fur- 
ther the  approaching  changes  by  the  strong 
est  of  human  ties,  emulation  and  self- 
interest. 

The  point  was  stated  with  unusual  frank- 
ness by  Emery,  a  distinguished  member 
of  the  National  Assembly,,  and  a  man  of 


Ckap.n.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


29 


nonour  and  talent.  In  the  course  of  a  con- 
fidential communication  with  the  celebrat- 
ed Marquis  de  Bouille,  the  latter  had  avow- 
ed his  principles  of  royalty,  and  his  detest- 
ation of  the  new  constitution,  to  which  he 
said  he  only  rendered  obedience,  because 
the  King  had  sworn  to  maintain  it.  "  You 
are  right,  being  yourself  a  nobleman."  re- 

flied  Emery  with  equal  candour  ;  '•  and  had 
been  born  noble,  such  would  have  been 
my  principles;  but  I,  a  plebeian  Avocat, 
will  adhere  to  that  constitution  which  has 
called  me,  and  those  of  my  rank,  out  of  the 
state  of  incapacity  and  degradation  in  which 
the  Revolution  found  us." 

Considering  the  situation,  therefore,  of 
the  three  separate  bodies,  which,  before  the 
revolutionary  impulse  commenced,  were 
the  constituent  parts  of  the  kingdom  of 


Frauice,  it  was  evident,  that  in  case  of » 
collision,  the  Nobles  and  Clergy  might  es- 
teem themselves  fortunate,  if,  divided  as 
they  were  among  themselves,  they  could 
maintain  an  effectual  defence  of  the  whole, 
or  a  portion  of  their  privileges,  while  the 
Third  Estate,  confident  in  their  numbers 
and  in  their  unanimity,  were  ready  to  as- 
sail and  carry  by  storm  the  whole  system, 
over  the  least  breach  which  might  be  ef- 
fected in  the  ancient  constitution.  Lally 
Tolendal  gave  a  comprehensive  view  of 
the  state  of  parties  in  these  words  : — "  The 
Commons  desired  to  conquer  the  Nobles  to 
preserve  what  they  already  possessed.  The 
Clergy  stood  inactive,  resolved  to  join  the 
victorious  party.  If  there  was  a  man  in 
France  who  wished  for  concoru  and  peace, 
it  was  the  King. 


CEAF.  II. 

State  of  France  continued. — State  of  Public  Opinion. — Men  of  Letters  encouraged  by 
the  Great. — Disadvantages  attending  this  Patronage. — Licentious  tendency  of  th* 
French  Literature — Their  Irreligious  and  Infidel  Opinions. — Free  Opinions  on  Poli- 
tics permitted  to  be  expressed  in  an  abstract  and  speculative  but  not  in  a  practical 
Form. — Disadvantages  arising  from  the  suppression  of  Free  Discussion. — Angloma- 
nia— Share  of  France  in  the  American  War. — Disposition  of  the  Troops  icho  r»- 
tumed  from  America. 


We  have  viewed  France  as  it  stood  in  its 
grand  political  divisions  previous  to  the 
Revolution,  and  we  have  seen  that  there 
existed  strong  motives  for  change,  and  that  a 
great  force  was  prepared  to  level  institutions 
which  were  crumbling  to  pieces  of  them- 
selves. It  is  now  necessary  to  review  the 
state  of  the  popular  mind,  and  consider  up- 
on what  principles,  and  to  what  extent  the 
approaching  changes  were  likely  to  ope- 
rate, and  at  what  point  they  might  be  ex- 
pected to  stop.  Here,  as  with  respect  to 
the  ranKs  of  society,  a  tacit  but  almost  to- 
tal change  had  been  operated  in  the  feel- 
ings and  sentiments  of  the  public,  princi- 
pally occaisioned,  doubtless,  by  the  great 
ascendency  acquired  by  literature — that 
tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  which, 
amidst  the  richest  and  most  wholesome 
fruits,  bears  others,  fair  in  show,  and  sweet 
to  the  taste,  but  having  the  properties  of 
the  most  deadly  poison. 

The  French,  tne  most  ingenious  people 
in  Europe,  and  the  most  susceptible  of 
those  pleasures  which  arise  from  conversa- 
tion and  literary  discussion,  had  early  call- 
ed in  the  assistance  of  men  of  genius  to 
enhance  their  relish  for  society.  The  no- 
bles, without  renouncing  their  aristocratic 
superiority, — which,  on  the  contrary,  was 
rendered  more  striking  by  the  contrast, — 

Cermitted  literary  talents  to  be  a  passport 
ito  their  saloons.  The  wealthy  financier, 
and  opulent  merchant,  emulated  the  nobil- 
ity in  this  as  in  other  articles  of  taste  and 
splendour ;  and  their  coteries,  as  well  as 
those  of  the  aristocracy,  were  open  to  men 
of  letters,  who  were  in  many  cases  content- 
ed to  enjoy  luxury  at  the  expense  of  inde- 
pendence. Assuredly  this  species  of  pa- 
tronage, while  it  often  flowed  from  the  van- 


ity or  egotism  of  the  patrons,  was  not  much 
calculated  to  enhance  the  character  of  those 
who  were  protected.  Professors  of  litera- 
ture, thus  mingling  in  the  society  of  the 
noble  and  the  wealthy  upon  suflFerance,  held 
a  rank  scarce  more  high  than  that  of  musi- 
cians or  actors,  from  amongst  whom  indi- 
viduals have  often,  by  their  talents  ano 
character,  become  members  of  the  best  so- 
ciety, while  the  castes  to  which  such  indi- 
viduals belong,  remain  in  general  exposed 
to  the  most  humiliating  contempt.  The 
lady  of  quality,  who  smiled  on  the  man  of 
letters,  and  the  man  of  rank  who  admitted 
him  to  his  intimacy,  still  retained  the 
consciousness  that  he  was  not  like  them- 
selves, formed  out  of  the  "  porcelain  ciay  of 
the  earth,"  and  even  while  receiving  their 
bounties,  or  participating  in  their  pleasures, 
the  favourite  savant  must  often  have  been 
disturbed  by  the  reflection,  that  he  was  on- 
ly considered  as  a  creature  of  sufierance, 
whom  the  caprice  of  fashion,  or  a  sudden 
reaction  of  the  ancient  etiquette,  might  fling 
out  of  the  society  where  he  was  at  present 
tolerated.  Under  this  disheartening,  and 
even  degrading  inferiority,  the  man  of  letters 
might  be  tempted  invidiously  to  compare 
the  luxurious  style  of  living  at  which  he 
sat  a  permitted  guest,  with  his  own  paltry 
hired  apartment,  and  scanty  and  uncertain 
chance  of  support.  And  even  those  of  a 
nobler  mood,  when  they  had  conceded  to 
their  benefactors  all  the  gratitude  they  cou'd 
justly  demand,  must  sometimes  have  regret- 
ted their  own  situation. 

'•'  Condemn'd  as  needy  supplicants  to  wait. 
While  ladies  interpose  and  slaves  debate  ' 

It  followed,  that  many  of  the  men  of  le^ 


30 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  IL 


ters  thus  protected,  became  enemies  of  the 
{)er8ons  as  well  as  the  rank  of  their  patrons  ; 
as  for  example,  no  one  in  the  course  of  the 
Pievolution  expressed  greater,  hatred  to  the 
nobility  than  Champfort,  the  favourite  and 
favoured  secretary  of  the  Prince  of  Cond^. 
Occasions,  too,  must  frequently  have  occur- 
red, in  which  the  protected  person  was  al- 
most inevitably  forced  upon  comparing  his 
own  natural  and  acquired  talents  with  those 
of  his  aristocratic  patron,  and  the  result 
could  not  be  other  than  a  dislike  of  the  in- 
stitutions which  placed  him  so  far  behind 
persons  whom,  but  for  those  prescribed 
limits,  he  must  have  passed  in  the  career  of 
honour  and  distinction. 

Hence  arose  that  frequent  and  close  in- 
quiry into  the  origin  of  ranks,  that  general 
system  of  impugning  the  existing  regula- 
tions, and  appealing  to  the  original  states 
of  society  in  vindication  of  the  original 
equality  of  mankmd — hence  those  ingen- 
ous  arguments,  and  eloquent  tirades  in  fa- 
vour of  primitive  and  even  savage  independ- 
ence, which  the  patricians  of  the  day  read 
and  applauded  with  such  a  smile  of  mixed 
applause  and  pity,  as  they  would  have  given 
to  the  reveries  of  a  crazed  poet,  while  the 
inferior  ranks,  participating  the  feelings  un- 
der which  they  were  written,  caught  the 
ardour  of  the  eloquent  authors,  and  rose 
from  the  perusal  with  minds  prepared  to  act, 
whenever  action  should  be  necessary  to 
realize  a  vision  so  flattering. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  those 
belonging  to  the  privileged  classes  at  least, 
would  have  caught  the  alarm,  from  hearing 
doctrines  so  fatal  to  their  own  interests 
avowed  so  boldly,  and  maintained  with  so 
much  talent.  It  might  have  been  thought 
that  they  would  have  started  when  Raynal 
proclaimed  to  the  nations  of  the  earth  that 
they  could  only  be  free  and  happy  when 
they  had  overthrown  every  throne  and  eve- 
ry altar ;  but  no  such  alarm  was  taken.  Men 
of  rank  considered  liberal  principles  as  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  and  embraced  them  as 
the  readiest  mode  of  showing  that  they 
were  above  vulgar  prejudices.  In  short, 
they  adopted  political  opinions  as  they  put 
on  round  hats  and  jockey-coats,  merely  be- 
cause they  were  current  in  good  society. 
They  assumed  the  tone  of  philosophers  as 
they  would  have  done  that  of  Arcadian 
shepherds  at  a  masquerade,  but  without  any 
more  thoughts  of  sacrificing  their  own  rank 
and  immunities  in  the  one  case,  than  of 
actually  driving  their  flocks  a-field  in  the 
other.  Count  S6gur  gives  a  most  interest- 
ing account  of  the  opinions  of  the  young 
French  nobles,  in  which  he  himself  partook 
at  this  eventful  period. 

"  Impeded  in  this  light  career  by  the 
antiquated  pride  of  the  old  court,  the  irk- 
some etiquette  of  the  old  order  of  things, 
the  severity  of  the  old  clergy,  the  aversion 
of  our  parents  to  our  new  fashions  and  our 
costumes,  which  were  favourable  to  the 
principles  of  equality,  we  felt  disposed  to 
adopt  with  enthusiasm  the  philosophical 
doctrines  professed  by  literary  men,  re- 
markable for  their  boldness  and  their  wit. 
Voitaira  seduced  our  imaginatiou ;  Rous- 


seau touched  our  hearts  ;  we  felt  a  Fecrel 
pleasure  in  seeing  that  their  attacks  were 
directed  against  an  old  fabric,  which  pre* 
sented  to  us  a  Gothic  and  ridiculous  appear 
ance. 

"  We  were  thus  pleased  at  this  petty 
war,  although  it  was  undermining  our  own 
ranks  and  privileges,  and  the  remains  of 
our  ancient  power  ;  but  we  felt  not  these 
attacks  personally  ;  we  merely  witnessed 
them.  It  was  as  yet  but  a  war  of  word* 
and  paper,  which  did  not  appear  to  us  to 
threaten  the  superiority  of  existence  we 
enjoyed,  consolidated  as  we  thought  it,  by 
a  possession  of  many  centuries. 

*  if  #  *  • 

"  We  were  pleased  with  the  courage  of 
liberty,  whatever  language  it  assumed,  and 
with  the  convenience  of  equality.  There 
is  a  satisfaction  in  descending  from  a  high 
rank,  as  long  as  the  resumption  of  it  is 
thought  to  be  free  and  unobstructed ;  and 
regardless,  therefore,  of  consequences,  we 
enjoyed  our  patrician  advantages,  together 
with  the  sweets  of  a  plebeian  philosophy." 

We  anxiously  desire  not  to  be  mistaken.  It 
is  not  the  purport  of  these  remarks  to  blame 
the  French  aristocracy  for  extending  their 
patronage  to  learning  and  to  genius.  The 
purpose  was  honourable  to  themselves,  and 
fraught  with  high  advantages  to  the  progress 
of  society.  The  favour  of  the  Great  sup- 
plied the  want  of  public  encouragement, 
and  fostered  talent  which  otherwise  might 
never  have  produced  its  important  and  in- 
appreciable fruits.  But  it  had  been  better 
for  France,  her  nobility,  and  her  literature^ 
had  the  patronage  been  extended  in  some 
maaner  which  did  not  intimately  associate 
the  two  clasoes  of  men.  The  want  of  inde- 
pendence of  circumstances  is  a  severe  if 
not  an  absolute  check  to  independence  of 
spirit ;  and  thus  it  oflen  happened,  that,  to 
gratify  the  passions  of  their  protectors,  or 
to  advance  their  interest,  the  men  of  letters. 
were  involved  in  the  worst  and  most  scan- 
dalous labyrinths  o(traeaa$erie,  slander,  and' 
malignity  ;  that  they  were  divided  into  des- 
perate factions  against  each  other,  and  re- 
duced to  practice  all  those  arts  of  dissimu- 
lation, flattery,  and  intrigue,  which  are  the 
greatest  shame  of  the  literary  profession. 

As  the  eighteenth  century  advanced,  th© 
men  of  literature  rose  in  importance,  and 
aware  of  their  own  increasing  power  in  s 
society  which  was  dependent  on  them  for  in- 
tellectual gratification,  they  supported  each. 
other  in  their  claims  to  what  began  to  be 
considered  the  dignity  of  a  man  of  letters. 
This  was  soon  carried  into  extremes,  and 
assumed,  even  in  the  halls  of  their  protect- 
ors, a  fanatical  violence  of  opinion,  and  a 
dogmatical  mode  of  expression,  which  made 
the  veteran  Fontenelle  declare  himself  ter- 
rified for  the  frightful  degree  of  certainty 
that  folks  met  with  every  where  in  society. 
The  truth  is,  that  men  of  letters,  being  usu 
ally  men  of  mere  theory,  have  no  opportu- 
nity of  measuring  the  opinions  which  they 
have  adopted  upon  hypothetical  reasoning, 
by  the  standard  of  practical  experiment. 
They  feel  their  mental  superiority  to  those 
whom  they  live  with  and  become  habitual 


Chap,  n.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


31 


belieyers  in,  and  asserters  of,  their  own  in- 
fallibility. If  moderation,  command  of  pas- 
sions and  of  temper,  be  part  of  philosophy, 
we  seldom  find  less  philosophy  actually  dis- 
played, than  by  a  philosopher  in  defence  of 
a.  favourite  theory.  Nor  have  we  found 
that  churchmen  are  so  desirous  of  forming 
proselytes,  or  soldiers  of  extending  con- 
quests, as  philosophers  in  making  converts 
to  their  own  opinions. 

In  France  they  had  discovered  the  com- 
mand which  they  had  acquired  over  the  pub- 
I  lie  mind,  and  united  as  they  were,  (and  more 
'  especially,  the  Encyclopedists  )  they  aug- 
mented and  secured  that  impression,  by 
never  permitting  the  doctrines  which  they 
wished  to  propagate  to  die  away  upon  the 
public  ear.  For  this  purpose,  they  took 
care  their  doctrines  should  be  echoed,  like 
-  thunder  amongst  hills,  from  a  hundred  dif- 
ferent points,  presented  in  a  hundred  new 
lights,  illustrated  by  a  hundred  various 
methods,  until  the  public  could  no  lunger 
help  receiving  that  as  undeniable  which 
they  heard  from  so  many  different  quarters. 
They  could  also  direct  every  weapon  of 
satirical  hostility  against  those  who  ventur- 
ed to  combat  their  doctrines,  and  as  their 
wrath  was  neither  easily  endured  nor  paci- 
fied, they  drove  from  the  field  most  of  those 
authors,  who,  in  opposition  to  their  opin- 
ions, might  have  exerted  themselves  as 
champions  of  the  church  and  monarchy. 

We  have  already  hinted  at  the  disadvan- 
tages under  which  literature  labours,  when 
it  is  under  the  protection  of  private  individ- 
uals of  opulence,  rather  than  of  the  public. 
But  in  yet  another  important  respect,  the 
air  of  salons,  mell'es,  and  boudoirs,  is  fatal, 
in  many  cases,  to  the  masculine  spirit  of 
philosophical  self-denial  which  gives  digni- 
ty to  literary  society.  They  who  make 
part  of  the  gay  society  of  a  corrupted  me- 
tropolis, must  lend  their  countenance  to 
follies  and  vices,  if  they  do  not  themselves 
practise  them ;  hence,  perhaps,  French  lit- 
erature, more  than  any  other  in  Europe, 
has  been  liable  to  the  reproach  of  lending 
its  powerful  arm  to  undermine  whatever 
was  serious  in  morals,  or  hitherto  consider- 
ed as  fixed  in  principle.  Some  of  their 
greatest  authors,  even  Montesquieu  him- 
self, have  varied  their  deep  reasonings  on 
the  origin  of  government,  and  the  most 
profound  problems  of  philosophy,  with  li- 
centious tales  tending  to  inflame  the  pas- 
eions.  Hence,  partaking  of  the  licence  of 
its  professors,  the  degraded  literature  of 
mo(^m  times  called  in  to  its  alliance  that 
immorality,  which  not  only  Christian,  but 
even  heathen  philosophy  had  considered  as 
the  greatest  obstacle  to  a  pure,  wise,  and 
happy  state  of  existence.  The  licentious- 
ness which  walked  abroad  in  such  disgust- 
ing and  undisguised  nakedness,  was  a  part 
of  the  unhappy  bequest  left  by  the  Regent 
Duke  of  Orleans  to  the  country  which  he 
iovemed.  The  decorum  of  the  court  dur- 
ing the  times  of  Louis  XIV.  had  prevented 
stich  excesses  ;  if  there  was  enough  of  vice, 
it  was  at  least  decently  veiled.  But  the 
conduct  of  Orleans  and  his  minions  was 
■larked  with  open  infamy,  deep  enough  to 


have  called  down,  in  the  age  of  miraclea, 
an  immediate  judgment  from  Heaven  ;  and 
crimes  which  the  worst  of  Roman  empe- 
rors would  have  at  least  hidden  in  nis 
solitary  Isle  of  Caprea,  were  acted  as  pul>- 
licly  as  if  men  had  had  no  eyes,  or  God  no 
thunderbolts. 

From  thi«  filthy  Cocytus  flowed  those 
streams  of  impurity  which  disgraced  France 
during  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  and  which, 
notwithstanding  the  example  of  a  prince  who 
was  himself  a  model  of  domestic  virtue, 
continued  in  that  of  Louis  XVI.  to  infect 
society,  morals,  and,  above  all,  literature. 
We  do  not  here  allude  merely  to  those 
lighter  pieces  of  indecency  in  which  hu- 
mour and  fancy  outrun  the  bounds  of  deli- 
cacy. These  are  to  be  found  in  the  litera- 
ture of  most  nations,  and  are  generally  in 
the  hands  of  mere  libertines  and  men  of 
pleasure,  so  well  acquainted  with  the  prac- 
tice of  vice,  that  the  theory  cannot  make 
them  worse  than  they  are.  But  there  was 
a  strain  of  voluptuous  and  seducing  immor- 
ality which  pervaded  not  only  the  lighter 
and  gayer  compositions  of  the  French,  but 
tinged  the  writings  of  those  who  called  the 
world  to  admire  them  as  poets  of  the  high- 
est mood,  or  to  listen  as  to  philosophers  of 
the  most  lofty  pretensions.  Voltaire,  Rous- 
seau, Diderot,  Montesquieu, — names  which 
France  must  always  esteem  her  highest 
honour, — were  so  guilty  in  this  particular, 
that  the  young  and  virtuous  must  either  al- 
together abstain  from  works  the  which  arc 
everywhere  the  topic  of  ordinary  discussion 
and  admiration,  or  must  peruse  much  that 
is  hurtful  to  delicacy  and  dangerous  to  mor- 
als, in  the  formation  of  their  future  charac- 
ter. The  latter  alternative  was  universally 
adopted  ;  for  the  curious  will  read  as  th« 
thirsty  will  drink,  though  the  cup  and  page 
be  polluted. 

So  far  had  an  indiflference  to  delicacy  in- 
fluenced the  society  of  France,  and  so 
widely  spread  was  this  habitual  impurity  of 
language  and  ideas,  especially  among  those 
who  pretended  to  philosophy,  that  Madame 
Roland,  a  woman  admirable  for  courage  and 
talents,  and  not,  so  far  as  appears,  vicious  in 
her  private  morals,  not  only  mentions  the 
profligate  novels  of  Louvet  as  replete  with 
the  graces  of  imagination,  the  salt  of  criti- 
cism, and  the  tone  of  philosophy,  but  af- 
fords the  public,  in  her  own  person,  details 
with  which  a  courtezan  of  the  higher  claas 
should  be  unwilling  to  season  her  private 
conversation.* 

This  licence,  with  the  corruption  of  mor- 
als, of  which  it  is  both  the  sign  and  the 
cause,  leads  directly  to  feelings  the  most 
inconsistent  with  manly  and  virtuous  patri- 
otism. Voluptuousness,  and  its  consequen- 
ces, render  the  libertine  incapable  of  relish 


*  The  particulars  we  allude  to,  thong'i 
suppressed  in  the  second  edition  of  Mad- 
ame Roland's  Memoires,  are  restored  in 
the  collection  of  Memoires  respecting  the 
Revolution,  now  publishing  at  Paris.  Thia 
is  fair  play  ;  for  if  the  details  be  disgusting, 
the  light  which  they  cast  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  the  author  is  too  valuable  to  be  loeU 


32 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.n. 


for  what  is  simply  and  abstractedly  beauti- 
ful or  sublime,  whether  in  literature  or  in 
the  arts,  and  destroy  the  taste,  -while  they 
decade  and  blunt  tlie  understanding.  But, 
above  all,  such  libertinism  leads  to  the  ex- 
clusive pursuit  of  selfish  gratification,  for 
egotism  is  its  foundation  and  its  essence. 
Egotism  is  necessarily  the  very  reverse  of 
patriotism,  since  the  one  principle  is  found- 
ed exclusively  upon  the  individual's  pursuit 
of  his  own  peculiar  objects  of  pleasure  or 
advantage,  while  the  other  demands  a  sac- 
rifice, not  only  of  these  individual  pursuits, 
but  of  fortune  and  life  itself,  to  the  cause 
of  the  public  weal.  Patriotism  has  ac- 
cordingly, always  been  found  to  flourish  in 
that  state  of  society  which  is  most  favour- 
able to  the  stern  and  manly  virtues  of  self- 
denial,  temperance,  chastity,  contempt  of 
luxury,  patient  exertion,  and  elevated  con- 
templation ;  and  the  public  spirit  of  a  na- 
tion has  invariably  borne  a  just  proportion 
to  its  private  morals. 

Religion  cannot  exist  where  immorality 
generally  prevails,  any  more  than  a  light 
can  burn  where  the  air  is  corrupted ;  and 


kind,  which  were  eternally  on  their  lip«, 
they  would  have  formed  the  true  estimate 
of  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  not  from  the 
use  which  had  been  made  of  the  mere  name 
by  ambitious  priests  or  enthusiastic  fools, 
but  by  its  vital  effects  upon  mankind  at 
large.  They  would  have  seen,  that  under 
its  influence  a  thousand  brutal  and  sanguin- 
ary  superstitions  had  died  away ;  that  polyg- 
amy had  been  abolished,  and  with  polyga- 
my all  the  obstacles  which  it  offers  to  do- 
mestic happiness,  as  well  as  to  the  due  ed- 
ucation of  youth,  and  the  natural  and  grad- 
ual civilization  of  society.  They  must  then 
have  owned,  that  slavery,  which  they  re- 
garded or  aflected  to  regard  with  such  hor- 
ror, had  first  been  gradually  ameliorated, 
aqd  finally  abolished  by  the  influence  of 
the  Christian  doctrines — that  there  was  no 
one  virtue  teaching  to  elevate  laankind  or 
benefit  society,  which  was  not  enjoined  by 
the  precepts  they  endeavoured  to  misrepre- 
sent and  weaken — no  one  vice  by  which 
humanity  is  degraded  and  society  endanger- 
ed, upon  which  Christianity  hath  not  im- 
posed a    solemn  anathema.      They  might 


accordingly,   infidelity  was  so   general   in  ■  also,  in  their  capacity  of  philosophers,  have 
France,  as  to  predominate  in  almost  every  i  considered    the    peculiar  aptitude  of   the 


rank  of  society.  The  errors  of  the  Church 
of  Rome,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  con- 
nected as  they  are  with  her  ambitious  at- 
tempts towards  dominion  over  men,  in 
their  temporal  as  well  as  spiritual  capac- 
ity, had  long  become  the  argument  of  the 
philosopher,  and  the  jest  of  the  satirist ; 
but  in  exploding  these  pretensions,  and 
holding  them  up  to  ridicule,  the  philoso- 
phers of  the  age  involved  with  them  the 
general  doctrines  of  Christianity  itself ; 
nay,  some  went  so  far  as  not  only  to  deny 
inspiration,  but  to  extinguish,  by  their  soph- 
istry, the  lights  of  natural  religion,  implant- 
ed in  our  bosoms  as  a  part  of  our  birthright. 
Like  the  disorderly  rabble  at  the  time  of 
the  Reformation,  (but  with  infinitely  deep- 
er guilt,)  they  not  only  pulled  down  the 
Bymbols  of  idolatry,  which  ignorance  or 
priestcraft  had  introduced  into  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  but  sacrilegiously  defaced  and 
desecrated  the  altar  itself.  This  work  the 
philosophers,  as  they  termed  themselves, 
carried  on  with  such  an  unlimited  and  ea- 
ger zeal,  as  plainly  to  show  that  infidelity, 
33  well  as  divinity,  hath  its  fanaticism.  An 
envenomed  fury  against  religion  and  all  its 
doctrines  ;  a  promptitude  to  avail  them- 
selves of  every  circumstance  by  which 
Christianity  could  be  misrepresented  ;  an 
ingenuity  in  mixing  up  their  opinions  in 
works,  whirh  seemed  the  least  fitting  to 
involve  such  discussions  ;  above  all,  a  per- 
tinacity in  slandering,  ridiculing,  and  vili- 
fying all  who  ventured  to  oppose  their 
principles,  distinguished  the  correspond- 
ents in  this  celebrated  conspiracy  against  a 
religion,  which,  however  it  may  be  defaced 
by  .mman  inventions,  breathes  only  that 
peace  on  earth,  and  good  will  to  the  chil- 
dren of  men,  which  was  proclaimed  by 
Heaven  at  its  divine  origin. 

If  these  prejudiced  and  envenomed  op- 
ponents had  possessed  half  the  desire  of 
truth  or  half  the  benevolence  towuds  man- 


Christian  religion,  not  only  to  all  ranks  and 
conditions  of  mankind,  but  to  all  climatea 
and  to  all  stages  of  society.  Nor  ought  it 
to  have  escaped  them,  that  the  system  con- 
tains within  itself  a  key  to  those  difficul- 
ties, doubts,  and  mysteries,  by  which  the 
human  mind  is  agitated,  so  soon  as  it  is 
raised  beyond  the  mere  objects  which  in- 
terest the  senses.  Milton  has  made  the 
maze  of  metaphysics,  and  the  bewildering 
state  of  mind  which  they  engender,  a  part 
of  the  employment,  and  perhaps  of  the  pun- 
ishment, of  the  lower  regions.  Christiaai  ■ 
ty  alone  offers  a  clew  to  this  labjrrinth,  a 
solution  to  these  melancholy  and  discour- 
aging doubts  ;  and  however  its  doctrines 
may  be  hard  to  unaided  flesh  and  blood,  yet 
explaining  as  they  do  the  system  of  the 
universe,  which  without  them  is  so  incom- 
prehensible, and  through  their  practical  in- 
fluence rendering  men  in  all  ages  more 
worthy  to  act  their  part  in  the  general  plan, 
it  seems  wonderful  how  those,  whose  pro- 
fessed pursuit  was  wisdom,  should  have 
looked  on  religion  not  alone  with  that  in- 
difference, which  was  the  only  feeling 
evinced  by  the  heathen  philosophers  to- 
wards the  gross  mythology  of  their  time, 
but  with  hatred,  malice,  and  all  uncharita- 
bleness.  One  would  rather  have  expected, 
that  after  such  a  review,  men  professing  the 
real  spirit  which  searches  after  truth  and 
wisdom,  if  unhappily  they  were  still  unable 
to  persuade  themselves  that  a  religion  so 
worthy  of  the  Deity  (if  such  an  expression 
may  be  used)  had  emanated  directly  from 
revelation,  might  have  had  the  modesty  to 
lay  their  finger  on  their  lip  and  distmst 
their  own  judgment,  instead  of  disturbing 
the  faith  of  others  ;  or,  if  confirmed  in  their 
incredulity,  might  have  taken  the  leisure 
to  compute  at  least  what  was  to  be  gained 
by  rooting  up  a  tree  which  bore  such  good- 
ly fruits,  without  having  the  means  of  re- 
placing it  by  aught  which  could  prodvce 


Chap,  a.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


38 


the  tame  advantage  to  the  commonwealth. 

Unhappily  blinded  by  self-conceit,  heat- 
ed with  the  ardour  of  controversy,  gratify- 
ing their  literary  pride  by  becoming  mem- 
bers of  a  league,  in  which  kings  and  princes 
were  included,  and  procuring  followers  by 
flattering  the  vanity  of  some,  and  stimulat- 
ing the  cupidity  of  others,  the  men  of  the 
most  distinguished  parts  in  France  became 
allied  in  a  sort  of  anti-crusade  against 
Christianity,  and  indeed  against  religious 
principles  of  every  kind.  How  they  suc- 
ceeded is  too  univprsaliy  known  ;  and  when 
it  is  considered  that  these  men  of  letters, 
who  ended  by  degrading  the  morals,  and 
destroying  the  religion  of  so  many  of  the 
citizens  of  France,  had  been  first  called  in- 
to public  estimation  by  the  patronage  of  the 
higher  orders,  it  is  impossible  not  to  think 
of  the  Israelitish  champion,  who,  brought 
into  the  house  of  Dagon  to  make  sport  for 
the  festive  assembly,  ended  by  pulling  it 
down  upon  the  heads  of  the  guests — and 
upon  his  own. 

We  do  not  tax  the  whole  nation  of  France 
with  being  infirm  in  religious  faith,  and  re- 
laxed in  morals ;  still  less  do  we  aver  that 
the  Revolution,  which  broke  forth  in  that 
<n)untry,  owed  its  rise  exclusively  to  the 
licence  and  infidelity,  which  were  but  too 
current  there.  The  necessity  of  a  great 
change  in  the  principles  of  the  ancient 
French  monarchy,  had  its  source  in  the 
nsurpations  of  preceding  kings  over  the  lib- 
erties of  the  subject,  and  the  opportunity 
for  effecting  this  change  was  afforded  by  the 
weakness  and  pecuniary  distresses  of  tlie 
present  government.  These  would  have 
existed  had  the  P'rench  court,  and  her  high- 
er orders,  retained  the  simple  and  virtuous 
manners  of  Sparta,  united  with  the  strong 
and  pure  faith  of  primitive  Christians.  The 
difference  lay  in  this,  that  a  simple,  virtu- 
ous, and  religious  people  would  have  rested 
content  with  such  changes  and  alterations 
in  the  constitution  of  their  government,  as 
might  remove  the  evils  of  which  they  had 
just  and  pressing  reason  to  complain.  They 
would  have  endeavoured  to  redress  obvious 
and  practical  errors  in  the  body  politic. 
*rithout  being  led  into  extremes  either  by 
the  love  of  realizing  visionary  theories,  the 
vanity  of  enforcing  their  own  particular 
■philosophical  or  political  doctrines,  or  the 
selfish  arguments  of  demagogues,  who,  in 
the  prospect  of  bettering  their  own  situa- 
tion by  wealth,  or  obtaining  scope  for  their 
ambition,  aspired,  in  the  words  of  the  dra- 
matic poet,  to  throw  the  elements  of  socie- 
ty  into  confusion,  and  thus 

"  ■■disturb  the  peace  of  all  the  world, 

To  rule  it  when  'twas  wildest." 

It  was  to  such  men  as  these  la»t  that 
Heaven,  in  punishment  of  the  sins  of 
Prance  and  of  Europe,  and  perhaps  to  teach 
mankind  a  dreadful  lesson,  abandoned  the 
management  of  the  French  Revolution,  the 
original  movements  of  which,  so  far  as 
they  went  to  secure  to  the  people  the  res- 
toration of  their  natural  liberty,  and  the  ab- 
•Ution  of  the  usurpations  of  the  crown,  had 
Vol.  I.  B.% 


become  not  only  desirable  through  the 
change  of  times,  and  by  the  influence  of 
public  opinion,  but  peremptorily  necessary 
and  inevitable. 

The  feudal  system  of  France,  like  that 
of  the  rest  of  Europe,  had,  in  its  original 
composition,  all  the  germs  of  national  free- 
dom. The  great  peers,  in  whose  hands  the 
common  defence  was  reposed,  acknowledg- 
ed the  king's  power  as  suzerain,  obeyed  hie 
commands  as  their  military  leader,  and  at- 
tended /lis  courts  as  their  supreme  judge  ; 
but  recognised  no  despotic  authority  in  the 
crown,  and  were  prompt  to  defend  the 
slightest  encroachment  upon  their  own 
rights.  If  they  themselves  were  not  equ.al- 
ly  tender  of  the  rights  and  liberties  of  their 
own  vassals,  their  acts  of  encroachment 
flowed  not  from  the  feudal  system,  but  from 
its  imperfections.  The  tendency  and  spirit 
of  these  singular  institutions,  were  to  pre- 
serve to  eaciK  individual  his  just  and  natur- 
al rights  ;  but  a  system,  almost  purely  mili- 
tary, was  liable  to  be  frequontly  abused  by 
the  most  formidable  soldier,  and  was,  be- 
sides, otherwise  ill  fitted  to  preserve  rights 
which  were  purely  civil.  It  is  not  necessa 
ry  to  trace  the  progress  from  the  days  of 
Louis  XIII.  downwards,  by  which  ambitious 
monarchs,  seconded  by  able  and  subtle 
ministers,  contrived  to  emancipate  them- 
selves from  the  restraints  of  their  powerful 
vassals,  or  by  which  the  descendants  of 
these  high  feudatories,  who  had  been  the 
controllers  of  the  prince  so  soon  as  he  out- 
stepped the  bounds  of  legitimate  authority, 
were  now  ranked  around  the  throne  in  the 
capacity  of  mere  courtiers  or  satellites, 
who  derived  their  lustre  solely  from  the  fa- 
vour of  royalty.  Tliis  unhappy  and  short- 
sighted policy  had,  however,  accomplished 
its  end,  and  the  Crown  had  concentred 
within  its  prerogative  almost  the  entire  lib- 
erties of  the  French  nation  ;  and  now,  like 
an  overgorged  animal  of  prey,  had  reasoa- 
to  repent  its  fatal  voracity,  while  it  lay  al 
most  helpless,  exposed  to  the  assaults  c^ 
those  whom  it  had  despoiled. 

We  have  already  observed,  that  for  a  con- 
siderable time  the  Frenchman's  love  of  his 
country  had  been  transferred  to  the  crown  j 
that  his  national  delight  in  martial  glory  fix- 
ed his  attachment  upon  the  monarch  as  the 
leader  of  his  armies ;  and  that  this  feelinp 
had  supported  the  devotion  of  the  nation  to 
Louis  XIV^,  not  only  during  his  victories, 
but  even  amid  his  reverses.  But  the  suc- 
ceeding reign  had  less  to  impose  on  the  im- 
agination. The  erection  of  a  palace  ob- 
tains for  the  nation  ths  praise  of  magnifi- 
cence, and  the  celebration  of  public  and 
splendid  festivals  gives  the  people  at  least 
the  pleasure  of  a  holiday  ;  the  pensioning 
artists  and  men  of  letters,  again,  is  honour- 
able to  the  country  which  fosters  the  arts  ; 
but  the  court  of  Louis  XV.,  undiminished 
in  expense,  was  also  selfish  in  its  expendi- 
ture. The  enriching  of  needy  favourites, 
their  relations,  and  their  parasites,  had  none 
of  the  dazzling  munificence  of  the  Grand 
Monarque ;  and  while  the  taxes  becaoM 
daily  more  oppressive  on  the  subjects,  tlM 
mode  in  which  the  revenue  was  employed 


S4 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


IChap.n. 


not  onlj  became  lesi  honourable  to  the 
court,  and  less  creditable  to  the  country, 
but  lost  the  dazzle  and  show  which  gives 
the  lower  orders  pleasure  as  the  beholders 
of  a  pageant. 

The  consolation  which  the  imagination 
of  the  French  had  found  in  the  military  hon- 
our of  their  nation,  seemed  also  about  to 
fail  them.  The  bravery  of  the  troops  re- 
mained the  same,  but  the  genius  of  the 
commanders,  and  the  fortune  of  the  mon- 
arch under  whose  auspices  they  fought,  had 
in  a  great  measure  abandoned  tnem,  and  the 
destiny  of  France  seemed  to  be  on  the 
wane.  The  victory  of  Fontenoy  was  all 
that  was  to  be  placed  in  opposition  to  the 
numerous  disasters  of  the  Seven  Years' 
War,  in  which  France  was  almost  every- 
where else  defeated ;  and  it  was  little  won- 
der, that  in  a  reign  attended  with  so  many 
subjects  of  mortification,  the  enthusiastic 
devotion  of  the  people  to  the  sovereign 
should  begin  to  give  way.  The  King  had 
engrossed  so  much  power  in  his  own  per- 
son, that  he  had  become  as  it  were  person- 
ally responsible  for  every  miscarriage  and 
defeat  which  the  country  underwent.  Such 
ia  the  risk  incurred  by  absolute  monarchs, 
who  are  exposed  to  all  the  popular  obloquy 
for  mal-administration,  from  which,  in  lim- 
ited governments,  kings  are  in  a  great  meas- 
ure screened  by  the  intervention  of  the 
other  powers  of  the  constitution,  or  by  the 
responsibility  of  ministers  for  the  measures 
which  they  advise  ;  while  he  that  has  as- 
cended to  the  actual  peak  and  extreme 
summit  of  power,  has  no  barrier  left  to  se- 
cure him  from  the  tempest. 

Another  and  most  powerful  cause  fanned 
the  rising  discontent,  with  which  the  French 
of  the  eighteenth  century  began  to  regard 
the  government  under  which  they  lived. 
Like  men  awakened  from  a  flattering  dream, 
they  compared  their  own  condition  with 
that  of  the  subjects  .of  free  states,  and  per- 
ceived that  they  had  either  never  enjoyed, 
or  had  been  gradually  robbed  of,  the  chief 
part  of  the  most  valuable  privileges  and  im- 
munities to  which  man  may  claim  a  natural 
right.  They  had  no  national  representation 
of  any  kind,  and  but  for  the  slender  barrier 
offered  by  the  courts  of  justice,  or  parlia- 
ments, as  they  were  called,  were  subject 
to  unlimited  exactions  on  the  sole  author- 
ity of  the  sovereign.  The  property  of  the 
nation  was  therefore  at  the  disposal  of  the 
crown,  which  might  increase  txxes  to  any 
amount,  and  cause  them  to  be  levied  by 
force,  if  force  was  necessary.  The  person- 
al freedom  of  the  citizen  wa.s  equally  ex- 
posed to  aggressions  by  lettrei  dt  cachet. 
The  French  people,  in  sLort,  had  neither 
in  the  strict  sense  liberty  nor  property,  and 
if  they  did  not  suffer  all  the  inconveniences 
in  practice  which  so  evil  a  government  an- 
nounces, it  was  because  public  opinion,  the 
softened  temper  of  the  age,  and  the  jrood 
disposition  of  the  kings  themselves,  did  not 
permit  the  scenes  of  cruelty  and  despotism 
to  be  revivednin  the  eighteenth  century, 
which  Louis  XL  had  practised  tlirce  ages 
before. 

Theoe  abtuM,  and  otb«re  ariiing;  OMt  of 


the  disproportioned  privileges  of  the  no- 
blesse and  the  clergy,  who  were  exempted 
from  contributing  to  the  necessities  of  the 
state  ;  the  unequal  mode  of  levying  the 
taxes,  and  other  great  errors  of  the  consti- 
tution ;  above  all,  the  total  absorption  of 
every  right  and  authority  in  the  person  of 
the  sovereign, — these  were  too  gross  in 
their  nature,  and  too  destructive  in  their 
consequences,  to  have  escaped  deep  thought 
on  the  part  of  reflecting  persons,  and  hatred 
and  dislike  from  those  who  suffered  mors 
or  less  under  the  practical  evils. 

They  had  not,  in  particular,  eluded  tbm 
observation  and  censure  of  the  acute  re»- 
soners  and  deep  thinkers,  who  had  already 
become  the  guiding  spirits  of  the  age  ;  but 
the  despotism  under  which  they  lived  pre- 
vented those  speculations  from  assuming  a 
practical  and  useful  character.  In  a  fre« 
country,  the  wise  and  the  learned  are  not 
only  permitted,  but  invited,  to  examine  the 
institutions  under  which  they  live,  to  de- 
fend them  against  the  suggestions  of  rash 
innovators,  or  to  propose  such  alterations 
as  the  lapse  of  time  and  change  of  manners 
may  render  necessary.  Their  disquisitions 
are,  therefore,  usefully  and  beneficially  di- 
rected to  the  repair  of  the  existing  govern- 
ment, not  to  its  demolition,  and  if  they 
propose  alteration  in  parts,  it  is  only  for 
the  purpose  of  securing  the  rest  of  the  fab- 
ric. But  in  France,  no  opportunity  was 
permitted  of  free  discussion  on  politics,  any 
more  than  on  matters  of  religion. 

An  essay  upon  the  French  monarchy, 
showing  by  what  means  the  existing  insti- 
tutions might  have  been  brought  more  into 
union  with  the  wishes  and  wants  of  the 
people,  must  have  procured  for  its  author  a 
place  in  the  Bastille  ;  and  yet  subsequent 
events  have  shown,  that  a  system,  which 
might  have  introduced  prudently  and  grad- 
ually into  the  decayed  frame  ot  the  French 
government  the  spirit  of  liberty,  which  was 
originally  inherent  in  every  feudal  mon- 
archy, would  have  been  the  most  valuable 
present  which  political  wisdom  could  have 
rendered  to  the  country.  The  bonds  which 
pressed  so  heavily  on  the  subject  might 
thus  have  been  gradually  slackened,  and  at 
length  totally  removed,  without  the  peril-- 
ous  expedient  of  casting  them  all  loose  ah 
once.  But  the  ihilosophers,  who  had  cer- 
tainly talents  Bv'""ient  for  the  purpose, 
were  not  permitted  v^  apply  to  the  state  of 
French  government  the  original  principles, 
on  which  it  was  founded,  or  to  trace  tho' 
manner  in  which  usurpations  and  abuses  had 
taken  place,  and  propose  a  mode  by  which, 
without  varying  its  form,  those  encroach- 
ments might  be  restrained,  and  those  abuses 
corrected.  An  author  wa.s  indeed  at  liber^ 
to  speculate  at  any  length  upon  genenJ 
doctrines  of  government ;  he  might  imag- 
ine to  himself  an  Utopia  or  Atalantrs,  and 
argue  upon  abstract  ideas  of  the  rights  in 
which  government  originates ;  but  on  no 
account  was  he  permitted  to  render  any  of 
his  lucubrations  practically  useful,  by  adapt- 
ing them  to  the  municipal  regulations  of 
France.  The  political  sage  was  p>laced 
with  regaled  to  his  country,  uv  the  eo(i^itii% 


Chap.  II.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE, 


36 


«f  a  physician  prescribing  for  the  favourite 
Sultana  of  some  jealous  despot,  whom  he 
ia  required  to  cure  without  seeing  his  pa- 
tient, and  without  obtaining  any  accurate 
knowledge  of  her  malady,  its  symptoms, 
and  ita  progress.  In  this  manner  the  theo- 
ry of  goTernment  was  kept  studiously  sep- 
arated from  the  practice.  The  political 
philosopher  might,  if  he  pleased,  speculate 
upon  the  former,  but  he  was  prohibited, 
under  severe  personal  penalties,  to  illus- 
trate the  subject  by  any  allusion  to  the  lat- 
ter. Thus,  the  eloquent  and  profound  work 
of  Montesquieu  professed,  indeed,  to  ex- 
plain the  general  rights  of  the  people,  and 
the  principles  upon  which  government  it- 
self rested,  but  his  pages  show  no  mode  by 
■which  these  could  be  resorted  to  for  the 
reformation  of  the  constitution  of  his  coun- 
try. He  laid  before  the  patient  a  medical 
treatise  on  disease  in  general,  instead  of  a 
special  prescription,  applying  to  his  pecul- 
iar habits  and  distemper. 

In  consequence  of  these  unhappy  re- 
ttrictions  upon  open  and  manly  political 
discussion,  the  French  government,  in  its 
actual  state,  was  never  represented  as  ca- 
pable of  either  improvement  or  regenera- 
tion ;  and  while  general  and  abstract  doc- 
trines of  original  freedom  where  every- 
where the  subject  of  eulogy,  it  was  never 
considered  for  a  moment  in  what  manner 
these  new  and  more  liberal  principles  could 
be  applied  to  the  improvement  of  the  es- 
iating  system.  The  natural  conclusion 
must  have  been,  that  the  monarchical  gov- 
ernment in  France  was  either  perfection  in 
itself,  and  consequently  stood  in  need  of  no 
reformation,  or  that  it  was  so  utterly  incon- 
sistent with  the  liberties  of  the  people  as 
to  be  susceptible  of  none.  No  one  was 
hardy  enough  to  claim  for  it  the  former 
character,  and,  least  of  all,  those  who  pre- 
sided in  its  councils,  and  seemed  to  ac- 
knowledge the  imperfection  of  the  system, 
by  prohibiting  all  discussion  on  the  subject. 
It  seemed,  therefore,  to  follow,  as  n^unfair 
inference,  that  to  obtain  the  advantages 
which  the  new  elementary  doctrines  held 
fbrth,  and  which  were  so  desirable  and  so 
much  desired,  a  total  abolition  of  the  ex- 
isting government  to  its  very  foundation, 
was  an  indispensable  preliminary  ;  and 
there  is  little  doubt  that  this  opinion  pre- 
Tailed  so  generally  at  the  time  of  the  Rev- 
olutiiiu,  aS  ..o  prevent  any  firm  or  resolute 
stand  oeing  made  in  defence  even  of  such 
of  the  actual  institutions  of  France,  as  might 
have  been  amalgamated  with  the  proposed 
reform. 

While  all  practical  discussion  of  the 
constitution  oi  France,  as  a  subject  either 
above  or  beneath  philosophical  inquiry,  was 
tfcus  cautiously  omitted  in  those  works 
which  pretended  to  treat  of  civil  rights, 
that  of  England,  with  its  counterpoises  and 
checks,  its  liberal  principle  of  equality  of 
rights,  the  security  which  it  affords  for  per- 
sonal liberty  and  individual  property,  and 
the  free  opportunities  of  discussion  upon 
•Tery  subject,  became  naturally  the  subject 
<>f  eulogy  amongst  those  who  were  awaken- 
log  their  countrymen  to  a  sense  of  ths  ben- 


efits of  national  freedom.  The  time  wu 
past,  when,  as  in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV., 
the  French  regarded  the  institutions  of  th» 
English  with  contempt,  as  fit  only  for  mcE- 
chants  and  shopkeepers,  but  unworthy  of 
a  nation  of  warriors,  whose  pride  was  in 
their  subordination  to  their  nobles,  as  that 
of  the  nobles  consisted  in  obedience  to 
their  king.  That  prejudice  had  long  pass- 
ed away,  and  Frenchmen  now  admired,  not 
without  envy,  the  noble  system  of  mascu- 
line freedom  which  had  beea  consolidated 
by  the  successive  efforts  of  so  many  patri- 
ots in  so  many  ages.  A  sudden  revulsion 
seemed  to  take  place  in  their  general  feel- 
ings towards  their  neighbours,  and  France, 
who  had  so  long  dictated  to  all  Europe  in 
matters  of  fashion,  seemed  now  herself 
disposed  to  borrow  the  more  simple  forms 
and  fashions  of  her  ancient  rival.  The 
spirit  of  imitating  the  English,  was  carried 
even  to  the  veige  of  absurdity.  Not  only 
did  Frenchmen  of  quality  adopt  the  round 
hat  and  frock  coat,  which  set  etiquette  at 
defiance — not  only  had  they  English  car- 
riages, dogs,  and  horses,  but  even  English 
butlers  were  hired,  that  the  wine,  which 
was  the  growth  of  France,  might  be  placed 
on  the  table  with  the  grace  peculiar  to 
England.  These  were,  indeed,  the  mere 
ebullitions  of  fashion  carried  to  excess,  but 
like  the  foam  on  the  crest  of  the  billow, 
they  argued  the  depth  and  strength  of  tb« 
wave  beneath,  and,  insignificant  in  them- 
selves, were  formidable  as  evincing  the 
contempt  with  which  the  French  now  re- 
garded all  those  forms  and  usages,  wmcb. 
had  hitherto  been  thought  peculiar  to  their 
own  country.  This  principle  of  imitation 
rose  to  such  extravagance,  that  it  was  hap- 
pily termed  the  Anglomania.* 

While  the  young  French  gallants  wer« 
emulously  employed  in  this  mimicry  of  the 
English  fashions,  relinquishing  the  external 
signs  of  rank  which  always  produce  some 
effect  on  the  vulgar,  men  of  thought  and 
reflection  were  engaged  in  analysing  those 
principles  of  the  British  government,  on. 
which  the  national  character  has  been 
formed,  and  which  have  afforded  her  the 
means  of  rising  from  so  many  reverses,  and 
maintaining  a  sway  among  the  kingdoms 


*  An  instance  is  given,  ludicrous  in  itself, 
but  almost  prophetic,  when  connected  with 
subsequent  events.  A  courtier,  deeply  in- 
fected with  the  fashion  of  the  time,  was 
riding  beside  the  king's  carriage  at  a  full 
trot,  without  observing  that  his  horse's 
heels  threw  the  mud  into  the  royal  vehicle. 
"  Vous  me  crottez.  Monsieur,"  said  tb« 
King.  The  horseman,  considering  the  words 
were  "  Vous  trottez,"  and  that  the  prince 
complimented  his  equestrian  performance, 
answered,  "  Oui,  Sire,  a  I'Angloise.''  Th» 
good-Jiumoured  monarch  drew  up  the  glass, 
and  only  said  to  the  gentleman  in  the  cat- 
riage,  ''  Voild  une  Anglomanie  bien  forte  F" 
Alas  !  the  unhappy  prince  lived  to  see  the 
example  of  England,  in  her  most  disnui, 
period,  foUotKed  to  a  oiucb  more  ferrai4^ 
ble  extend. 


36 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chqf.ML 


of  Europe,  so  disproportioned  to  her  popu- 
lation and  extent. 

To  complete  the  conquest  of  English 
opinions,  even  in  France  herself,  over  Aose 
of  French  origin,  came  the  consequences 
of  the  American  War.  Those  true  French- 
men who  disdained  to  borrow  the  senti- 
ments of  political  freedom  from  England, 
might  now  derive  them  from  a  country  with 
whom  France  could  have  no  rivalry,  but  in 
whom,  on  the  contrary,  she  recognized  the 
enemy  of  the  island,  in  policy  or  prejudice 
termed  her  own  natural  foe.  The  deep 
sympathy  manifested  by  the  French  in  the 
success  of  the  American  insurgents,  though 
diametrically  opposite  to  the  interests  of 
their  government,  or  perhaps  of  the  nation 
at  large,  was  compounded  of  too  many  in- 
gredients influencing  all  ranks,  to  be  over- 
come or  silenced  by  cold  considerations  of 
political  prudence.  The  nobility,  always 
eager  of  martial  distinction,  were  in  gen- 
eral desirous  of  war,  and  most  of  them,  the 
pupils  of  the  celebrated  Encyclopedie, 
were  doubly  delighted  to  lend  their  swords 
to  the  cause  of  freedom.  The  statesmen 
imagined  that  they  saw,  in  the  success  of 
the  American  insurgents,  the  total  downfall 
of  the  English  empire,  or  at  least  a  far  de- 
scent from  that  pinnacle  of  dignity  which 
she  had  attained  at  the  Peace  of  1763,  and 
they  eagerly  urged  Louis  XVL  to  profit  by 
the  opportunity,  hitherto  sought  in  vain,  of 
humbling  a  rival  so  formidable.  In  the 
courtly  circles,  and  particularly  in  that 
which  surrounded  Marie  Antoinette,  the 
American  deputation  had  the  address  or 
good  fortune  to  become  oonular,  by  min- 
gling in  them  with  manners  and  sentiments 
entirely  opposite  to  those  of  courts  and 
courtiers,  and  exhibiting,  amid  the  extrem- 
ity of  refinement,  in  dress,  speech,  and 
manners,  a  republican  simplicity,  rendered 
interesting  both  by  the  contrast,  and  by  the 
talents  which  Benjamin  Franklin  and  Silas 
Deane  evinced,  xiot  only  in  the  business  of 
diplomacy,  but  in  the  intercourse  of  soci- 
ety. Impelled  by  these  and  other  combin- 
ing causes,  a  despotic  government,  whose 
subjects  were  already  thoroughly  imbued 
with  opinions  hostile  to  its  constitution  in 
church  and  state,  with  a  discontented  peo- 
ple, and  a  revenue  well  nigh  bankrupt,  was 
thrust,  as  if  by  fatality,  into  a  contest  con- 
ducted upon  principles  most  adverse  to  its 
own  existence. 

The  King,  almost  alone,  whether  dread- 
ing the  expense  of  a  ruinous  war,  whether 
alarmed  already  at  the  progress  of  demo- 
cratic principles,  or  whether  desirous  of 
observing  good  faith  with  England,  consid- 
ered that  there  ought  to  be  a  stronger  mo- 
tive for  war,  than  barely  the  opportunity  of 
waging  it  with  success  ;  the  King,  there- 
fore, almost  alone,  opposed  this  great  po- 
litical error.  It  was  not  the  only  occasion 
in  which,  wise-  than  his  counsellors,  he 
Bevertheless  yielded  up  to  their  urgency 
opinions  fouii'iod  in  unbiassed  morality,  and 
unpretending  common  sense.  A  good  judg- 
ment, »nd  a  sound  inoral  sense,  were  the 
principal  attributes  of  this  excellent  prince, 
and  happy  it  would  have  been  had  they 


been  mingled  with  more  confidence  in  him- 
self, and  a  deeper  distrust  of  others. 

Other  counsels  prevailed  over  the  private 
opinion  of  Louis — the  war  was  commenc- 
ed — successfully  carried  on,  and  yicton 
ously  concluded.  We  have  seen  that  the 
French  auxiliaries  brought  with  them  to 
America  minds  apt  to  receive,  if  not  al- 
ready* imbued  with,  those  principles  of 
freedom  for  which  the  colonies  had  taken 
up  arms  against  the  mother  country,  and  it 
is  not.  to  be  wondered  if  they  returned  to 
France  strongly  prepossessed  in  favour  of 
a  cause,  for  which  they  had  encountered 
danger,  and  in  which  they  had  reaped  hon- 
our. 

The  inferior  officers  of  the  French  aux- 
iliary army,  chiefly  men  of  birth,  agreeably 
to  the  existing  rules  of  the  French  service, 
belonged,  most  of  them,  to  the  class  of 
country  nobles,  who,  from  causes  already 
noticed,  were  far  from  being  satisfied  with 
the  system  which  rendered  their  rise  diffi- 
cult, in  the  only  profession  which  their 
prejudices,  and  those  of  France  permitted 
them  to  assume.  The  proportion  of  ple- 
beians who  had  intruded  themselves,  b_T 
connivance  and  indirect  means,  into  the 
military  ranks,  looked  with  eagerness  to 
some  change  whicli  should  give  a  free  and 
open  career  to  their  courage  and  their  am- 
bition, and  were  proportionally  discontent- 
ed with  regulations  which  were  recently 
adopted,  calculated  to  render  their  rise  in 
the  army  more  diflicult  than  before.t  In 
these  sentiments  were  united  the  whole  of 
the  non-commissioned  officers,  and  tlw 
ranks  of  the  common  soldiery,  all  of  whom, 
confiding  in  their  own  courage  and  fortune, 
now  became  indignant  at  those  barriers 
which  closed  against  them  the  road  to  mil- 
itary advancement,  and  to  superior  com- 
mand. The  officers  of  superior  rank,  who 
derived  their  descent  from  the  high  no- 
blesse, were  chiefly  young  men  of  ambi- 
tious enterprize  and  warm  imaginations, 
whom  not  only  a  love  of  honour,  but  an 
entlmsiastic  feeling  of  devotion  to  the  new 
philosophy,  and  the  political  principles 
which  it  inculcated,  had  called  to  arms. 
Amongst  these  were  Rochambeau,  LaFay- 


*  By  some  young  enthusiasts,  the  as- 
sumption of  republican  habits  was  carried 
to  all  the  heights  of  revolutionary  aflect&- 
tion  and  extravagance.  Segur  mentions  a 
young  coxcomb  named  Mauduit,  who  al- 
ready distinguished  himself  by  renouncing 
the  ordinary  courtesies  of  life,  and  insisting 
on  beinpf  called  by  his  Christian  and  sur- 
name, without  the  usual  addition  of  Mon- 
sieur. 

t  Plebeians  formerly  got  into  the  army 
by  obtaining  the  subscription  of  four  men 
of  noble  birth,  actesting  their  patrician  de 
scent ;  and  such  certificates,  however  false 
could  always  be  obtained  for  a  small  sum 
But  by  a  regulation  of  the  Count  Segur, 
after  the  American  war,  candidates  for  the 
military  profession  were  oblig'^d  to  produce 
a  certificate  of  noble  birth  from  the  king's 
genealogist,  in  addition  to  the  attestattoo^ 
which  were  fctmerly  held  suificient. 


Chap.  IZl] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


37 


etle,  the  Lameths,  Chastellux,  Sfegur,  and 
others  of  exalted  rank,  but  of  no  less  exalt- 
ed feelings  for  the  popular  cause.  They 
readily  forgot,  in  the  full  current  of  their 
enthusiasm,  that  their  own  rank  in  society 
was  endangered  by  the  progress  of  popular 
opinions,  or  if  they  at  all  remembered  that 
their  intei  et  was  thus  implicated,  it  was 
with  the  generous  disinterestedness  of 
youth,  prompt  to  sacrifice  to  the  public  ad- 
vantage whatever  of  selfish  immunities  was 
attached  to  their  own  condition. 

The  return  of  the  French  army  from 
America,  thus  brought  a  strong  body  of  aux- 
iliaries to  the  popular  and  now  prevalent 
3 unions  •,  and  the  French  love  of  military 
ory,  which  had  so  long  been  the  safeguard 
of  the  throne,  beczjne  now  intimately  iden- 
tified with  that  distinguished  portion  of  the 
army  which  had  been  so  lately  and  so  suc- 
cessfully engaged  in  defending  the  claims 
of  the  people  against  the  rights  of  an  es- 
tablished government.  Their  laurels  were 
green  and  newly  gathered,  while  those 
which  had  been  obtained  in  the  cause  of 
monarchy  were  of  an  ancient  date,  and  tar- 
nished by  the  reverses  of  the  Seven  Years' 


War.  The  reception  of  the  returned  sol- 
diery and  their  leaders  was  proportionally 
enthusiastic  ;  and  it  became  soon  evident^ 
that  when  the  eventful  strug;gle  betwixt  the 
existing  monarchy  and  its  adversaries  should 
commence,  the  latter  were  to  have  th» 
support  in  sentiment,  and  probably  in  ac- 
tion, of  that  distinguished  part  of  the  ar- 
my, which  had  of  late  maintained  and  re- 
covered the  military  character  of  France. 
It  was,  accordingly,  from  its  ranks  that  the 
Revolution  derived  many  of  its  most  formi- 
dable champions,  and  it  was  their  example 
which  detached  a  great  proportion  of  the 
French  soldiers  from  their  natural  allegi- 
ance to  the  sovereign,  which  had  been  lor 
so  many  ages  expressed  in  their  war-cry  of 
"  Vive  le  Roi,"  and  which  was  revived, 
though  with  an  altered  object,  in  that  of 
"  Vive  I' Empereur." 

There  remains  but  to  notice  the  other 
proximate  cause  of  the  Revolution,  but 
which  is  so  intimately  connected  with  its 
rise  and  progress,  that  we  cannot  disjoin  it 
from  our  brief  review  of  the  revolutionary 
movements  to  which  it  gave  the  first  dew- 
sive  impulse. 


CHAP.  III. 

Proximate  Cavse  of  the  Revolution. — Deranged  State  of  the  Finances. — Reforms  in 
the  Royal  Household. — System  of  Turcot  and  Necker — Necker's  Exposition  of  tht 
State  of  the  Public  Revenue. —  The  Red-book. — Necker  displaced — Succeeded  by 
Calonne. — General  State  of  the  Revenue. — Asse7nbly  of  the  Notables. — Calonne  dis- 
missed.— Archbishop  of  Sens  Administrator  of  the  Finances. —  The  King's  ConteU 
with  the  Parliament — Bed  of  Justice — Resistance  of  the  Parliament  and  general  Dis- 
order in  the  Kingdom. —  Vacillating  Policy  of  the  Minister — Royal  Sitting — Schem* 
of  forming  a  Cour  Pleniere — It  proves  ineffectual. — Archbishop  of  Sens  retires,  and 
is  succeeded  by  Necker — He  resolves  to  convoke  the  States  General. — Second  Assem- 
bly of  Notables  previous  to  Convocation  of  the  States. — Questions  as  to  the  Number* 
of  which  the  Tiers  Etat  should  consist,  and  the  Mode  in  which  the  Estates  shotdd  dt' 
liberate. 


We  have  already  compared  the  monarchy 
of  France  to  an  ancient  building,  which, 
however  decayed  by  the  wasting  injuries  of 
time,  may  long  remain  standing,  from  the 
mere  adhesion  of  its  patrts,  unless  it  is  as- 
sailed by  some  sudden  and  unexpected 
shock,  the  immediate  violence  of  which 
completes  the  ruin  which  the  lapse  of  ages 
had  only  prepared.  Or  if  its  materials  have 
become  dry  and  combustible,  still  they  may 
long  wait  for  the  spark  which  is  to  awake  a 
general  conflagration.  Thus,  the  monarch- 
ical government  of  France,  notwithstand- 
mg  the  unsoundness  of  all  its  parts,  might 
have  for  some  time  continued  standing  and 
nnconsumed,  nay,  with  timely  and  judicious 
repairs,  might  have  been  entire  at  this  mo- 
ment, had  the  state  of  the  finances  of  the 
kingdom  permitted  the  monarch  to  tempo- 
rize with  the  existing  discontents  and  the 
progress  of  new  opinions,  without  increas- 
ing tha  taxes  of  a  people  already  greatly 
overburthened,  and  now  become  fully  sen- 
sible that  these  burthens  were  unequally 
imposed,  and  sometimes  prodigally  dis- 
pensed. 

A  government,  like  an  individual,  maybe 
guilty  of  many  acts,  both  of  injustice  and 


folly,  with  some  chance  of  impunity,  pro- 
vided it  possesses  wealth  enough  to  com- 
mand partizans  and  to  silence  opposition  j 
and  history  shows  us,  that  as,  on  the  one 
hand,  wealthy  and  money-saving  monarcha 
have  usually  been  able  to  render  them- 
selves most  independent  of  their  subjects, 
so,  on  the  other,  it  is  from  needy  princes, 
and  when  exchequers  are  empty,  that  the 
people  have  obtained  grants  favourable  to 
freedom  in  exchange  for  their  supplies. 
The  period  of  pecuniary  distress  in  a  gov- 
ernment, if  it  be  that  when  the  subjects  are 
most  exposed  to  oppression,  is  also  the  cri- 
sis in  which  they  have  the  best  chance  ot 
recovering  their  political  rights. 

It  is  vain  that  the  constitution  of  a.  des- 
potic government  endeavours,  in  its  forms, 
to  guard  against  the  dangers  of  such  con- 
junctures, by  vesting  in  the  sovereign  the 
most  complete  and  unbounded  right  to  tke 
property  of  his  subjects.  This  doctrine, 
however  ample  in  theory,  cannot  in  prac- 
tice be  carried  beyond  certain  bounds,  with- 
out producing  either  privy  conspiracy  or 
open  insurrection,  being  the  violent  symp- 
toms of  the  outraged  feelings  and  exhaust- 
ed patience  of  the  subject,  which  in  abiw- 


^ 


«8 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  jn. 


lute  monarchies  supply  the  want  of  all  reg- 
ular political  checks  upon  the  power  of  the 
crown.  Whenever  the  point  of  human  suf- 
ferance is  exceeded,  the  despot  must  propi- 
tiate the  wrath  of  an  insurgent  people  with 
the  head  of  his  minister,  or  he  may  tremble 
for  his  own.* 

In  constitutions  of  a  less  determined  des- 
potical  character,  there  almost  always  aris- 
es some  power  of  check  or  control,  how- 
ever anomalous,  which  balances  or  coun- 
teracts the  arbitrary  exactions  of  the  sove- 
reign, instead  of  the  actual  resistance  of 
Uie  subjects,  as  at  Fez  or  Constantinople. 
This  was  the  case  in  France. 

No  constitution  could  have  been  more 
absolute  in  theory  than  that  of  France,  for 
two  hundred  years  past,  in  the  matter  of 
finance  ;  but  yet  in  practice  there  exisited 
a  power  of  control  in  the  Parliaments,  and 
particularly  in  that  of  Paris.  These  courts, 
though  strictly  speaking  they  were  consti- 
tuted only  for  the  administration  of  justice, 
had  forced  themselves,  or  been  forced  by 
circumstances,  into  a  certain  degree  of  po- 
litical power,  which  they  exercised  in  con- 
trol of  the  crown,  in  the  imposition  of  new 
taxes.  It  was  agreed  on  all  hands,  that  the 
royal  edicts,  enforcing  such  new  imposi- 
tions, must  be  registered  by  the  Parlia- 
ments ;  but  while  the  ministers  held  the 
act  of  registering  such  edicts  to  be  a  deed 
purely  ministerial,  and  the  discharge  of  a 
function  imposed  by  their  official  duty,  the 
magistrates  insisted,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
they  possessed  the  power  of  deliberating 
and  remonstrating,  nay,  of  refusing  to  regis- 
ter the  royal  edicts,  and  that  unless  so  reg- 
istered these  warrants  had  no  force  or  ef- 
fect. The  Parliaments  exercised  this  pow- 
er of  control  on  various  occasions ;  and  as 
their  interference  was  always  on  behalf  of 
the  subject,  the  practice,  however  anoma- 
lous, waa  sanctioned  by  public  opinion ; 
and,  in  the  absence  of  all  other  representa- 
tives of  the  people,  France  naturally  look- 
ed up  to  the  magistrates  as  the  protectors 
of  her  rights,  and  as  the  only  power  which 
could  offer  even  the  semblance  of  resist- 
(Uice  to  the  arbitrary  increase  of  the  bur- 
thens of  the  state.  These  functionaries 
cannot  be  charged  with  carelessness  or 
cowardice  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty  ; 
ajid  as  taxes  increased  and  became  at  the 
oame  time  less  productive,  the  opposition 
of  the  Parliaments  became  more  iormida- 
ble.  Louis  XV.  endeavoured  to  break  their 
spirit  by  euppression  of  their  court,  and 
banishment  of  i^^s  members  from  Paris  ;  but 
notwithstanding  this  temporary  victory,  he 
is  said  to  have  predicted  that  his  successor 
might  not  come  off  from  the  renewed  con- 
test so  successfully. 

Louis  XVI..  with  the  plain  well-meaning 
honesty  whicn  marked  his   character,  re- 


•  When  Buonaparte  expressed  much  re- 
gret and  anxiety  on  account  of  the  ass.-vs6in- 
ation  of  the  Emperor  P.iul,  he  was  com- 
forted by  Fouch(5  with  words  to  the  follow- 
ing effect:—"  Que  voulez  vous  ealin  ?  C'est 
«ne  mode  de  destitution  propre  a,  ce  pais- 


stored  the  Parliaments  to  their  constitntioa* 
al  powers  immediately  on  his  Accession  to 
the  throne,  having  the  generosity  to  regard 
their  resistance  to  his  grandfather  as  a  mer- 
it rather  than  an  offence.  In  the  meanwhile, 
the  revenue  of  the  kingdom  liad  fallen  into 
a  most  disastrous  condition.  The  coutimi- 
ed  and  renewed  expense  of  unsucceBsTul 
wars,  the  supplying  the  demands  of  a  Inxu- 
rious  court,  the  gratifying  hungry  courtiera, 
and  enriching  needy  favourites,  bad  occa- 
sioned large  deficits  upon  the  public  in- 
come of  each  successive  year.  The  minis- 
ters, meanwhile,  anxious  to  provide  for  the 
passing  moment  of  their  own  axlministration, 
were  satisfied  to  put  off  the  evil  day  by 
borrowing  money  at  he-avy  interest,  and 
leasing  out,  in  security  of  these  loans,  th* 
various  sources  of  revenue  to  the  farmers- 
general.  On  their  pa/t,  these  financiers  us- 
ed the  governme;nt  as  bankrupt  prodigal* 
are  treated  by  usurious  money-brokera, 
who,  feeding  thevr  extraragance  with  th* 
one  hand,  wi*,h  »,he  other  wring  out  of  theit 
ruined  fortunes  the  most  unreasonable  re- 
compence  for  their  advances.  By  a  long 
succession  of  these  ruinous  loans,  and  tha 
various  ri-jhts  granted  to  guarantee  them, 
the  wliol.e  finances  of  France  appear  to 
h^ive  fall.eu  into  total  confusion,  and  present- 
ed au  iriextricable  chaos  to  those  who  en- 
deavo'ared  to  bring  them  into  order.  Tbm 
farro.ers-general,  therefore,  however  ob- 
nor.ious  to  the  people,  who  considered  with 
justice  that  their  overgrown  fortunes  wer* 
f.ourished  by  the  life-blood  of  the  com- 
munity, continued  to  be  essentially  neces- 
sary to  the  state,  the  expenses  of  which 
they  alone  could  find  means  of  defraying  ;— 
thus  supporting  the  government,  although 
Mirabeau  said  with  truth,  it  was  only  in  wm 
sense  which  a  rope  supports  a  hanged  man. 
Louis  XVI.,  fully  sensible  of  the  disas- 
trous state  of  the  public  revenue,  did  all  b« 
could  \.Q  contrive  a  remedy.  He  limited 
his  personal  expenses,  and  those  of  hia 
household,  with  a  rigour  which  approached 
to  parsimony,  and  dimmed  the  necessary 
splendour  of  the  throne.  He  abolished  ma»- 
ny  pensions,  and  by  doing  so  not  only  dis- 
obliged those  who  were  deprived  of  the  in- 
stant enjoyment  of  those  gratuities,  but  losi 
the  attachment  of  the  much  more  numer- 
ous class  of  expectants,  who  served  th» 
court  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  similar  grat- 
ifications in  their  turn.*  Lastly,  he  dismisa- 

*■  Louis  XV.  had  the  arts  if  not  the  Tir^ 
tues  of  a  monarch.  He  asked  one  of  his 
ministers  what  he  supposed  might  be  th* 
price  of  the  carriage  in  which  they  wer» 
sitting.  The  minister,  making  a  greatallow- 
ance  for  the  monarch's  paying  en  prince, 
yet  guessed  within  two  thirds  less  than  th» 
real  sum.  When  the  king  named  the  actu- 
al price,  the  statesman  exclaimed,  but  tha 
monarch  cut  him  short,  "Do not  attempt,* 
he  said,  "  to  reform  the  expenses  of  my 
household.  There  are  too  many,  and  to* 
great  men,  who  have  their  share  in  that  ex- 
tortion, and  to  make  a  reformation  would 
give  too  much  discontent.  No  minister 
can  attempt  i:  vnitii  success  or  with  aafaty." 


Chap-  in.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


39 


•d  arery  large  proportion  of  his  household  I  principal  source  of  popular  discontent,  had 


troops  and  body-guaids,  affording  another 
Bubject  of  discontent  to  the  nobles,  out  of 
whose  families  these  corps  were  recruited, 
and  destroying  with  his  own  hand  a  force 
devotedly  attached  to  the  royal  person,  and 
which,  in  the  hour  of  popular  fury,  would 
have  been  a  barrier  of  inappreciable  value. 
Thus,  it  was  the  misfortune  of  this  well- 
meaning  prince,  only  to  weaken  his  own 
cause  and  endanger  his  safety,  by  those 
sacrifices,  intended  to  relieve  the  burthens 
of  the  people  and  supply  the  wants  of  the 
«tate. 

The  King  adopted  a  broader  and  more 
affectuaJ  course  of  reform,  by  using  the  ad- 
▼ice  of  upright  and  skilful  ministers,  to  in- 
troduce, as  far  as  possible,  some  degree  of 
order   into   the  French  finances.     Turgot. 
Malesherbes,  and  Necker,  were  persons  of 
anquestionable  skill,  of  sound  views,  and 
undisputed  integrity  ;  and  although  the  last- 
named  minister  finally  sunk  in  public  es- 
teem, it  was  only  because   circumstances 
had  excited  such  an  extravagant  opinion  of 
his  powers,  aa  could  not  have  been  met  and 
realized  by  those  of  the  first  financier  who 
ever  lived.    These  virtuous   and  patriotic 
statesmen  did  all  in  their  power  to  keep 
afloat  the  vessel  of  the  state,  and  to  prevent 
at  least  the  increase  of  the   deficit,  which 
now  arose  yearly  on  the  public  accounts. 
They,  and  Necker  in  particular,  introduced 
economy  and  retrenchment  into  all  depart- 
ments of  the  revenue,  restored  the  public 
credit  without  increasing  the  national  bur- 
thens, and,  by  obtaining  loans  on  reasonable 
terms,  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  funds 
for  the  immediate  support  of  the  American 
war,  expensive  as  it  was,  without  pressing 
on  the  patience  of  the  people  by  new  im- 
positions.   Could  this  state  of  matters  have 
been  supported  for  some  years,  opportuni- 
ties might  in  that  time  have  occurred  for 
adapting  the  French  mode  of  government 
to  the  new  lights  which  the  age  afforded 
Public  opinion,  joined  to  the  beneficence  of 
the  sovereign,  had  already  ^vTought  several 
important  and  desirable  changes.   Many  ob- 
noxious and  oppressive  laws  had  been  ex- 
pressly abrogated,  or  tacitly  suffered  to  be- 
come obsolete,  and  there  never  sate  a  king 
wpon  the  French  or  any  other  throne,  more 
willing  than   Louis   XVI.  to  sacrifice  his 
own  personal   interest  and  prerogative  to 
whatever  seemed  to  be  the  benefit  of  the 
state.    Even  at  the  very   commencement 
of  his  reign,  and  when   obeying  only  the 
dictates  of  his  own  beneficence,  he  reform- 
ed the  penal  code  of  France,  which  then 
savoured  of  the  barbarous  times  in  v/hich  it 
had   originated — he    abolished  the  use   of 
torture — he  restored  to  freedom  those  pris- 
oners of  state,  the   mournful  inhabitants  of 
thp  Bastille,  and  other  fortresses,  who  had 
been  the  victims  of  his  grandfather's  jeal- 
ousy— the    compulsory    labour   called   the 
aorvet,  levied  from  the  peasantry,  and  one 


This  is  the  picture  of  the  waste  attending 
a  despotic  government — the  cup  which  is 
filled  to  the  very  brim  cannot  be  liAed  to 
(ha  Upa  without  wftsting  the  contents. 


been  abolished  in  some  provinces  and  mod- 
ified in  others — and  while  the  police  was 
under  the  regulation  of  the  sage  and  virti> 
ous  Malesherbes,  its  arbitrary  powers  had 
been  seldom  so  exercised  as  to  become  \hm 
subject  of  complaint.  In  short,  the  mon- 
arch partook  the  influence  of  public  opinion 
along  with  his  subjects,  and  there  seemed 
just  reason  to  hope,  that,  had  times  remain- 
ed moderate,  the  monarchy  of  France  might 
have  been  reformed  instead  of  being  de- 
stroyed. 

Unhappily,  convulsions  of  the  state  b^ 
came  from  day  to  day  more  violent,  and 
Louis  XVI.,  who  possessed  the  benevo- 
lence and  good  intentions  of  his  ancestor. 
Henry  IV.,  wanted  his  military  talents  ana 
his  political  firmness.  In  consequence  of 
this  deficiency,  the  King  suffered  himself 
to  be  distracted  by  a  variety  of  counsels ;  and 
vacillating,  as  all  must  who  act  more  from 
a  general  desire  to  do  that  which  is  right, 
than  upon  any  determined  and  well-consid- 
ered system,  he  placed  his  power  and  his 
character  at  the  mercy  of  the  changeful 
course  of  events,  which  firmness  might  have 
at  least  combated,  if  it  could  not  control. 
But  it  is  remarkable  that  Louis  resembled 
Charles  I.  of  England  more  than  any  of  his- 
own  ancestors,  in  a  want  of  self-confidence, 
which  led  to  frequent  alterations  of  mind 
and  changes  of  measures,  aa  well  as  in  a 
tendency  to  uxoriousness,  which  enabled 
both  HenriettaMaria,  andMarie  Antoinette, 
to  use  a  fatal  influence  upon  their  counsels. 
Both  sovereigns  fell  under  the  same  sus- 
picion of  being  deceitful  and  insincere, 
when  perhaps  both,  but  certainly  Louis, 
only  changed  his  course  of  conduct  from 
a  change  of  his  own  opinion,  or  from  suffer- 
ing himself  to  be  over-persuaded,  and  de- 
ferrmg  to  the  sentiments  of  others. 

Few  monarchs  of  any  country,  certainly, 
have  chans:ed  their  ministry,  and  with  their 
ministry  their  councils  and  measures,  so 
often  as  Louis  XVI. ;  and  with  this  un- 
happy consequence,  that  he  neither  perse- 
vered in  a  firm  and  severe  course  of  gov>- 
emment  long  enough  to  inspire  respect,  nor 
in  a  conciliatory  and  yieldmg  policy  for  a 
sufficient  time  to  propitiate  regard  and  in- 
spire confidence.  It  is  with  regret  we  no» 
tice  this  imperfection  in  a  character  other- 
wise so  excellent ;  but  it  was  one  of  the 
leading  causes  of  the  Revolution,  that  » 
prince,  possessed  of  power  too  great  to  b« 
either  kept  or  resigned  with  safety,  hesitat- 
ed between  the  natural  resolution  to  defend 
his  hereditary  prerogative,  and  the  sense  of 
justice  which  induced  him  to  restore  such 
part  of  it  as  had  been  usurped  from  the  peo- 
ple by  his  ancestors.  By  adhering  to  tb« 
one  course,  he  might  have  been  the  con- 
queror of  the  Revolution  ;  by  adopting  tb« 
other,  he  had  a  chance  to  be  its  guide  and 
governor ;  by  hesitating  between  them,  bo 
became  its  victim. 

It  was  in  consequence  of  this  vacillatios 
of  purpose  that  Louis,  in  1781,  sacrificed 
Turgot  and  Necker  to  the  intrigues  of  th« 
court.  These  statesmen  had  formed  & 
plan  for  new-modf  lling  the  fioaocUd  pait 


40 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  Ul 


of  the  French  monarchy,  which,  while  it 
■hould  gratify  the  people  by  admitting  rep- 
resentatives on  their  part  to  some  influence 
in  the  imposition  of  new  taxes,  might  have 
released  the  King  from  the  interference  of 
the  Parliaments,  (whose  office  of  remon- 
strance, although  valuable  as  a  shelter  from 
despotism,  was  often  arbitrarily,  and  even 
factiously  exercised,)  and  have  transferred 
to  the  direct  representatives  of  the  people 
that  superintendence,  wliich  ought  never 
to  have  been  in  other  hands. 

For  this  purpose  the  ministers  proposed 
to  institute,  in  the  several  provinces  of 
France,  convocations  of  a  representative 
nature,  one  half  of  whom  was  to  be  chosen 
from  the  Commons,  or  Third  Estate,  and 
the  other  named  by  the  Nobles  and  Clergy 
in  equal  proportions,  and  which  assemblies, 
without  having  the  right  of  rejecting  the 
edicts  imptosing  new  taxes,  were  to  appor- 
tion them  amongst  the  subjects  of  their  sev- 
eral provinces.  This  system  contained  in 
it  much  that  was  excellent,  and  might  have 
opened  the  road  for  further  improvements 
on  the  constitution ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  it  would  probably,  so  early  as  1781, 
have  been  received  as  a  boon,  by  which  the 
subjects  were  called  to  participate  in  the 
royal  councils,  rather  than  as  a  concession 
extracted  from  the  wealcness  of  the  sove- 
reign, or  from  his  despair  of  his  own  resour- 
ces. It  afforded  also,  an  opportunity  pe- 
culiarly desirable  in  France,  of  forming 
the  minds  of  the  people  to  the  discharge 
of  public  duty.  The  British  nation  owe 
much  of  the  practical  benefits  of  their 
constitution  to  the  habits  with  which  al- 
most all  men  are  trained  to  exercise  some 
public  right  in  head-courts,  vestries,  and 
other  deliberative  bodies,  where  their  minds 
are  habituated  to  the  course  of  business, 
and  accustomed  to  the  manner  in  which  it 
can  be  most  regularly  despatched.  This 
advantage  would  have  been  supplied  to  the 
French  by  Necker's  scheme. 

Bat  with  all  the  advantages  which  it  pro- 
mised, this  plan  of  provincial  assemblies 
miscarried,  owing  to  the  emulous  opposi- 
tion of  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  who  did 
not  choose  that  any  other  body  than  their 
own,  should  be  considered  as  the  guardi- 
ans of  what  remained  in  France  of  popular 
rights. 

Another  measure  of  Necker  was  of  more 
dubieus  policy.  This  was  the  printing  and 
publishing  of  his  Report  to  the  Sovereign 
of  the  state  of  the  revenues  of  France.  The 
mini-'ster  prohal^ly  thought  this  display  of 
caodour,  wi;icii,  however  proper  in  itself, 
wjB  hitlierto  unknown  in  the  French  ad- 
ministration, mi^^ht  be  useful  to  the  King, 
whom  it  re])rcsented  as  acquiescing  in  pub- 
lic opinion,  and  appearing  not  only  ready, 
but  solicitous,  to  collect  the  sentiments  of 
hia  subjects  on  the  business  of  the  state. 
Necker  might  also  deem  the  Compte  Ren- 
dt:  a  prudent  measure  on  his  own  account, 
to  secure  the  popular  favour,  and  maintain 
himself  by  tiic  nublic  esteem  against  the  in- 
fluence of  court  intrigue.  Or  lastly,  both 
these  motives  miilit  be  mingled  with  the 
•alural  Tanity  of  showing  Uie  world  that 


France  enjoyed,  in  the  person  of  Necker,  a 
minister  bold  enough  to  penetrate  into  the 
labyrinth  of  confusion  and  obscurity  which 
had  been  thought  inextricable  by  all  hia 
predecessors,  and  was  at  length  enabled  to 
render  to  Ihc  sovereign  and  the  people  of 
France  a  detailed  and  balaitced  account  of 
the  state  of  their  finances. 

Neither  did  the  result  of  the  national 
balance-sheet  appear  so  astounding  as  to 
require  its  being  concealed  as  a  state  mys- 
tery. The  deficit,  or  the  balance,  by  which 
the  expenses  of  government  exceeded  the 
revenue  of  the  country,  by  no  means  indi- 
cated a  desperate  state  of  finance,  or  one 
which  must  either  demand  immense  sac- 
rifices, or  otherwise  lead  to  national  bank- 
ruptcy. It  did  not  greatly  exceed  the  an- 
nual defidcation  of  two  millions,  a  sum 
which,  to  a  country  so  fertile  as  France, 
might  even  be  termed  trifling.  At  the  same 
time,  Necker  brought  forward  a  variety  of 
reductions  and  economical  arrangements, 
by  which  he  proposed  to  provide  for  this 
deficiency,  without  either  incurring  debt  or 
burthening  the  subject  with  additional 
taxes. 

But  although  this  general  exposure  of  the 
expenses  of  the  state,  this  appeal  from  the 
government  tothe  j>eople,  had  the  air  of  a 
frank  and. generous  proceeding,  and  was  in 
fact.a  step  to  the  great  constitutional  point  of 
establishing  in  the  nation  and  its  representa- 
tives the  sole  power  of  granting  supplies, 
there  may  be  doubt  whetlier  it  was  not  rather 
too  hastily  resorted  to.  Those  from  whose 
eyes  the  cataract  has  been  removed,  are  for 
sometime  deprived  of  light,  and,  in  the  end, 
it  is  supplied  to  them  by  limited  degrees,  but 
that  glare  which  was  at  once  poured  on  the 
nation  of  France,  served  to  dazzle  as  many 
as  it  illuminated.  The  Compte  RendwwsM 
the  general  subject  of  conversation,  not  on- 
ly in  coffee-houses  and  public  promenades^ 
but  in  saloons  and  ladies'  boudoirs,  and 
amongst  society  better  qualified  to  discuss 
the  merits  of  the  last  comedy,  or  any  other 
frivolity  of  the  day.  The  very  array  of  fig- 
ures had  something  ominous  auid  terrible  in 
it,  and  the  word  deficit  was  used,  like  the 
name  of  Marlborough  of  old,  to  frightea 
children  with. 

To  most  it  intimated  the  total  bankrupt- 
cy of  the  nation,  and  prepared  many  to  act 
with  the  selfish  and  short-sighted  licence 
of  sailors,  who  plunder  the  cargo  of  their 
own  vessel  in  the  act  of  ship^vreck. 

Others  saw,  in  the  account  of  expense* 
attached  to  the  person  and  dignity  of  the 
prince,  a  wasteful  expenditure,  which  in 
that  hour  of  avowed  necessity  a  nation 
might  well  dispense  with.  Men  began  to 
number  the  guards  and  household  pomp  of 
the  sovereign  and  his  court,  as  the  daugh- 
ters of  Lear  did  the  train  of  their  father. 
The  reduction  already  commenced  might 
be  carried,  thought  these  provident  persons, 
yet  farther  :— 

"  What  needs  he  five-and-twenty,  ten,  or 
five?" 

And  no  doubt  some,  even  at  this  early  peri* 
od;  arrived  at  the  ultimate  coaclusion. 


Chap.  Iff.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


41 


"  What  needs  one  ?" 

Besides  the  domestic  and  household  ex- 
penses of  the  sovereign,  which,  so  far  as 
personal,  were  on  the  most  moderate  scale, 
the  public  mind  was  much  more  justly  re- 
■volted  at  the  large  sum  yearly  squandered 
among  needy  courtiers  and  their  depend- 
ants, or  even  less  justifiably  lavished  upon 
those  whose  rank  and  fortune  ought  to  have 
placed  them  far  above  adding  to  the  bur- 
thens of  the  subjects.  The'King  had  endeav- 
oured to  abridge  this  list  of  gratuities  and 
pensions,  but  the  system  of  corruption 
which  had  prevailed  for  two  centuries,  was 
not  to  be  abolished  in  an  instant;  the 
throne,  already  tottering,  could  not  imme- 
diately be  deprived  of  the  band  of  stipendi- 
ary grandees  whom  it  had  so  long  maintain- 
ed, and  who  afforded  it  their  countenance 
in  return,  and  it  was  perhaps  impolitic  to 
fix  the  attention  of  the  public  on  a  disclos- 
ure BO  p?culii.rly  invidious,  until  the  oppor- 
tunity of  correcting  it  should  arrive  :— it 
was  like  the  disclosure  of  a  wasting  sore, 
useless  and  disgusting  unless  when  shown 
to  a  surgeon,  and  for  the  purpose  of  cure. 
Yet,  though  the  account  rendered  by  the 
minister  of  the  finances,  while  it  passed 
from  the  hand  of  one  idler  to  another,  and 
occupied  on  sofas  and  toilettes  the  place  of 
the  latest  novel,  did  doubtless  engage  gid- 
dy heads  in  vain  and  dangerous  speculation, 
something  was  to  be  risked  in  order  to  pave 
the  way  of  regaining  for  the  French  sub- 
jects the  right  most  essential  to  freemen, 
that  of  granting  or  refusing  their  own  sup- 
plies. The  publicity  of  the  distressed  state 
of  the  finances',  induced  a  general  convic- 
tion that  the  oppressive  system  of  taxation, 
and  that  of  approaching  bankruptcy,  which 
was  a  still  greater  evil,  could  only  be  re- 
moved or  avoided  by  resorting  to  the  nation 
itself,  convoked  in  their  ancient  form  of 
representation,  which  was  called  the  States- 
General. 

It  was  true  that,  through  length  of  time, 
the  nature  and  powers  of  this  body  were  for- 
gotten, if  indeed  they  had  ever  been  very 
thoroughly  fixed  ;  and  it  was  also  true  that 
the  constitution  of  the  States-General  of 
1614,  which  was  the  last  date  of  their  being 
assembled,  was  not  likely  to  suit  a  period 
when  the  country  was  so  much  changed, 
both  in  character  and  circumstances.  The 
doubts  concerning  the  composition  of  the 
medicine,  and  its  probable  effects,  seldom 
abate  the  patient's  confidence.  .\11  joined 
in  desiring  the  convocation  of  this  repre- 
eentative  body,  and  all  expected  that  such 
an  aasembly  would  be  able  to  find  some 
satisfactory  remedy  for  the  pressing  evils 
of  the  state.  The  cry  was  general,  and,  as 
usual  in  such  cases,  few  who  joined  in  it 
knew  exactly  what  it  was  they  wanted. 

Looking  back  on  the  period  of  1780,  with 
the  advantage  of  our  own  experience,  it  is 
possible  to  see  a  chance,  though  perhaps  a 
doubtful  one,  of  avoiding  the  universal 
shipwreck  which  was  fated  to  ensue.  If 
the  royal  go^•ernment,  determining  to  grat- 
ify the  general  wish,  had  taken  the  initiat- 
ive in  conc2ding  the  great  national  meas- 


I  ure  as  a  boon  flowing  from  the  princes  pure 
!  good-will  and  love  of  his  subjects,  and  if 
measures  had  been  taken  rapidly  and  deG.- 
sively  to  secure  seats  in  these  bodies,  but 
particularly  i:i  the  Tiers  Etat,  to  men  knovm 
for  ineir  moderation  and  adherence  to  the 
monarchy,  it  seems  probable  that  the  Crown 
might  have  secured  such  an  interest  in-* 
body  of  its  own  creation,  as  would  have  si- 
lenced tlie  attempts  of  any  heated  spirits  to 
hurry  the  kingdom  into  absolute  revolutioa. 
The  reverence  paid  to  the  throne  for  bo 
many  centuries,  had  yet  all  the  influence 
of  unassailed  sanctity  ;  the  King  was  still 
the  master  of  an  army,  commanded  under 
him  by  his  nobles,  and  as  yet  animated  by 
the  spirit  of  loyalty,  which  is  the  natural 
attribute  of  the  military  profession ;  the 
minds  of  men  were  not  warmed  at  oncc^ 
and  wearied,  by  a  fruitless  and  chicaning 
delay,  which  only  showed  the  extreme  in» 
disposition  of  the  court  to  grant  what  they 
had  no  means  of  ultimately  refusing ;  nor 
had  public  opinion  yet  been  agitated  by  the 
bold  discussions  of  a  thousand  pamphlet- 
eers, who,  under  pretence  of  enlightening 
the  people,  prepossessed  their  minds  with 
the  most  extreme  ideas  of  the  populaw  char- 
acter of  the  representation  of  the  Tiera 
Etat,  and  its  superiority  over  every  other 
power  of  the  state.  Ambitious  and  unscru- 
pulous men  would  then  hardly  have  had  the 
'  time  or  boldness  to  form  those  audacious 
pretensions  which  their  ancestors  dreamed 
not  of,  and  which  the  course  of  six  or  seven 
years  of  protracted  expectation,  and  suc- 
cessive renewals  of  hope,  succeeded  by 
disappointment,  enabled  them  to  mature. 

Such  a  fatal  interval,  however,  was  suf- 
fered to  intervene,  between  the  first  idea 
of  convoking  the  States-General,  and  the 
period  when  thit  measure  became  inevita- 
ble. Without  this  delay,  the  King,  invest- 
ed with  all  his  royal  prerogatives,  and  at 
the  head  of  the  military  force,  might  have 
surrendered  with  a  good  grace  such  parta 
of  his  power  as  were  inconsistent  with  the 
liberal  opinions  of  the  time,  and  such  sur- 
render must  have  been  received  as  a  grace, 
since  it  could  not  have  been  exacted  as  & 
sacrifice.  The  conduct  of  the  government, 
in  the  interim,  towards  the  nation  whose 
representatives  it  was  shortly  to  meet,  re- 
sembled that  of  an  insane  person,  who 
should  by  a  hundred  teazing  and  vexatious 
insults  irritate  into  frenzy  the  lion,  whose 
cage  he  was  about  to  open,  and  to  whose 
fury  he  must  necessarily  be  exposed. 

Necker,  whose  undoubted  honesty,  as 
well  as  his  republican  candour,  had  render- 
ed him  highly  popular,  had,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  old  intriguer  Maurepas,  been 
dismissed  from  his  ofiice  as  Minister  of  Fi- 
nance, in  1781.  The  witty,  versatile,  self- 
ish, and  cunning  Maurepas  had  the  art  to 
hold  his  power  till  the  last  moment  of  his 
long  life,  and  died  at  the  moment  when  the 
knell  of  death  was  a  summons  to  call  him 
from  impending  ruin.  He  made,  according 
to  an  expressive  northern  proverb,  the  ■'  day 
and  way  alike  long  ;"  and  died  just  about 
the  period  wlion  the  system  of  evasion  and 
palliation,    of    usurious  loans   and  lavish 


42 


LIFE  OF  JJAPOLEOI^  BUONAPARTE. 


IChap.  UL 


bounties,  could  scarce  have  servea  longer 
V>  save  him  from  disgrace.  Ver^ennes, 
who  succeeded  him,  was,  like  himself,  a 
courtier  rather  than  a  statesman  ;  more  stu- 
dious to  preserve  his  own  power,  by  con- 
tinuing the  same  system  of  partial  expedi- 
ents and  temporary  shifts,  tnan  willing  to 
hazard  the  King's  favour,  or  the  popularity 
of  his  administration,  by  attempting  any 
■cheme  of  permanent  utility  or  general  re- 
formation. Calonne,  the  Minister  of  Fi- 
nance, who  had  succeeded  to  that  office 
after  the  brief  administrations  of  Fleury  and 
d'Ormesson,  called  on  by  his  duty  to  the 
Doost  difficult  and  embarrassing  branch  of 
government,  was  possessed  of  a  more  com- 
prehensive genius,  and  more  determined 
courage,  than  his  principal  Vergennes.  So 
early  as  the  year  1784,  the  deficiency  be- 
twixt the  receipts  of  the  whole  revenues  of 
the  state,  and  the  expenditure,  extended  to 
•is  hundred  and  eighty-four  millions  of  li- 
tres, in  British  money  about  equal  to  twen- 
ty-eight millions  four  hundred  thousand 
pounds  sterling  ;  but  then  a  certain  large 
portion  of  this  debt  consisted  in  annuities 
granted  by  government,  which  were  annu- 
ally in  the  train  of  being  extinguished  by 
the  death  of  the  holders  ;  and  there  was 
ample  reom  for  saving,  in  the  mode  of  col- 
lectiag  the  various  tases.  So  that  large  as 
the  sum  of  deficit  appeared,  it  could  not 
have  been  very  formidable,  considering  the 
resources  of  so  rich  a  country  ;  but  it  was 
necessary,  that  the  pressure  of  new  burdens, 
to  be  imposed  at  this  exigence,  should  be 
equally  divided  amongst  the  orders  of  the 
state.  The  Third  Est»te,  or  Commons, 
had  been  exhausted  under  the  weight  of 
taxes,  which  fell  upon  them  alone,  and  Ca- 
lonne formed  the  bold  and  laudable  design 
of  compelling  the  Clergy  and  Nobles,  hith- 
«rto  exempted  from  taxation,  to  contribute 
their  share  to  the  revenues  of  the  state. 

This,  however,  was,  in  the  present  state 
of  the  public,  too  bold  a  scheme  to  be  car- 
ried into  execution  without  the  support  of 
•omething  resembling  a  popular  represent- 
ation. At  this  crisis,  again  might  Louis 
have  summoned  the  States-general,  with 
•ome  chance  of  uniting  their  suffrages  with 
the  wishes  of  the  Crown.  The  King  would 
have  found  himself  in  a  natural  alliance 
with  the  Commons,  in  a  plan  to  abridge 
those  immunities,  which  the  Clergy  and 
Nobles  possessed,  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
Third  Estate.  He  would  thus,  in  the  out- 
■et  at  least,  have  united  the  influence  and 
interests  of  the  Crown  with  those  of  the 
popular  party,  and  established  something 
like  a  balance  in  the  representative  body, 
in  which  the  throne  must  have  had  consid- 
«rable  weight. 

Apparently,  Calonne  and  his  principal 
Vergennes  were  afraid  to  take  this  manly 
■nd  direct  course,  as  indeed  the  ministers 
of  an  arbitrary  monarch  can  rarely  be  sup- 
posed willing  to  call  in  the  aid  of  a  boay 
of  popular  representatives.  The  ministers 
endeavoured,  therefore,  to  supply  the  want 
of  a  body  like  the  States-general,  by  sum- 
moning together  an  assembly  of  what  was 
tanaed  the  Notables,  or  principle  persons 


in  the  kingdom.  This  was  in  every  senss 
an  unadvised  measure.*  With  somethin* 
resembling  the  form  of  a  great  national 
council,  the  Notables  had  no  right  to  rep- 
resent the  nation,  neither  did  it  come  with- 
in their  province  to  pass  any  resolutioa 
whatever.  Their  post  was  merely  that  of 
an  extraordinary  body  of  counsellors,  who 
deliberated  on  any  subject  which  the  Kins 
might  submit  to  their  consideration,  ana 
were  to  express  their  opinion  in  answer  to 
the  sovereign's  interrogatories;  but  an  e»- 
sembly,  which  could  only  start  opinions 
and  debate  upon  them,  without  coming  to 
any  effective  or  potential  decision,  was  a 
fatal  resource  at  a  crisis  when  decision  wa« 
peremptorily  necessary,  and  when  all  vagus 
and  irrelevant  discussion  was,  at  a  moment 
of  national  fermentation,  to  be  cautiously 
avoided.  Above  all,  there  was  this  great 
error  in  having  recourse  to  the  Assembly 
of  the  Notables,  that,  consisting  entirely 
of  the  privileged  orders,  the  council  was 
composed  of  the  individuals  most  inimical 
to  the  equality  of  taxes,  and  most  tenacious 
of  those  very  immunities  which  were 
struck  at  by  the  scheme  of  the  Minister  of 
Finance. 

Calonne  found  himself  opposed  at  every 
point,  and  received  from  the  Notables  re- 
monstrances instead  of  support  and  counte- 
nance. That  Assembly  censuring  all  his 
plans,  and  rejecting  his  proposals,  he  was 
in  their  presence  like  a  rash  necromancer, 
who  has  been  indeed  able  to  raise  a  demon, 
but  is  unequal  to  the  task  of  guiding  him 
when  evoked.  He  was  further  weakened 
by  the  death  of  Vergennes,  and  finally 
obliged  to  resign  his  place  and  his  country, 
a  sacrifice  at  once  to  court  intrigue  ana 
popular  odium.  Had  this  able  but  rash 
minister  convoked  the  States-general  in- 
stead of  the  Notables,  he  would  have  been 
at  least  sure  of  the  support  of  the  Third 
Estate,  or  Commons ;  and,  allied  with  them, 
might  have  carried  through  so  popular  a 
scheme,  as  that  which  went  to  establish 
taxation  upon  a  just  and  equal  principle, 
affecting  the  rich  as  well  as  the  poor,  the 
proud  prelate  and  wealthy  noble,  as  well  aa 
the  industrious  cultivator  of  the  soil. 

Calonne  having  retired  to  England  from 
popular  hatred,  his  perilous  office  devolved 
upon  the  Archbishop  of  Sens,  aflenvards 
the  Cardinal  de  Lomenle,  who  was  raised 
to  the  painful  pre-eminencef  by  the  intei^ 
est  of  the  unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette, 
whose  excellent  qualities  were  connected 
with  a  spirit  of  state-intrigue  proper  to  the 
sex  in'such  elevated  situations,  which  bat 
too  frequently  thwarted  or  bore  down  the 
more  candid  intentions  of  her  husband,  and 
tended,  though  on  her  part  unwittingly,  to 
give  his  public  measures,  sometimes  adopW 
ed  on  his  own  principles,  and  sometimes 
influenced  by  her  intrigues  and  solicita- 
tions, an  appearance  of  vacillation,  and 
even  of  duplicity,   which   greatly  injured 


*  They  were  summoned  on  29th  Decem- 
ber, 1786,  and  met  on  22d  February  of  th« 
subsequent  year. 

tMay,  1787. 


dtap.  in.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


43 


them  both  in  the  public  opinion.  The  new 
minister  finding  it  as  difficult  to  deal  with 
the  Assembly  of  Notables  as  his  predeces- 
•or,  the  King  finally  dissolved  that  body, 
"without  having  received  from  them  either 
the  countenance  or  good  counsel  which 
had  been  expected,  thus  realizing  the  opin- 
ion expressed  by  Voltaire  concerning  such 
convocations  : 

"  De  tous  ccs  Etats  I'efiet  le  plus  commun, 
Eatde  voir  tousnos  maux,  sans  en  soulager 


After  dismission  of  the  Notables,  the 
minister  adopted  or  recommended  a  line  of 
conduct  so  fluctuating  and  indecisive,  so 
violent  at  one  time  in  support  of  the  royal 
prerogative,  and  so  pusillanimous  when  he 
encountered  resistance  from  the  newly- 
awakened  spirit  of  liberty,  that  had  he  been 
bribed  to  render  the  Crown  at  once  odious 
and  contemptible,  or  to  engage  his  master 
in  a  line  of  conduct  which  should  irritate 
the  courageous,  and  encourage  the  timid, 
among  his  dissatisfied  subjects,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Sens  could  hardly,  after  the  deep- 
est thought,  have  adopted  measures  better 
adapted  fcr  such  a  purpose.  As  if  deter- 
mined to  bring  matters  to  an  issue  betwixt 
the  King  and  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  he 
laid  before  the  latter  two  new  edicts  for 
taxes,  similar  in  most  respects  to  those 
which  had  been  recommended  by  his  pred- 
ecessor Calonne  to  the  Notables.  The 
Parliament  refused  to  register  these  edicts, 
being  the  course  which  the  minister  ought 
to  have  expected.  He  then  resolved  upon 
a  display  of  the  royal  prerogative  in  its 
most  arbitrary  and  obnoxious  form.  A  Bed 
of  Justice,  as  it  was  termed,  was  held,* 
where  the  King,  presiding  in  person  over 
the  Court  of  Parliament,  commanded  the 
edicts  imposing  certain  new  taxes  to  be 
registered  in  his  own  presence  ;  thus,  by 
an  act  of  authority  emanating  directly  from 
the  sovereign,  beating  down  the  only  spe- 
cies of  opposition  which  the  subjects, 
through  any  organ  whatsoever,  could  otfer 
to  the  increase  of  taxation. 

The  Parliament  yielded  the  semblance 
of  a  momentary  obedience,  but  protested 
solemnly,  that  the  edict  having  been  regis- 
tered solely  by  the  royal  command,  and 
against  their  unanimous  opinion,  should 
not  have  the  force  of  a  law.  They  remon- 
strated also  to  the  throne  in  terms  of  great 
freedom  and  energy,  distinctly  intimating, 
that  they  could  not  and  would  not  be  the 
passive  instruments,  through  the  medium 
of  whom  the  public  was  to  be  loaded  with 
new  impositions  ;  and  they  expressed,  for 
the  first  time,  in  direct  terms,  the  proposi- 
tion, fraught  with  the  fate  of  France,  that 
neither  the  edicts  of  the  King,  nor  the  reg- 
istration of  those  edicts  by  the  Parliament, 
Were  sufficient  to  impose  p-^rmanent  bur- 
thens on  the  people  ;  but  tKat  such  taxa- 
tion was  competent  to  the  States-general 
only. 

In  punishment  of  their  undaunted  defence 


'  6th  .August,  1787. 


of  the  popular  cause,  the  Parliament  ynm 
banished  to  Troyes  ;  the  government  thua 
increasing  the  national  discontent  by  the 
removal  of  the  principal  court  of  the  king- 
dom, and  by  all  the  evils  incident  to  a  d&- 
lay  of  public  justice.  The  Provincial  Par- 
liaments supported  the  principles  adopted 
by  their  brethren  of  Paris.  The  Chamber 
of  Accounts,  and  the  Court  of  Aids,  the  ju- 
dicial establishments  next  in  rank  to  that 
of  the  Parliament,  also  remonstrated  against 
the  taxes,  and  refused  to  enforce  tbenw 
They  were  not  enforced  accordingly  ;  and 
thus,  for  the  first  time,  during  two  centuhea 
at  least,  the  royal  authority  of  France  be- 
ing brought  into  direct  colLsion  with  pat^ 
lie  opinion  and  resistance,  was,  by  the  en- 
ergy of  the  subject,  compelled  to  retro- 
grade and  yield  ground.  This  was  the  first 
direct  and  immediate  movement  of  that 
mighty  Revolution,  which  afterwards  rush- 
ed to  its  crisis  like  a  rock  rolling  down  ■ 
mountain.  This  was  the  first  torch  which 
was  actually  applied  to  the  various  com- 
bustibles which  lay  scattered  through 
France,  and  which  we  have  endeavoured  to 
analyze.  The  flame  soon  spread  into  ths 
provinces.  The  nobles  of  Brittany  broka 
out  into  a  kind  of  insurrection  ;  the  Parlia 
ment  of  Grenoble  impugned  by  a  solemn 
decree  the  legality  of  lettres  de  cachet 
Strange  and  alairming  fears, — wild  and 
boundless  hopes, — inconsistent  rumours,—t 
a  vague  expectation  of  impending  events^ 
all  contributed  to  agitate  the  public  mind. 
The  quick  and  mercurial  tempers  whick 
chiefly  distinguish  the  nation,  were  half 
maddened  with  suspense,  while  even  tha 
dull  nature  of  the  lowest  and  most  degrad- 
ed of  the  community  felt  the  coming  ii»- 
pulse  of  extraordinary  changes,  as  cattle 
are  observed  to  be  disturbed  before  an  ap- 
proaching thunder-storm. 

The  minister  could  not  sustain  his  cour- 
age in  such  a  menacing  conjuncture,  yet  un- 
happily attempted  a  show  of  resistance,  in- 
stead of  leaving  the  King  to  the  influenc* 
of  his  own  sound  sense  and  excellent  dis- 
position, which  always  induced  him  to 
choose  the  means  of  conciliation.  Them 
was  indeed  but  one  choice,  and  it  lay  be- 
twixt civil  war  or  concession.  A  despot 
would  have  adopted  the  former  course,  and, 
withdrawing  from  Paris,  would  have  gath- 
ered around  him  the  army  still  his  own.  A 
patriotic  monarch  (and  such  was  Louis 
XV'L  when  exercising  his  own  judgment) 
would  have  chosen  the  road  of  concession  j 
yet  his  steps,  even  in  retreating,  woula 
have  been  so  firm,  asdhis  attitude  so  man- 
ly, that  the  people  would  not  have  ventur- 
ed to  ascribe  to  fear  whait  flowed  solely 
from  a  spirit  of  conciliation.  But  the  con- 
duct of  the  minister,  or  of  those  who  direct- 
ed his  motions,  was  an  alternation  of  irrW 
tating  opposition  to  the  public  voice,  and 
of  ill-timed  concession  to  its  demands, 
which  implied  an  understanding  impairea 
by  the  perils  of  the  conjuncture,  and  une- 
qual alike  to  the  task  of  avoiding  them  by 
concession,  or  resisting  them  with  couragCL 
The  King,  indeed,  recalled  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris  from  their  exile,  coming,  at 


44 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  UL 


tne  same  time,  under  an  express  engage- 
ment to  convoke  the  States-general,  and 
leading  the  subjects,  of  course,  to  suppose 
that  the  new  imposts  were  to  be  left  to 
their  consideration.  But,  as  if  to  irritate 
men's  minds,  by  showing  a  desire  to  elude 
the  execution  of  what  had  been  promised, 
the  minister  ventured,  in  an  evil  hour,  to 
hazard  another  experiment  upon  the  firm- 
ness of  their  nerves,  and  again  to  commit 
the  dignity  of  the  sovereign  by  bringing 
him  personally  to  issue  a  command,  which 
experience  bad  shown  the  Parliament  were 
previously  resolved  to  disobey.  By  this 
new  proceeding,  the  King  was  induced  to 
'ihold  what  was  called  a  Royal  Sitting  of  the 
iJParliament,  which  resembled  in  all  its 
■forms  a  Bed  of  Justice,  except  that  it 
aeems  as  if  the  commands  of  the  monarch 
were  esteemed  less  authoritative  when  so 
issued,  than  when  they  were,  as  on  the  for- 
mer occasion,  deliberated  in  this  last  ob- 
noxious assembly. 

'  Thus,  at  less  advantage  than  before,  and, 
at  all  events,  after  the  total  failure  of  a 
ibnner  experiment,  the  King,  arrayed  in  all 
the  forms  of  his  royalty,  once  more,  and  for 
the  last  time,  convoked  his  Parliament  in 
person  5  and  again  with  his  own  voice  com- 
manded the  court  to  register  a  royal  edict 
for  a  loan  of  four  hundred  and  twenty  mil- 
lions of  francs,  to  be  raised  in  the  course 
of  five  years.  This  demand  gave  occasion 
to  a  debate  which  lasted  nine  hours,  and 
■was  only  closed  by  the  King  rising  up,  and 
issuing  at  length  his  positive  and  impera- 
tive orders  that  the  loan  should  be  register- 
^.  To  the  astonishment  of  the  meeting, 
"the  first  prince  of  the  blood,  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  arose,  as  if  in  reply,  and  demanded 
to  know  if  they  were  assembled  in  a  Bed 
■of  Justice  or  a  Royal  Sitting;  and  receiv- 
ing for  answer  that  the  latter  was  the 
quality  of  the  meeting,  he  entered  a  solemn 
protest  against  the  proceedings.*  Thus 
■was  the  authority  of  the  King  once  more 
brought  in  direct  opposition  to  the  assertors 
■of  the  rights  of  the  people,  as  if  on  pur- 
pose to  show,  in  the  face  of  the  whole  na- 
tion, that  its  terrors  were  only  those  of  a 
phantom,  whose  shadowy  bulk  might  over- 
awe the  timid,  but  could  offer  no  real  cause 
of  fear  when  courageously  opposed. 

The  minister  did  not,  however,  give  way 
without  such  an  ineffectual  struggle,  as  at 
once  showed  the  weakness  of  the  royal  au- 
thority, and  the  willingness  to  wield  it  with 
the  despotic  sway  of  former  times.  Two 
members  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris  were 
imprisoned  in  remote  fortressess,  and  the 
.  Duke  of  Orleans  was  sent  in  exile  to  his 
QBtat^. 

A  long  and  animated  exchange  of  remon- 
strances followed  betwixt  the  King  and  the 
Parliament,  in  which  the  former  acknow- 
ledged his  weakness,  even  by  entering  into 
the  discussion  of  his  prerogative,  as  well  as 
by  the  concessions  he  found  himself  oblig- 
ed to  tender.  Meantime,  the  Archbishop 
of  Sens  nourished  the  romantic  idea  of  get- 


•  These  memorable  events  took  place  on 
19th  November,  1787. 


ting  rid  of  these  refrac  ory  courts  entirely, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  evade  the  convoO' 
tion  of  the  States-general,  substituting  ia 
their  place  the  erection  of  a  Cour-pleniere, 
or  ancient  I'eudal  Court,  composed  of  prin- 
ces, peers,  marshals  of  France,  deputies 
from  the  provinces,  and  other  distinguished 
persons,  who  should  in  future  exercise  all 
the  higher  and  nobler  duties  of  the  Parlia- 
ments,  thus  reduced  to  their  original  and 
proper  duties  as  courts  of  justice.  But  s 
court,  or  council  of  the  ancient  feudal 
times,  with  so  slight  an  infusion  of  popular 
representation,  could  in  no  shape  have  ac- 
corded with  the  ideas  which  now  generally 
prevailed  ;  and  so  much  was  this  felt  to  be 
the  case,  that  many  of  the  peers,  and  other 
persons  nominated  members  of  the  Cour- 
plenikre,  declined  the  seats  proposed  to 
them,  and  the  whole  plan  fell  to  the 
ground. 

Meantime,  violence  succeeded  to  vio- 
lence, and  remonstrance  to  remonstrance. 
The  Parliament  of  Paris,  and  all  the  pro- 
vincial bodies  of  the  same  description,  be- 
ing suspended  from  their  functions,  and 
the  course  of  regular  justice  of  course  in- 
terrupted, the  spirit  of  revolt  became  gen- 
eral through  the  realm,  and  broke  out  in 
riots  and  insurrections  of  a  formidable  de- 
scription ;  while  at  the  same  time,  the  in- 
habitants of  the  capital  were  observed  to 
become  dreadfully  agitated. 

There  wanted  not  writers  to  fan  the  ris- 
ing discontent ;  and  what  seems  more  sin- 
gular, they  were  permitted  to  do  so  without 
interruption,  notwithstanding  the  deepened 
jealousy  with  which  free  discussion  waa 
now  regarded  in  France.  Libels  and  satires 
of  every  description  were  publicly  circu- 
lated, without  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
government  to  suppress  the  publications,  or 
to  punish  their  authors,  although  the  most 
scandalous  attacks  on  the  royal  family,  and 
on  the  queen  in  particular,  were  dispersed 
along  with  these  political  effusions.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  arm  of  power  was  para- 
lyzed, and  the  bonds  of  authority  which 
had  so  long  fettered  the  French  people 
were  falling  asunder  of  themselves ;  for 
the  liberty  of  the  press,  so  long  unknown, 
was  now  openly  assumed  and  exercised, 
without  the  government  daring  to  interfere. 
To  conclude  the  picture,  as  if  God  and 
man  had  alike  determined  the  fall  of  this 
ancient  monarchy,  a  hurricane  of  most  por- 
tentous and  unusual  character  burst  on  the 
kingdom,  and  laying  waste  the  promised 
harvest  far  and  wide,  showed  to  the  terrified 
inhabitants  the  prospect  at  once  of  poverty 
and  famine,  added  to  those  of  national 
bankruptcy  and  a  distracted  government. 

The  latter  evils  seemed  fast  advancing ; 
for  the  state  of  the  finances  became  so  ut- 
terly desperate,  that  Louis  was  under  the 
necessity  of  stopping  a  large  proportion  of 
the  treasury  payments,  and  issuing  bills  for 
the  deficiency.  At  this  awful  crisis,  fear- 
ing for  the  King,  and  more  for  himself,  the 
Archbishop  of  Sens  retired  from  adminis- 
tration,* and  left  the  monarch,  while  bank- 


25th  August,  1788.     The  Archbishop 


Chap.  IIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


45 


niptcy  and  famine  threatened  the  kingdom,  ] 
to  manage  as  he  might,  amid  the   storms 
which  the  measures  of  the  minister  himself 
had  provoked  to  the  uttermost. 

A  new  premier,  and  a  total  alteration  of 
measures,  were  to  be  restored  to,  while 
Necker,  the  popular  favourite,  called  to  the 
helm  of  the  state,  regretted,  with  bitter  an- 
ticipation of  misfortune,  the  time  which 
had  been  worse  than  wasted  under  the  rule 
of  the  Archbishop,  who  had  employed  it  in 
augmenting  the  enemies  and  diminishing 
the  resources  of  the  crown,  and  forcing  the 
King  on  such  measures  as  caused  the  royal 
authority  to  be  .generally  regarded  as  the 
common  enemy  of  all  ranks  of  the  king- 
dom. To  redeem  the  royal  pledge  by  con- 
voking the  States-general,  seemed  to  Neck- 
er the  most  fair  as  well  as  most  politic  pro- 
ceeding ;  and  indeed  this  afforded  the  only 
chance  of  once  more  reconciling  the  prince 
with  the  people,  though  it  was  now  yielding 
hat  to  a  demand,  which  two  years  before 
would  have  been  received  as  a  boon. 

We  have  already  observed  that  the  con- 
stitution of  this  Assembly  of  National  Rep- 
resentatives was  little  understood,  though 
the  phrase  was  in  the  mouth  of  every  one. 
It  was  to  be  the  panacea  to  the  disorders 
of  the  nation,  yet  men  knew  imperfectly 
tlic  mode  of  composing  tliis  universal  med- 
icine, or  the  manner  of  its  operation.  Or 
rither,  the  people  of  France  invoked  the 
a-ssistance  of  this  national  council,  as  they 
would  have  done  that  of  a  tutelary  angel, 
with  full  confidence  in  his  power  and  be- 
nevolence, though  they  neither  knew  the 
form  in  which  he  might  appear,  nor  the  na- 
ture of  the  miracles  which  he  was  to  per- 
form in  their  behalf.  It  has  been  strongly 
objected  to  Necker,  that  he  neglected,  on 
the  part  of  the  crown,  to  take  the  initia- 
tive line  of  conduct  on  this  importa»t  occa- 
sion, and  it  has  been  urged  that  it  was  the 
minister's  duty,  without  making  any  ques- 
tion, or  permitting  any  doubt,  to  assume 
that  mode  of  convening  the  States,  and 
regulating  them  when  assembled,  which 
should  best  tend  to  secure  the  tottering  in- 
fluence of  his  master.  But  Necker  proba- 
bly thought  the  time  was  past  in  which  this 
power  might  have  been  assumed  by  the 
crown  without  esciting  jealousy  or  opposi- 
tion. The  royal  authority,  he  might  recol- 
lect, had  been  of  late  yctirs  repeatedly 
strained,  until  it  had  repeatedly  given  way, 
and  the  issue,  first  of  the  Bed  of  Justice, 
and  then  of  the  Royal  Sitting,  was  sufficient 
to  show  that  words  of  authority  would  be 
wasted  in  vain  upon  disobedient  ears,  and 
might  only  excice  a  resistance  which  would 
prove  its  own  lack  of  power.  It  was,  there- 
fore, advisable  not  to  trust  to  tlie  unaided 
exercise  of  prerogative,  but  to  strengthen 
instead  the  regulations  which  miglit  be 
adopted  for  the  constitution  of  the  States- 
eeneral,  by  the  approbation  of  some  public 
Body  independent  of  the  King  and  hie  min- 
isters.     And  With  this   purpose,  Neclier 


fled  to  Italy  with  great  expedition  after  he 
bad  given  in  his  resignation  to  his  unfortu- 
nate soTereign.  , 


convened  a  second  meeting  of  the  Nota 
bles,*  and  laid  before  them,  for  their  con- 
sideration, his  plan  for  the  constitution  of 
the  States-general. 

There  were  two  great  points  submitted 
to  this  body,  concerning  the  constitution  of 
the  States-general.  I.  In  what  proportion 
the  deputies  of  the  Three  Estates  should  be 
represented  ?  II.  Whether,  when  assem- 
bled, the  Nobles,  Clergy,  and  Third  Estate, 
or  Commons,  should  act  separately  as  dis- 
tinct chambers,  or  sit  and  vote  as  one  unit- 
ed body  ? 

Necker,  a  minister  of  an  honest  and  can- 
did disposition,  a  republican  also,  and  there- 
fore on  principle  a  respecter  of  public  opin- 
ion, unhappily  did  not  recollect,  that  to  be 
well-formed  and  accurate,  public  opinion 
should  be  founded  on  the  authority  of  men 
of  talents  and  integrity  ;  and  that  the  popu- 
lar mind  must  be  pre-occupied  by  argument* 
of  a  sound  and  virtuous  tendency,  else  the 
enemy  will  sow  tares,  and  the  public  will  re- 
ceive it  in  the  absence  of  more  wholesome 
grain.  Perhaps,  also,  this  minister  found 
himself  less  in  his  element  when  treating 
of  state  affairs,  than  while  acting  in  hia 
proper  capacity  as  a  financier.  However 
that  may  be,  Necker's  conduct  resembled 
that  of  an  unresolved  general,  who  directs 
his  movements  by  the  report  of  a  council  of 
war.  He  did  not  sufficiently  perceive  the 
necessity  that  the  measures  to  be  taken 
should  originate  with  himself  rather  than 
arise  from  the  suggestion  of  others,  and  did 
not,  therefore,  avail  himself  of  his  situation 
and  high  popularity,  to  recommend  BiiQh 
general  preliminary  arrangements  as  might 
preserve  the  influence  of  the  crown  in  the 
States-general,  without  encroaching  on  the 
rights  of  the  subject.  The  silence  of  Neck- 
er leaving  all  in  doubt,  and  open  to  di8CU»- 
sion,  those  arguments  had  most  weight  with 
the  public  which  ascribed  most  importance 
to  the  Third  Estate.  The  talents  of  the 
Nobles  and  Clergy  might  be  considered  as 
having  been  already  in  vain  appealed  to  in 
the  two  sessions  of  the  Notables,  an  assem- 
bly composed  chiefly  out  of  the  privileged 
classes,  and  whose  advice  and  opinion  had 
been  given  without  producing  any  corres- 
ponding good  effect.  The  Parliament  had 
declared  themselves  incompetent  to  the 
measures  necessary  for  the  exigencies  ot 
the  kingdom.  The  course  adopted  by  the 
King  indicated  doubt  and  uncertainty,  if 
not  incapacity.  The  Tiers  Etat,  therefore, 
was  the  body  of  counsellors  to  whom  the 
nation  looked  at  this  critical  juncture. 

"  What  is  the  Tiers  Etat '!"  formed  the 
title  of  a  pamphlet  by  the  Abbe  Sieyes  ;  and 
the  answer  returned  by  the  author  was  such 
as  augmented  all  the  magnificent  ideas  al- 
ready floating  in  men's  minds  concerning 
the  importance  of  this  order.  "  The  Tiers 
Etat,"  said  he,  "  comprehends  the  whole 
nation  of  France,  excepting  only  the  Nobles 
and  Clergy."'  This  view  of  the  matter  was 
so  far  successful,  that  the  Notables  recom- 
meudea  tliat  the  Commons,  or  Third  Estate, 
should  have  a  body  of  representatives  equal 

»  November,  1788. 


46 


UFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Ckap.  IV. 


to  those  of  the  Nobles  and  the  Clergy  unit- 
ed, and  should  thus  form  in  point  of  relative 
numbers  the  moiety  of  the  whole  delegates. 

This,  however,  would  have  been  com- 
paratively of  small  importance,  had  it  been 
determined  that  the  Three  Estates  were  to 
•it,  deliberate,  and  vote,  not  as  an  united 
boor,  but  in  three  several  chambers. 

Necker  conceded  to  the  Tiers  Etat  the 
right  of  double  representations,  but  seemed 
prepared  to  maintain  the  ancient  order  of 
debating  and  voting  by  separate  chambers. 
The  crown  had  been  already  worsted  by 
the  rising  spirit  of  the  country  in  every  at- 
tempt which  it  had  made  to  stand  through 
ita  own  unassisted  strength  ;  and  torn  as 
the  bodies  of  the  clerpry  and  nobles  were  by 
internal  dissensions,  and  weakened  by  the 
degree  of  popular  odium  with  which  they 
were  loaded,  it  would  liave  required  an  art- 
ful consolidation  of  their  force,  and  an  in- 
timate union  betwixt  them  and  the  crown, 
to  maintain  a  balance  against  the  popular 
alaims  of  the  Commons,  likely  to  be  at 
once  so  boldly  urged  by  themselves,  and  so 
farourably  viewed  by  the  nation.  All  this 
was,  however,  left,  in  a  great  measure,  to 
accident,  while  every  chance  was  against 
its  being  arranged  in  the  way  most  advan- 
tageous to  the  monarchy. 

The  minister  ought  in  policy  to  have 
paved  the  way,  for  securing  a  party  in  the 
Third  Estate  itself,  whicii  should  bear  some 
character  of  royaliam.  This  might  doubt- 
less have  been  done  by  the  usual  ministe- 
rial arts  of  influencing  elections,  or  gaining 
over  to  the  crown-interests  some  of  the  ma- 
ny men  of  talents,  who,  determined  to  raise 
themselves  in  this  new  world,  had  not  yet 
■ettled  to  which  side  they  were  to  give  their 
■upport.  But  Necker,  less  acquainted  with 
men  than  with  mathematics,  imagined  that 
every  member  had  intelligence  enough  to 
•ee  "the  measures  best  calculated  for  the 
public  good,  and  virtue  enougli  to  follow 
them  faithfully  and  exclusively.  It  was  in 
Tain  that  the  Marquis  de  Bouille  pointed 
eut  the  dangers  arising  from  the  constitu- 
tion assigned  to  the  States-general,  and  in- 
sisted that  the  minister  was  arming  the  pop- 


ular part  of  the  nation  against  the  two  prirl. 
leged  orders,  and  that  the  latter  would  soon 
experience  the  effects  of  their  hatred,  ani- 
mated by  self-interest  and  vanity,  the  most 
active  passions  of  mankind.  Necker  calm- 
ly replied,  that  there  was  a  necessary  reli- 
ance to  be  placed  on  the  virtues  of  the  ho- 
man  heart ; — the  ma.tim  of  a  worthy  man, 
but  not  of  an  enlightened  statesman,*  who 
has  but  too  much  reason  to  know  how  often 
both  the  virtues  and  the  prudence  of  hu- 
man nature  are  surmounted  by  its  prejudi- 
ces and  passions. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  doubt  and  total 
want  of  preparation,  that  the  king  was  to 
meet  the  representatives  of  the  people, 
whose  elections  had  been  trusted  entirely 
to  chance,  without  even  an  attempt  to  in- 
fluence them  in  favour  of  the  most  eligible 
persons.  Yet  surely  the  Crown,  hitherto 
almost  the  sole  acknowledged  autliority  in 
France,  should  have  been  provided  with 
supporters  in  the  new  authority  which  waa 
to  be  assembled.  At  least  the  minister 
might  have  been  prepared  with  some  sys- 
tem or  plan  of  proceeding,  upon  wliich  this 
most  important  convention  was  to  conduct 
its  deliberations  ;  but  there  was  not  even 
an  attempt  to  take  up  the  reins  which 
were  floating  on  the  necks  of  those  who 
were  for  the  first  time  harnessed  to  the  char- 
iot of  the  State.  All  was  expectation,  mero 
vague  and  unauthorized  hope,  that  in  thi» 
multitude  of  counsellors  there  would  bo 
found  safety.! 

Hitherto  we  have  described  the  silent 
and  smooth,  but  swift  and  powerful  stream 
of  innovation,  as  it  rolled  on  to  the  edge  of 
the  sheer  precipice.  We  are  now  to  view 
the  precipitate  tumult  and  terrors  of  the 
cataract. 

*  See  Memoires  de  Bouilli.  Madame  de  Stael 
herself  admits  this  deficiency  in  tlie  character  of 
a  father,  of  whom  she  was  justly  proud. — "  S» 
fiaiit  trop,  ilfautl'avouer,  i  I'empire  de  l:i  raison." 
— CoriJiiderations  siir  la  Revolution,  vol.  I.  p.  17]. 

t  A  calembourg  of  the  period  presaged  a  differ- 
ent result. — "  So  numerous  a  concourse  of  Btat»- 
pliysicians  assembled  to  consult  for  the  weal  of 
the  nation,  argued,"  it  was  saidj  "  the  immirMiit 
danger  and  approaching  death  ol  the  patient." 


CHAP.  IV. 


JUeehne;  of  the  States-General.  Predominant  Influence  of  the  Tiers  Etat — Property 
twt  represented  svffi,cienlly  in  that  Body — General  Character  of  the  Members. — Dii- 
position  of  the  Estate  of  the  Nobles — And  of  the  Clerj^y. — Plan  of  forming  the  Three 
Estates  into  Two  Houses — Its  Advantages — Jt  fails. —  The  Clergy  unite  with  the 
TSers  Etat,  which  assumes  the  Title  of  the  National  As-fembiy. —  They  a.'isume  the 
Task  of  Legislation,  and  declare  all  former  Fiscal  Regnlalions  illegal. —  They  assert 
their  Determination  to  continue  their  Sessioni. — Royal  Sitting — Terminates  in  ttu 
Trivmph  of  the  Assembly. — Parties  in  that  Body — Mounicr — Constitutionalists — R*- 
puldicans — Jacobins — Orleans. 

Thk  Estates-ireneral  of  France  met  at  Ver-  |  about  to  become  presently  ?— Something."' 
•ailles  on  the  6th  May,  17S9,  and  that  wfs  I  Had  the   last  answer  been   Everything,  it 


indisnutably  the  first  day  of  the  Revoluti 
The  Abb(^  Sieves,  in  a  pamphlet  which  we 
fcave  mentioned,  had  already  asked.  "  What 
wa."  the  Third  Estate  ?— It  was  the  whole 
nation.  What  had  it  been  liitherto  in  a 
political    light? — Nothing.    What   was  it 


wr)uld  have  hern  nearer  the  truth,  for  it 
soon  appeared  that  this  Third  Estate,  which 
in  t!)e  year  \G\i-,  the  Nobles  had  refused  to 
acknowledge  even  as  a  younger  brother* 

*  The  Baron  de  SenDeci.wheo  the  £t. 


Chap.  IV.\ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


47 


of  their  order,  was  now,  like  the  rod  of  the 
prophet,  to  swallow  up  all  those  who  affect- 
ed to  share  its  power.  Even  amid  the  pa- 
geantry with  which  the  ceremonial  of  the 
first  sitting  abounded,  it  was  clearly  visible 
that  the  wishes,  hopes,  and  interest  of  the 
public,  were  exclusively  fixed  upon  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  Commons.  The  rich 
garments  and  floating  plumes  of  the  nobil- 
ity, and  the  reverend  robes  of  the  clergy, 
had  nothing  to  fix  the  public  eye  ;  their 
Bounding  and  emphatic  titles  had  nothing  to 
win  the  ear ;  the  recollection  of  the  high 
feats  of  the  one,  and  long  sanctified  charac- 
ters of  the  other  order,  had  nothing  to  in- 
fluence the  mind  of  the  spectators.  All 
eyes  were  turned  on  the  members  of  the 
Third  Estate,  in  a  plebeian  and  humble  cos- 
tume, corresponding  to  their  lowly  birth 
and  occupation,  as  the  only  portion  of  the 
assembly  from  whom  they  looked  for  the 
lights  and  the  counsels  which  the  time  de- 
manded. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  assert,  that  the  bo- 
dy which  thus  engrossed  the  national  atten- 
tion was  devoid  of  talents  to  deserve  it. 
On  the  contrary,  the  Tiers  Etat  contained  a 
lau-ge  proportion  of  the  learning,  the  intelli- 
gence, and  the  eloquence  of  the  kingdom  ; 
but  unhappily  it  was  composed  of  men  of 
theory  rather  than  of  practice,  men  more 
prepared  to  change  than  to  preserve  or  re- 

riair  ;  and,  above  all,  of  men,  who,  general- 
j  speaking,  were  not  directly  concerned  in 
the  preservation  of  peace  and  order,  by  pos- 
•essing  a  larger  property  in  the  country. 

The  due  proportion  in  which  talents  and 
property  are  represented  in  the  British 
House  of  Commons,  is  perhaps  the  best  as- 
•urance  forthe  stability  of  the  constitution. 
Men  of  talents,  bold,  onterprizing,  eager  for 
distinction,  and  ambitious  of  power,  sulFer 
no  opportunity  to  escape  of  recommending 
«uch  measures  as  may  improve  the  general 
•ystem,  and  raise  to  distinction  those  by 
whom  they  are  proposed  ;  while  men  of 
substance,  desirous  of  preserving  the  prop- 
erty which  they  possess,  are  scrupulous  in 
■crutinizing  every  new  measure,  and  stead v 
in  rejecting  such  as  are  not  accompanied 
with  the  most  certain  prospect  of  advantage 
to  the  state.  Talent,  eager  and  active,  de- 
sires the  means  of  employment ;  Property, 
cautious,  doubtful,  jealous  of  innovation. 
acts  as  a  regulator  rather  than  an  impulse 
on  the  machine,  by  preventing  its  moving 
either  too  rapidly,  or  changing  too  sudden- 
ly. The  over-caution  of  those  by  whom 
property  is  represented,  miy  sometimes, 
indeed,  delay  aprojectr-d  improvement,  but 
much  more  frequently  impedes  a  rash  an  ! 
hazardous  experiment.  Looking  back  on 
the  parliamentary  history  of  two  centuries, 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  much  practical  wis- 
dom has  been  derived  from  the  influence 


tates  of  the  Kingdom  were  compared  to 
three  brethien  of  which  the  Tiers  Etat  wxs 
youngest,  declared  that  the  Commons  of 
France  had  no  title  to  arrogate  such  a  rela- 
tionship with  the  Nobles,  to  whom  they 
were  so  far  inferior  in  blood,  and  in  estima- 
tion. 


exercised  by  those  members  called  Coun- 
try Gentlemen,  who,  unambitious  of  distin- 
guishing themselves  by  their  eloquence, 
and  undesirous  of  mingling  in  the  ordinary 
debates  of  the  house,  make  their  sound  and 
unsophisticated  good  sense  heard  and  un- 
derstood upon  every  crisis  of  importance, 
in  a  manner  alike  respected  by  the  minis- 
try and  the  opposition  of  the  day,— by  th« 
professed  statesmen  of  the  house,  whose 
daily  business  is  legislation,  and  whose 
thoughts,  in  some  instances,  are  devoted  to 
public  affairs,  because  they  have  none  of 
their  own  much  worth  looking  after.  In 
this  great  and  most  important  characterifr. 
tic  of  representation,  the  Tiers  Etat  of 
Erance  was  necessarily  deficient ;  in  fact, 
the  part  of  the  French  constitution,  which, 
without  exactly  corresponding  to  the  cour- 
try  gentlemen  of  England,  most  nearly  re- 
sembled them,  was  a  proportion  of  the  Ru- 
ral Noblesse  of  France,  who  were  repre- 
sented amongst  the  Estate  of  the  Nobility. 
.\n  edict,  detaching  these  rural  proprietors, 
and  perhaps  the  inferior  clerg}',  from  their 
proper  orders,  and  including  their  represen- 
tatives in  that  of  the  Tiers  Etat,  would  have 
infused  into  the  latter  assembly  a  propor- 
tional regard  for  the  rights  of  landholders, 
whether  lay  or  clerical ;  and  as  they  must 
have  had  a  voice  in  those  anatomical  exper- 
iments, of  which  their  property  was  about 
to  become  the  subject,  it  may  be  supposed 
they  would  have  resisted  the  application  of 
the  scalpel,  excepting  when  it  was  unavoid- 
ably necessary.  Instead  of  which,  both  the 
noblns  and  clergy  came  soon  to  be  placed 
on  the  anatomical  table  at  the  mercy  of 
each  state-quack,  who,  having  no  interest 
in  their  sufferings,  thought  them  excellent 
subjects  on  which  to  exemplify  some  fa- 
vourite hypothesis. 

While  owners  of  extensive  landed  prop- 
erty were  in  a  great  measure  excluded  from 
the  representation  of  the  Third  Estate,  its 
ranks  were  filled  from  those  classes  whick 
seek  novelties  in  theory,  and  which  are  in 
the  habit  of  profiting  by  them  in  practice. 
There  were  professed  men  of  letters  called 
thither,  as  they  hoped  and  expected,  to  re- 
alize thooric",  for  the  greater  part  incon- 
sistent with  the  present  state  of  things,  in 
which,  to  use  one  of  their  own  choicest 
common-places, — "  Mind  had  not  yet  ac- 
quired its  due  rank."  There  were  many 
of  the  inferior  ranks  of  the  law  ;  for,  un- 
happily, in  this  profession  also  the  graver 
and  more  enlightened  members  were  call- 
ed by  their  rank  to  the  Estate  of  the  No- 
blesse. To  these  were  united  churchmen 
without  livings,  and  physicians  without  pa- 
tients ;  men.  whose  education  generally 
makes  them  important  in  the  humble  soci- 
ety in  which  they  move,  and  who  are  pro- 
portionally presumptuous  and  conceited  of 
their  own  powers,  when  advanced  into  that 
which  is  supnrior  to  their  usual  walk. 
There  were  many  bankers  alsO  speculator* 
in  politics,  as  in  their  natural  employment 
of  stock-jobbing  ;  and  there  wore  intermin- 
gled with  the  classes  w:>  have  noticed  some 
individual  nobles,  expelled  from  their  own 
ranks  for  want  of  character,  who,  like  tba 


48 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  IV. 


dissolute  Mirabeau,  a  moral  monster  for 
talents  and  want  of  principle,  menaced, 
(rom  the  station  which  they  had  assumed, 
the  rights  of  the  class  from  which  they  had 
been  expelled,  and,  like  deserters  of  every 
kind,  were  willing  to  guide  the  foes  to 
whom  they  hadfied,  into  the  intrenchments 
of  the  friends  whom  they  had  forsaken,  or 
bj  whom  they  had  been  exiled.  There 
were  also  mixed  with  these  perilous  ele- 
ments many  individuals,  not  only  endowed 
with  talents  and  integrity,  but  possessing  a 
respectable  proportion  of  sound  sense  and 
judgment ;  but  who  unfortunately  aided 
less  to  counteract  the  revolutionary  tend- 
ency, than  to  justify  it  by  argument  or  dig- 
nify it  by  example.  From  the  very  begin- 
ning, the  Tiers  Etat  evinced  a  determined 
purpose  to  annihilate  in  consequence,  if 
not  in  rank,  the  other  two  orders  of  the 
state,  and  to  engross  the  whole  power  into 
their  own  hands. 

It  must  be  allowed  to  the  Commons,  that 
the  Noblesse  had  possessed  themselves  of 
a  paramount  superiority  over  the  middle 
class,  totally  inconsistent  with  the  just  de- 
gree of  consideration  due  to  their  fellow- 
subjects,  and  irreconcilable  with  the  spirit 
of  enlightened  times.  They  enjoyed  many 
privileges  which  were  humiliating  to  the 
rest  of  the  nation,  and  others  that  were 
grossly  unjust,  amont;  which  must  be 
reckoned  their  immunities  from  taxation. 
Assembled  as  an  Estate  of  the  Kingdom, 
they  felt  the  eaprit-de-corps,  and,  attached 
to  the  privileges  of  their  order,  showed  lit- 
tle readiness  to  make  the  sacrifices  which 
tlie  times  demanded,  thougli  at  the  risk  of 
having  what  they  refused  to  grant,  forcibly 
wrested  from  them.  They  were  publicly 
and  imprudently  tenacious,  wiien,  both  on 
principle  and  in  policy,  they  should  have 
been  compliant  and  accommodating — for 
tlieir  own  sake,  as  well  as  that  of  the  sove- 
reign. Yet  let  us  be  just  to  that  gallant 
aiid  unfortunate  body  of  men.  They  pos- 
•essed  the  courage,  if  not  the  skill  or 
■trength  of  their  ancestors,  and  while  we 
blame  the  violence  with  which  they  clung 
to  useless  and  antiquated  privileges,  let 
Bit  remember  that  these  were  a  part  of 
tiieir  inheritance,  which  no  man  renounc- 
oo  willingly,  and  no  man  of  spirit  yields  up 
to  threats.  If  they  erred  in  not  adopting 
from  the  beginning  a  spirit  of  conciliation 
and  concession,  no  body  of  men  ever  suf- 
fered so  cruelly  for  hesitating  to  obey  a 
•u.'nnions,  which  called  them  to  acts  of 
•uch  unusual  self-denial. 

The  Clergy  were  no  less  tenacious  of  the 
privileges  of  the  church,  tlian  the  Noblesse 
of  their  peculiar  feudal  immunities.  It  had 
been  already  plainly  intimated,  that  the 
property  of  the  clerical  orders  ought  to  be 
•ubject,  as  well  a.s  all  other  species  of 
property,  to  the  exigencies  of  the  state  ; 
and  the  philosophical  opinions  which  had 
impugned  their  principles  of  faith,  and  rcn- 
d<yed  their  persons  ridiculous  instead  of 
reverend,  would,  it  was  to  lie  feared,  induce 
those  by  whom  they  were  entertained,  to 
•xtead  their  views  to  a  general  seizure  of 


the  whole,  instead  of  a  part,  of  the  church's 
wealth. 

Both  the  first  and  second  Estates,  there- 
fore, kept  aloof,  moved  by  the  manner  in 
which  the  private  interests  of  each  stood 
committed,  and  both  endeavoured  to  avert 
the  coming  storm,  by  retarding  the  deliber- 
ations of  the  States-general,  They  were 
particularly  desirous  to  secure  their  indi- 
vidual importance  as  distinct  orders,  and 
appealed  to  ancient  practice  and  the  usage 
of  the  year  1G14,  by  which  the  three  sev- 
eral Estates  sat  and  voted  in  three  several 
bodies.  But  the  Tiers  Etat,  who,  from  the 
beginning,  felt  their  own  strength,  were  de- 
termined to  choose  that  mode  of  procedure 
by  which  their  force  should  be  augmented 
and  consolidated.  The  double  representa- 
tion had  rendered  them  equal  in  numbeia 
to  both  the  other  bodies,  and  as  they  were 
sure  of  some  interest  among  the  inferior 
Noblesse,  and  a  very  considerable  party 
amongst  the  lower  Clergy,  the  assistance 
of  these  two  minorities,  added  to  their  own 
numbers,  must  necessarily  give  them  the 
superiority  in  every  vote,  providing  the 
three  chambers  could  be  united  into  one. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Clergy  and  No- 
bles saw  that  an  union  of  this  nature  would 
place  all  their  privileges  and  property  at 
the  mercy  of  the  Commons,  whom  the 
union  of  the  chambers  in  one  assembly 
would  invest  with  an  overwhelming  major- 
ity in  that  convocation.  They  had  no  rea- 
son to  expect  that  this  power,  if  once  ac- 
quired, would  be  used  with  moderation,  for 
not  only  had  their  actually  obnoxious  priv- 
ileges been  assailed  by  every  battery  of 
reason  and  of  ridicule,  but  the  records  of 
former  ages  had  been  ransacked  for  ridicn- 
lous  absurdities  and  detestable  cruelties  of 
the  possessors  of  feudsJ  power,  all  which 
were  imputed  to  the  present  privileged 
classes,  and  mingled  with  njany  fictions  of 
unutterable  horror,  devised  on  purpose  to 
give  a  yet  darker  colouring  to  the  system 
which  it  was  their  object  to  destroy,*  Ev- 
ery motive,  therefore,  of  self-interest  and 
self-preservation,  induced  the  two  first 
chambers,  aware  of  the  possession  which 
the  third  had  obtained  over  the  public 
mind,  to  maintain,  if  possible,  the  specific 
individuality  of  their  separate  classes,  and 
'vee  the  right  hitherto  supposed  to  be  vest- 
ed in  theni,  of  protecting  their  own  inter- 
ests by  their  own  separate  votes,  as  distinct 
bodies. 

Others,  with  a  deeper  view,  and  on  lesa 
selfish  reasoning,  saw  much  hazard  in  amal- 
gamating the  whole  force  of  the  state,  sav- 
.ng  that  which  remained  in  the  Crown,  in- 
to one  powerful  body,  subject  to  all  the 
hasty  impulses  to  which  popular  assemblies 
lie  crposcd,  as  Lakes  to  the  wind,  and  in 
placing  the  person  and  authority  of  the 
king  in  solitary  and  diametrical  opposition 


*  It  wa'!,  for  example,  gravely  slated,  that  a 
s.'-i'jneur  of  a  certain  province  possessed  a  feudal 
right  to  put  two  of  h'n  vassals  to  death  upon  his 
return  from  hunting,  and  lo  rip  their  belliea  open, 
and  plunge  hu  feet  into  their  «atratls  to  warm 
them  t 


Chap.  IV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


49 


to  what  must  necessarily,  in  moments  of 
enthusiasm,  appear  to  be  the  will  of  the 
whole  people.  Such  statesmen  would  have 
preferred  retaining  an  intermediate  check 
upon  the  popular  counsels  of  the  Tiers 
Etat  by  the  other  two  chambers,  which 
might,  as  in  England,  have  been  united  in- 
to one,  and  would  have  presented  an  im- 
posing front,  both  in  point  of  wealth  and 
property,  and  through  the  respect  which, 
excepting  under  the  influence  of  popular 
emotion,  the  people,  in  spite  of  themselves, 
cannot  help  entertaining  for  birth  and  rank. 
Such  a  body,  providing  the  stormy  temper 
of  the  times  had  admitted  of  its  foundations 
being  laid  sufficiently  strong,  would  have 
eerved  as  a  break-water  betwixt  the  throne 
and  the  stream-tide  of  popular  opinion  ; 
and  the  monarch  would  have  been  spared 
the  painful  and  perilous  task  of  opposing 
himself  personally,  directly,  and  without 
screen  or  protection  of  any  kind,  to  the 
democratical  part  of  the  constitution. 
Above  all,  by  means  of  such  an  Upper 
House,  time  would  have  been  obtained  for 
reviewing  more  coolly  those  measures, 
w'hich  might  have  passed  hastily  through 
the  assembly  of  Popular  Representatives. 
It  is  observed  in  the  history  of  innovation, 
that  the  indirect  and  unforeseen  conse- 
quences of  every  great  change  of  an  esiat- 
ing  system,  arc  more  numerous  and  exten- 
sive than  those  which  had  been  foreseen 
and  calculated  upon,  whether  by  those  who 
advocated,  or  those  who  opposed  the  alter- 
ation. The  advantages  of  a  constitution, 
in  which  each  measure  of  legislation  must 
necessarily  be  twice  deliberately  argued  by 
separate  senates,  acting  under  diflerent  im- 
pressions, and  interposing,  at  the  same 
time,  a  salutary  delay,  during  which  heats 
may  subside,  and  erroneous  views  be  cor- 
rected, requires  no  farther  illustration. 

It  must  be  owned,  nevertheless,  that 
there  existed  the  greatest  difficulty  in  any 
attempt  which  might  have  been  made,  to 
give  weight  to  the  Nobles  as  a  separate 
chamber.  The  community  at  large  looked 
to  reforms  deeply  affecting  the  immunities 
^  the  privileged  classes,  as  the  mo^t  obvi- 
■as  means  for  the  regeneration  of  the  king- 
dom at  large,  and  must  have  seen  with 
jealousy  an  institution  like  an  Upper  House, 
which  placed  the  parties  who  were  princi- 
pally to  suffer  these  changes  in  a  condition 
to  impede,  or  altogether  prevent  them.  It 
was  naturally  to  be  expected,  that  the  Cler- 
gy and  Nobles,  united  in  an  Upper  House, 
must  have  become  somewhat  partial  judges 
In  the  question  of  retrenching  and  limiting 
their  own  exclusive  privileges ;  and,  be- 
sides the  ill-will  which  the  Commons  bore 
them  as  the  possessors  and  assertors  of 
rights  infringing  on  the  liberties  of  the  peo- 
ple, it  might  be  justly  apprehended  that,  if 
the  scourge  destined  for  them  were  placed 
in  their  own  hand,  they  might  use  it  with 
the  chary  moderation  of  the  squire  in  the 
romance  of  Cervantes.  There  would  also 
have  been  reason  t  j  doubt  that,  when  the 
nation  was  so  much  divided  by  factions, 
two  Houses,  so  ditferent  in  character  and 
composition,  could  hardly  have  been 
Vol.  I  C 


brought  to  act  with  firmness  and  liberality 
towards  each  other — that  the  one  would 
have  bee  i  ever  scheming  for  the  recovery 
of  their  full  privileges,  supposing  they  had 
been  obliged  to  surrender  a  part  of  them, 
while  the  other  would  still  look  forward  to 
the  accomplishment  of  an  entirely  demo- 
cratical revolution.  In  this  way,  the  checks 
which  ought  to  have  acted  merely  to  re- 
strain the  violence  of  either  party,  might 
operate  as  the  means  of  oversetting  the 
constitution  which  they  were  intended  to 
preserve. 

Still,  it  must  be  observed,  that  while  the 
King  retained  any  portion  of  authority,  he 
might,  v.-ith  the  countenance  of  the  suppos- 
ed Upper  Chamber,  or  Senate,  have  balanc- 
ed the  progress  of  democracy.  Difficult  as 
the  task  might  be,  an  attempt  towards  it 
ought  to  have  been  made.  But,  unhappily, 
the  King's  ear  was  successively  occupied 
by  two  sets  of  advisers,  one  of  whom  coun- 
selled him  to  surrender  every  thing  to  the 
humour  of  the  reformers  of  the  state,  while 
the  other  urged  him  to  resist  their  most 
reasonable  wishes  ; — without  considering 
that  he  had  to  deal  with  those,  who  had  tiie 
power  to  take  by  force  what  was  refused  to 
petition.  Mounier  and  Malouet  advocated 
the  establishment  of  two  chambers  in  the 
Tiers  Etat,  and  Necker  was  certainly  fa- 
vourable to  some  plan  of  the  kind;  but  the 
Noblesse  thought  it  called  apon  them  for 
too  great  a  sacrifice  of  their  privilegeB, 
though  it  promised  to  ensiue  what  remain- 
ed, while  the  democratifed  part  of  the 
Tiers  Etat  opposed  it  obstinately ,^  as  tend-- 
ing  to  arrest  the  march  of  the  revolirtioo- 
ary  impulse. 

Five  or  six  weeks  elapsed  in  useless  de- 
bates concerning  the  form  in  which  the  Es- 
tates should  vote  ;  during  which  period  the 
Tiers  Etat  showed,  by  their  boldness  and 
decision,  that  they  knew  the  advantage 
which  they  held,  and  were  sensible  that  the 
other  bodies,  if  they  meant  to  retain  th« 
influence  of  their  situation  in  any  shape, 
must  unite  with  them,  on  the  principle  ac- 
cording to  which  smaller  drops  of  water  are 
attracted  by  the  larger.  This  cam'j  to  pa'?3 
accordingly.  The  Tiers  Etat  were  joined 
by  the  whole  body  of  inferior  clergy,  and 
by  some  of  the  nobles,  and  on  17th  Jane. 
1789,  proceeded  to  constitute  thetaselves  a 
legislative  body,  exclusively  competent  is 
itself  to  the  entire  province  of  let:islation  j. 
and,  renouncing  the  name  of  the  Third  Ra- 
tate,  which  reminded  men  thov  v.ere  only 
one  out  of  three  bodies,  they  adopted  that 
of  the  National  .Assembly,  and  avowed 
themselves,  not  merely  the  third  bfanch  of 
the  representative  body,  but  the  solo  repre- 
sentatives of  the  people  of  France,  nav 
the  people  themselves,  wielding  in  person 
the  whole  gigantic  powers  of  the  rea'uD. 
They  now  claimed  the  character  of  a  coa- 
stituect  body,  no  longer  limited  to  the  task 
of  merely  requiring  a  redress  cf  grievan- 
ces, for  v/hich  they  had  been  or: finally  ap- 
pointed, but  warranted  to  destroy  aad  re- 
build whatever  they  thought  proper  la  th« 
constitution  of  the  stale.  It  is  not  easy,  on 
anj  ordioary  priaci^e,  to  see  bow  aTepr*- 


50 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  IV. 


sentation,  convoked  for  a  certain  purpose, 
and  with  certain  limited  powers,  should 
thus  essentially  alter  their  own  character, 
and  set  themselves  in  such  a  different  rela- 
tion to  the  crown  and  the  nation,  from  that 
to  which  their  commissions  restricted 
them ;  but  the  JXational  Assembly  were  well 
aware,  that,  in  extending  their  powers  far 
beyond  the  terms  of  these  commissions, 
they  only  fulfilled  the  wishes  of  their  con- 
stituents, and  that,  in  assuming  to  them- 
selves so  ample  an  authority,  they  would 
be  supported  by  the  whole  nation,  except- 
ing the  privileged  orders. 

The  National  Assembly  proceeded  to  ex- 
ercise their  power  with  the  same  audacity 
which  they  had  shown  in  assuming  it. 
They  passed  a  sweeping  decree,  by  which 
they,  declared  all  the  existing  taxes  to  be 
illegal  impositions,  the  collection  of  which 
they  sanctioned  only  for  the  present,  and 
as  an  interim  arrangement,  until  they  should 
have  time  to  establish  the  financial  regula- 
tions of  the  state  upon  an  equal  and  perma- 
nent footing. 

The  King,  acting  under  the  advice  of 
Necker,  and  fulfilling  the  promise  made  on 
his  part  by  the  Archbishop  of  Sens,  his 
former  minister,  had,  as  v/e  have  seen,  as- 
sembled the  Stales-general ;  but  he  was  not 
prepared  for  the  change  of  the  Third  Es- 
tate into  the  National  Assembly,  and  for  the 
pretensions  which  it  asserted  in  the  latter 
character.  Terrified,  and  it  was  little  won- 
der, at  the  sudden  rise  of  this  gigantic  and 
all-overshadowing  fabric,  Louis  became  in- 
clined to  listen  to  those  who  counselled 
him  to  combat  this  new  and  formidable  au- 
thority, by  opposing  to  it  the  weight  of  roy- 
al power  ;  to  be  exercised,  however,  with 
such  attention  to  the  newly-asserted  popu- 
lar opinions,  and  with  such  ample  surrender 
of  the  obnoxious  part  of  the  royal  preroga- 
tive, as  might  gratify  the  rising  spirit  of 
freedom.  For  this  purpose  a  Royal  Sitting 
was  appointed,  at  which  the  King  in  person 
was  to  meet  the  Three  Estates  of  his  king- 
donj,  and  propose  a  scheme  which,  it  was 
hoped,  might  unite  all  parties,  and  tranquil- 
lize all  minds.  The  name  and  form  of  this 
Seance  Royale  was  perhaps  not  well  chos- 
en, as  being  too  nearly  allied  to  those  of  a 
Bed  of  Justice,  in  which  the  King  was  ac- 
customed to  exercise  imperative  authority 
over  the  Parliament ;  and  the  proceeding 
was  calculated  to  awaken  recollection  of  the 
highly  unpopular  Royal  Sitting  on  the  19th 
November,  1787,  the  displacing  of  Necker, 
and  the  banishinent  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans. 

But,  as  if  this  had  not  been  suflicient.  an 
unhappy  accident,  which  almost  resembled 
a  fatality,  deranged  this  project,  destroyed 
all  the  grace  which  might,  on  the  King's 
part,  have  attended  the  measure,  and  in 
place  of  it,  threw  the  odium  upon  the  court 
of  having  indirectly  attempted  the  forcible 
dissolution  of  the  Assembly,  while  it  in- 
vested the  members  of  that  body  with  the 
)K>pular  character  of  steady  patriots,  whose 
«flion,  courage,  and  presence  of  mind,  had 
roiled  the  stroke  of  authority,  which  had 
toeen  aimed  at  their  existence. 

fbe  Hall  of  the  Commoim  was  fixed  up- 


on for  the  purposes  of  the  Royal  Sitting,  aa 
the  largest  of  the  three  which  were  occu- 
pied by  the  Three  Estates,  and  workmen 
were  employed  in  making  the  necessarr 
arrangements  and  alterations.  These  alter- 
ations were  imprudently  commenced*  be- 
fore holding  any  communication  on  the 
subject  with  the  National  Assembly  ;  and  it 
was  simply  notified  to  their  president,  Bail- 
li,  by  the  master  of  the  royal  ceremonies, 
that  the  King  had  suspended  the  meeting 
of  the  Assembly  until  the  Royal  Sitting 
should  have  taken  place.  Bailli,  the  presi- 
dent, well  known  afterwards  by  his  tragical 
fate,  refused  to  attend  to  an  order  so  inti- 
mated, and  the  members  of  Assembly,  up- 
on resorting  to  their  ordinary  place  of  meet- 
ing, found  it  full  of  workmen,  and  guarded 
by  soldiers.  This  led  to  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  scenes  of  the  Revolution. 

The  representatives  of  the  nation,  thus 
expelled  by  armed  guards  from  their  prop- 
er place  of  assemblage,  found  refuge  in  a 
common  Tennis-court,  while  a  thunder- 
storm, emblem  of  the  moral  tempest  which 
raged  on  the  earth,  poured  down  its  terrors 
from  the  heavens.  It  was  thus  that,  expos- 
ed to  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and 
with  the  wretched  accommodations  which 
such  a  place  afforded,  the  members  of  As- 
sembly took,  and  attested  by  their  respec- 
tive signatures,  a  solemn  oath,  to  continue 
their  sittings  until  the  constitution  of  the 
country  should  be  fixed  on  a  solid  basis. 
The  scene  was  of  a  kind  to  make  the  deep- 
est impression  both  on  the  actors  and  the 
spectators ;  although,  looking  back  at  the 
distance  of  so  many  years,  we  are  tempted 
to  ask  at  what  period  the  National  Assem- 
bly would  have  been  dissolved,  had  they 
adhered  literally  to  their  celebrated  oath  ? 
But  the  conduct  of  the  government  was  in 
every  respect  worthy  of  censure.  The 
probability  of  this  extraordinary  occurrence 
might  easily  have  been  foreseen.  If  mere 
want  of  consideration  gave  rise  to  it,  the 
king's  ministers  were  most  culpably  care- 
less ;  if  the  closing  of  the  hall,  and  sus- 
pending of  the  sittings  of  the  Assembly, 
was  intended  by  way  of  experiment  upon  it« 
temper  and  patience,  it  was  an  act  of  mad- 
ness, equal  to  that  of  irritating  an  already 
exasperated  lion.  Be  this,  however,  as  it 
may,  the  conduct  of  the  court  had  the 
worst  possible  effect  on  the  public  mind, 
and  prepared  them  to  view  with  dislike  and 
suspicion  all  propositions  emanating  from 
the  throne  ;  while  the  magnanimous  firm- 
ness and  unanimity  of  the  Assembly  seem- 
ed that  of  men  determined  to  undergo  mar- 
tyrdom, ratluT  than  desert  the  assertion  of 
tlicir  own  rights,  and  those  of  the  people. 

At  the  Roy;il  Sitting,  which  took  place 
three  days  after  the  vow  of  the  Tennis- 
court,  a  plan  was  proposed  by  the  King,  of- 
fering such  security  for  the  liberty  of  th» 
subject,  as  would  a  vear  before  have  been 
received  with  grateful  rapture  ;  but  it  was 
tlie  unhappy  fate  of  Louis  XVI.  neither  to 
recede  nor  advance  at  the  fortunate  ir'' 
ment.     Happy  would  it  have  been  for  Lim, 


»2(Hh  June,  1788. 


Chap  IV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


51 


for  France,  and  for  Europe,  if  the  science 
of  Astrology,  once  so  much  respected,  had 
in  reality  afforded  the  means  of  selecting 
lucky  davs.  tew  of  his  were  marked  with 
a  white  stone. 

By  the  scheme  which  he  proposed,  the 
King  renounced  the  power  of  taxation,  and 
the  right  of  borrowing  money,  except  to  a 
trifling  extent,  without  assent  of  the  States- 
general  ;  he  invited  the  assembly  to  form  a 
plan  for  regulating  lettres  de  cachet,  and  ac- 
knowledged the  personal  freedom  of  the  sub- 
ject j  he  provided  for  the  liberty  of  the  press, 
out  not  without  a  recommendation  that  some 
check  should  be  placed  upon  its  licence  ; 
and  he  remitted  to  the  States,  as  the  proper 
authority,  the  abolition  of  the  gabelle,  and 
other  unequal  or  oppressive  taxes. 

But  all  these  boons  availed  nothing,  and 
seemed  to  the  people  and  their  representa- 
tives, but  a  tardy  and  ungracious  mode  of 
,  resigning  rights  which  the  crown  haa  long 
usurped,  and  only  now  restored  when  they 
were  on  the  point  of  being  wrested  from 
its  gripe.  In  addition  to  this,  offence  was 
taken  at  the  tone  and  terms  adopted  in  the 
royal  address.  The  members  of  the  Assem- 
bly conceived  that  the  expression  of  the 
royal  will  was  brought  forward  in  too  imper- 
ative a  form.  They  were  offended  that 
the  King  should  have  recommended  the 
exclusion  of  spectators  from  the  sittings  of 
the  .\8sembly  ;  and  much  displeasure  was 
occasioned  by  his  declaring,  thus  late,  their 
deliberations  and  decrees  on  the  subject  of 
taxes  illegal.  But  the  discontent  was  sum- 
med up  and  raised  to  the  height  by  the  con- 
cluding article  of  the  royal  address,  in  which, 
notwithstanding  their  late  declarations,  and 
oath  not  to  break  up  their  sittings  until 
they  had  completed  a  constitution  for 
France,  the  King  presumed,  by  his  own  sole 
authority,  to  dissolve  the  Estates.  To  con- 
clude, Necker,  upon  whom  alone  among 
the  ministers  the  popular  party  reposed 
confidence,  had  absented  himself  firom  the 
Royal  Sitting,  and  thereby  intimated  his 
discontent  with  the  scheme  proposed. 

This  plan  of  a  constitutional  reformation 
was  received  with  great  applause  by  the 
Clergy  and  the  Nobles,  v.hile  the  Third  Es- 
tate listened  in  sullen  silence.  They  knew 
little  of  the  human  mind,  who  supposed  that 
ihe  display  of  prerogative  which  had  been 
•o  often  successfully  resisted,  could  influ- 
ence such  a  body,  or  induce  them  to  de- 
scend from  the  station  of  power  which  they 
had  gained,  and  to  render  themselves  ridic- 
ulous by  rescinding  the  tow  which  they  had 
80  lately  taken. 

The  King  having,  by  his  own  proper  au- 
thority, dissolved  the  Assembly,  left  the 
ball,  followed  by  the  Nobles  and  part  of  the 
Clergy;  but  the  remaining  members,  who 
had  remained  silent  and  sullen,  immediate- 
ly resumed  their  sitting.  The  King,  sup- 
posing him  resolute  to  assert  the  preroga- 
tive which  his  own  voice  had  but  just 
claimed,  had  no  alternative  but  that  of  ex- 
pelling them  by  force,  and  thus  supporting 
his  order  for  dissolution  of  the  Assembly ; 
but,  alT'tys  halting  between  two  opinions, 
Louis  ei-iployed  no  rougher  means  of  re- 


moving them  than  a  gentle  summon*  to  dis- 
perse, intimated  by  the  royal  master  of  cer- 
emonies. To  this  otficer,  not  certainly  the 
most  formidable  satellite  of  arbitrary  pow- 
er, Mirabeau  replied  with  energetic  deter- 
mination,— "  Slave  !  return  to  thy  master, 
and  tell  him,  that  his  bayonets  alone  can 
drive  from  their  post  the  representatives 
of  the  people." 

The  assembly  then  proceeded  to  pass  a 
decree,  that  they  adhered  to  their  oath  tak- 
en in  the  Tennis-court,  while  by  another 
they  declared  that  their  own  persons  were 
inviolable  ;  and  that  whosoever  should  at- 
tempt to  execute  any  restraint  or  violence 
upon  a  representative  of  the  people,  should 
be  thereby  guilty  of  the  crime  of  high 
treason  against  the  nation. 

Their  firmness,  joined  to  the  inviolabili- 
ty with  which  they  had  invested  themselves, 
and  the  commotions  which  had  broken  out 
at  Paris,  compelled  the  King  to  give  way, 
and  renounce  his  purpose  of  dissolving  the 
States,  which  continued  their  sittings  under 
their  new  title  of  the  National  .\ssembly  , 
while  at  different  intervals,  and  by  differ- 
ent manoeuvres,  the  Chambers  of  the  Clergy 
and  Nobles  united  with  them,  or,  more 
properly,  were  merged  and  absorbed  in  one 
general  body.  Had  that  Assembly  been 
universally  as  pure  in  its  intentions  as  we 
verily  believe  to  have  been  the  case  with 
many  or  most  of  its  members,  the  French 
government,  now  lying  dead  at  their  feet, 
might,  like  the  clay  of  Prometheus,  have 
received  new  animation  from  their  hand. 

But  the  National  Assembly,  though  al- 
most unanimous  in  resisting  the  authority  of 
the  crown,  and  in  opposing  the  claims  of  the 
privileged  classes,  was  much  divided  re- 
specting ulterior  views,  and  carried  in  its  bo- 
som the  seeds  of  internal  dissension,  and  the 
jarring  elements  of  at  least  four  parties, 
which  had  afterwards  their  successive  en- 
trance and  exit  on  the  revolutionary  stage  ; 
)  or  rather  one  followed  the  other  like  suc- 
cessive billows,  each  obliterating  and  de- 
stroying the  marks  its  predecessor  had  left 
on  the  beach. 

The  First  and  most  practical  division 
of  these  legislators,  was  the  class  headed 
by  Mounier,  one  of  the  wisest,  as  well  as 
one  of  the  best  and  worthiest  men  in  France, 
by  Malouet  and  others.  They  were  patrons 
of  a  scheme  at  which  we  have  already  hint- 
ed, and  thought  France  ought  to  look  for 
some  of  the  institutions  favourable  to  free- 
dom, to  England,  whose  freedom  had  flour- 
ished so  long.  To  transplant  the  British 
oak,  with  all  its  contorted  branches  and  ex- 
tended Tftots,  would  have  beeti  a  fruitless 
attempt,  but  the  infant  tree  of  liberty  might 
have  been  taught  to  grow  alter  the  same  fash- 
ion. Modern  France,  like  England  of  old, 
might  have  retainedsuchof  iM^f  own  ancient 
laws,  forms,  or  regulations,-  as  still  were  re- 
garded by  the  nation  with  any  portion  of 
respect,  intermingling  them  with  s'ich  ad- 
ditions and  alterations  as  were  required  by 
the  liberal  spirit  of  modern  times,  and  the 
whole  might  have  been  formed  on  th--t  prin- 
ciples of  British  freedom.  The  natioa 
might  thus,  if  buiVlin^  its  own  kulwarka. 


52 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap   IV. 


have  profited  by  the  plan  of  those  which 
had  so  long  resisted  the  tempest.  It  is 
true,  the  I'rench  legislature  could  not  have 
promised  themselves,  by  the  adoption  of 
this  course,  to  form  at  once  a  perfect  and 
entire  system  ;  but  they  might  have  secur- 
ed the  personal  freedom  of  the  subject,  the 
trial  by  jury,  tlie  liberty  of  the  press,  and 
the  right  of  granting  or  withholding  the 
supplies  necessary  for  conducting  the  state, 
—of  itself  the  strongest  of  all  guarantees 
for  national  freedom,  and  that  of  which, 
when  once  vested  in  their  own  representa- 
tives, the  people  will  never  permit  them  to 
be  depri"ed.  They  might  have  adopted  also 
other  checks^  balances,  and  controls,  es- 
sential to  the  permanence  of  a  free  coun- 
try ;  and  having  laid  so  strong  a  foundation, 
there  would  have  been  time  to  e.xperience 
their  use  as  well  as  their  stability,  and  to 
introduce  gradually  sucli  further  improve- 
ments, additions,  or  alterations,  as  the  state 
of  France  should  appear  to  require,  after 
experience  of  those  which  they  had  adopted. 
But  besides  that  the  national  spirit  might 
be  revolted,  (not  unnaturally,  however  un- 
wisely,) at  borrowing  the  essential  pecul- 
iarities of  their  new  constitution  from  a 
country  which  they  were  accustomed  to 
consider  as  the  natural  rival  of  their  own, 
there  existed  among  the  French  a  jealousy 
of  the  crown,  and  especially  of  the  privi- 
leged classes,  with  whom  they  had  been  so 
lately  engaged  in  political  hostility,  which 
disinclined  the  greater  part  of  the  Assembly 
to  trust  the  King  with  much  authority,  or 
the  Nobles  with  that  influence  which  any 
imitation  of  the  English  constitution  must 
have  assigned  to  them.  A  fear  prevailed, 
that  whatever  privileges  should  be  left  to 
the  King  or  Nobles,  would  be  so  many 
means  of  attack  furnished  to  them  against 
the  new  system.  Joined  to  this  was  the 
ambition  of  creating  at  once,  and  by  their 
own  united  wisdom,  a  constitution  as  per- 
fect as  the  armed  personification  of  Wis- 
dom in  the  heathen  mythology.  England 
kad  worked  her  way,  from  practical  refor- 
mation of  abuses,  into  the  adoption  of  gen- 
eral maxims  of  government.  It  was  re- 
served, thought  most  of  the  National  As- 
sembly, for  France,  to  adopt  a  nobler  and 
more  intellectual  course,  and,  by  laying 
down  abstract  doctrines  of  public  right,  to 
deduce  from  these  their  rules  of  practical 
legislation  ; — just  as  it  is  said,  that  in  the 
French  naval-yards  their  vessels  are  con- 
structed upon  the  principles  of  abstract 
mathematics,  while  those  in  England  are, 
or  were,  cheifiy  built  upon  the  more  tech- 
nical and  mechanical  rules.  But  it  seems 
on  this  and  other  occasiona  to  have  escap- 
ed these  acute  reasoner?.  that  beams  and 
planks  are  subject  to  certain  unalterable 
natural  laws,  while  man  is,  by  the  various 
passions  acting  in  his  nature,  in  contradic- 
tion often  to  the  suggestions  of  his  under- 
standing, as  well  as  by  the  various  modifi- 
cations of  society,  liable  to  a  thousand 
Tariations,  aW  of  which  call  ^■)r  limitations 
ajid  exceptions  qualifying  whatever  general 
msxims  may  be  adopted  coacerning  bis  du- 
tiM  aad  his  rights. 


All  such  considerations  were  spurned  by 
the  numerous  body  of  the  new  French  le- 
gislature, who  resolved,  in  imitation  of  Me- 
dea, to  fling  into  their  renovating  kettle 
every  existing  joint  and  member  of  their 
old  constitution,  in  order  to  its  perfect  and 
entire  renovation.  I'his  mode  of  proceed- 
ing was  liable  to  three  great  objections. 
First,  that  the  practical  inferences  deduc- 
ed from  the  abstract  principle  were  always 
liable  to  challenge  by  those,  who,  in  logical 
language,  denied  the  minor  of  the  proposi- 
tion, or  asserted  that  the  conclusion  was  ir- 
regularly deduced  from  the  premises.  Sec- 
ondly, that  the  legislators,  thus  grounding 
the  whole  basis  of  their  intended  constitu- 
tion upon  speculative  political  opinions, 
strongly  resembled  the  tailors  of  Laputa. 
who,  without  condescending  to  take  meas- 
ure of  their  customers,  like  brethren  of  the 
trade  elsewhere,  toqk  the  girth  and  altitude 
of  the  person  by  mathematical  calculation, 
and  if  the  clothes  did  not  fit,  as  was  almost 
always  the  case,  thought  it  ample  consola- 
tion for  tiie  party  concerned  to  be  assured, 
that,  as  they  worked  from  infallible  rules 
of  art,  the  error  could  only  be  occasioned 
by  his  own  faulty  and  irregular  conforma- 
tion of  figure.  Thirdly,  A  legislature 
which  contents  itself  with  such  a  constitu- 
tion as  is  adapted  to  the  existing  state  of 
things,  may  liope  to  attain  their  end,  and 
in  presenting  it  to  the  people  may  be  enti- 
tled to  say,  that,  although  the  plan  is  not 
perfect,  it  partakes  in  that  but  of  the  na- 
ture of  all  earthly  institutions,  while  it 
comprehends  the  elements  of  as  much 
good  as  the  actual  state  of  society  permits  j 
but  from  the  law-makers,  who  begin  by  de- 
stroying all  existing  enactments,  and  assume 
it  as  their  duty  entirely  to  renovate  the 
constitution  of  a  country,  nothing  short  of 
absolute  perfection  can  be  accepted.  They 
can  shelter  themselves  under  no  respect  to 
ancient  prejudices  which  they  have  contra 
dieted,  or  to  circumstances  of  society  which 
they  have  thrown  out  of  consideration. 
They  must  follow  up  to  the  uttermost  the 
principle  they  have  adopted,  and  their  in- 
stitutions can  never  be  fixed  or  secure  from 
the  encroachments  of  succeeding  innova- 
tors.while  they  retain  any  taint  of  that  falli- 
bility to  which  all  human  inventions  are 
necessarily  subject. 

The  majority  of  the  French  .\ssembly  en- 
tertained, nevertheless,  the  ambitious  vievr 
of  making  a  constitution,  corresponding  in 
every  respect  to  those  propositions  they 
had  laid  down  as  embracing  the  rights  of 
man,  which,  if  it  should  not  happen  to  suit 
the  condition  of  their  country,  would  nev- 
ertheless be  such  as  ought  to  have  suited 
it,  but  for  the  irregular  p'.ay  of  human  pas- 
sions, and  the  artificial  habits  acquired  in 
an  artificial  state  of  society.  But  this  ma- 
jority differed  among  themselves  in  this  es- 
sential particular,  that  the  skcond  division 
of  the  legislature,  holding  that  of  Mounier 
for  the  first,  was  disposed  to  place  at  the 
head  of  their  newly-manufactured  govern- 
ment the  reigning  King,  Louis  XVI.  This 
resolution  in  his  favour  mi^ht  be  partly  out 
of  regard  to  the  long  partiality  of  the  natioa 


Chap.  IV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


53 


to  the  House  of  Bourbon,  partly  out  of  re- 
spect for  the  philanthropical  and  accomodat- 
ing character  of  Louis.  We  may  conceive 
also,  that  La  Fayette,  bred  a  soldier,  and 
Bailli,  educated  a  magistrate,  liad  still,  not- 
withstanding their  political  creed,  a  natural, 
though  unphilosophical  partiality  to  their 
well-meaning  and  ill-fated  sovereign,  and 
a  conscientious  desire  to  relax,  so  far  as 
his  particular  interest  was  concerned,  their 
general  rule  of  reversing  all  that  had  previ- 
ously had  a  political  existence  in  France. 

A  THIRD  faction,  entertaining  the  same 
articles  of  political  creed  with  La  Fayette, 
Bailli,  and  others,  carried  them  much  far- 
ther, and  set  at  defiance  the  scruples  which 
limited  the  iwo  first  parties  in  their  career  of 
reformation.  These  last  ay:reed  with  La  Fay- 
ette on  the  necessity  of  reconstructing  the 
whole  government  upon  a  new  basis,  without 
which  entire  innovation,  they  further  agreed 
with  him,  that  it  must  have  been  perpetu- 
ally liable  to  the  chance  of  a  counter-revo- 
lution. But  carrying  their  arguments  fiir- 
ther  than  the  Constitutional  party,  as  the 
followers  of  Fayette,  these  bolder  theorists 
pleaded  the  inconsistency  and  danger  of 
placing  at  the  head  oV  their  new  system  of 
reformed  and  regenerated  government,  a 
prince  accustomed  to  consider  himself,  as 
by  inheritance,  the  legitimate  possessor  of 
absolute  power.  They  urged  that,  like  tlie 
snake  and  peasant  in  the  fable,  it  was 
impossible  th.it  the  monarch  and  Iiis  demo- 
cratical  counsellors  could  forget,  the  one 
the  loss  of  his  power,  the  other  the  constant 
temptation  which  must  beset  the  King  to 
attempt  its  recovery.  With  more  consis- 
tency, therefore,  than  the  Constitutional- 
ists, this  third  party  of  politicians  became 
decided  Republicans,  determined  upon  ob- 
literating from  the  new  constitution  every 
name  and  vestige  of  monarchy. 

The  men  of  letters  in  the  Assembly  were, 
many  of  them,  attached  to  this  faction. 
They  had  originally  been  kept  in  the  back- 
ground by  the  lawyers  and  mercantile  part 
of  the  Assembly.  Many  of  them  possessed 
great  talents,  and  were  by  nature  men  of 
honour  and  of  virtue.  But  in  great  revolu- 
tions, it  is  impossible  to  resist  the  dizzying 
effect  of  enthusiastic  feeling  and  excited 
passion.  In  the  violence  of  their  zeal  for 
the  liberty  of  France,  they  too  frequently 
adopted  the  maxim,  that  so  glorious  an  ob- 
ject sanctioned  almost  any  means  which 
could  be  used  to  attain  it.  Under  the  ex- 
aggerated influence  of  a  mistaken  patriot- 
ism, they  were  too  apt  to  forget  that  a  crime 
remains  the  same  in  character  even  when 
perpetrated  in  a  public  cause.* 


*  A  singular  instance  of  this  overstrained  and 
dangerous  enthusiasm  is  given  by  Madame  Roland. 
It  being  the  purpose  to  rouse  the  fears  and  spirit 
of  the  people,  and  direct  their  animosity  against 
the  court  party,  Grangcneuve  agreed  that  he  him- 
aelf  should  be  murdered,  by  persons  chosen  for  the 
purpose,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  suspicion  of 
the  crime  should  attp'ih  itself  to  the  aristocrats. 
He  went  to  the  place  appointed,  but  Chabot,  who 
was  to  have  shared  his  fate,  neither  appeared  liim- 
«elf,  nor  had  made  the  nocessary  preparations  for 
the  assassination  ofhis  friend,  for  which  Madame 
Eoland,  that  high-spirited  republican,  dilates  up- 


It  was  among  these  ardent  men  that  first 
arose  the  idea  of  forming  a  club,  or  society, 
to  serve  as  a  point  of  union  for  those  who 
entertained  the  same  political  sentiments. 
Once  united,  they  rendered  their  sittings 
public,  combined  them  with  affiliated  socie- 
ties in  all  parts  of  France,  and  could  thus, 
as  from  one  common  centre,  agitate  the 
most  remote  frontiers  with  the  passionate 
feelings  which  electrilied  the  metropolis. 
Tliis  formidable  weapon  was,  in  process  of 
time,  wrested  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Fed- 
eralists, as  the  original  republicans  were 
invidiously  called,  by  the  faction  who  were 
generally  termed  Jacobins,  from  their  iuflu- 
euce  in  that  society,  and  whose  exixlence 
and  peculiarities  as  a  party,  we  have  now 
to  notice. 

As  yet  this  fourth,  and,  as  it  afterwards 
proved,  most  formidable  party,  lurked  in  se- 
cret among  the  republicans  of  a  higher  o»- 
der  and  purer  sentiments,  as  they,  on  their 
part,  had  not  yet  raised  the  mask,  or  ven- 
tured to  declare  openly  against  the  plan  of 
a  constitutional  monarchy.  The  Jacobins 
were  termed,  in  ridicule,  Les  Enragis,  by 
the  Republicans,  who,  seeing  in  them  only 
men  of  a  fiery  disposition,  and  ^iolence  of 
deportment  and  declamation,  vainly  thought 
they  could  halloo  them  on,  and  call  them 
off,  at  their  pleasure.  They  were  yet  to 
learn,  that  when  force  is  solemnly  appeal- 
ed to,  the  strongest  and  most  ferocious,  as 
they  must  be  foremost  in  the  battle,  will 
not  lose  their  share  of  the  spoil,  and  are 
more  likely  to  make  the  lion's  partition. 
These  Jacobins  affected  to  carry  the  ideas 
of  liberty  and  equality  to  the  most  extrava- 
gant lengths,  and  were  laughed  at  and  ridi- 
culed in  the  Assembly  as  a  sort  of  fanatics, 
too  absurd  to  be  dreaded.  Their  character, 
indeed,  was  too  exaggerated,  their  habits 
too  openly  profligate,  their  manners  too 
abominably  coarse,  their  schemes  too  ex- 
travagantly violent,  to  be  produced  to  open 
day,  while  yet  the  decent  forms  of  society 
were  observed.  But  they  were  not  the  less 
successful  in  gaining  the  lower  classes, 
whose  cause  they  pretended  peculiarly  tn 
espouse,  whose  passions  they  inflamed  by 
an  eloquence  suited  to  such  hearers,  and 
whose  tastes  they  flattered  by  affectation  of 
brutal  manners  and  vulgar  dress.  They 
soon,  by  these  arts,  attached  to  themselves 
a  large  body  of  followers,  violently  inflam- 
ed with  the  prejudices  which  had  been  in- 
fused into  their  minds,  and  too  boldly  des- 
perate to  hesitate  at  any  measures  which 
should  be  recommended  by  their  dema- 
gogues. What  might  be  the  ultimate  ob- 
ject of  these  men  cannot  !be  known.  We 
can  hardly  give  any  of  them  credit  for  be- 
on  his  poltroonery.  Yet,  what  was  this  patriotie 
devotion,  save  a  plan  to  support  a  false  accusation 
against  the  innocent,  by  an  act  of  murder  and  suv- 
cide,  which,  if  the  scheme  succeeded,  was  to  lead 
to  massacre  and  proscription  .'  The  same  false,  ex- 
aggerated, and  distorted  views,  of  the  public  good 
centring,  as  it  seemed  to  them,  in  the  establishment 
of  a  pure  republic,  led  Barnave  and  others  to  pal- 
liate the  mass,acres  of  September.  Most  of  them 
might  have  said  of  the  Liberty  Avhich  they  had 
worshipped,  that  at  their  death  they  found  it  MB 
empty  name. 


54 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  IV, 


ing  mad  enough  to  have  any  real  patriotic 
feeling,  however  extravagantly  distorted. 
Most  probably,  each  had  formed  some 
vagup  prospect  of  terminating  the  affair  to 
his  jwn  advantage  }  but  in  the  meantime, 
all  agreed  in  the  necessity  of  sustaining  the 
revolutionary  impulse,  of  deferring  the  re- 
turn of  order  and  quiet,  and  of  resisting  and 
deranging  any  description  of  orderly  and 
peaceful  government.  They  were  sensible 
that  the  return  of  law,  under  any  establish- 
ed and  regular  form  whatsoever,  must  ren- 
(  der  them  as  contemptible  as  odious,  and 
'  were  determined  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
disorder  while  it  lasted,  and  to  snatch  at  and 
enjoy  such  portions  of  the  national  wreck 
as  the  tempest  might  throw  within  their  in- 
dividual reach. 

This  foul  and  desperate  faction  could  not, 
by  all  the  activity  it  used,  have  attained  the 
sway  wliich  it  exerted  amongst  the  lees  of 
the  people,  without  possessing  and  exercis- 
ing extensively  the  power  of  suborning  in- 
ferior leaders  among  the  populace.  It  has 
bpon  generally  asserted,  that  means  for  at- 
tiiining  this  important  object  were  supplied 
by  the  immense  wealth  of  the  nearest 
icince  of  the  blood  royal,  that  Duke  of 
Orleans,  whose  name  is  so  unhappily  mixed 
with  the  history  of  this  period.  By  his 
largesses,  according  to  the  general  report 
of  historians,  a  number  of  the  most  violent 
writers  of  pamphlets  and  newspapers  were 
pensioned,  who  deluged  the  public  with 
false  news  and  violent  abuse.  This  prince, 
it  is  said,  recompensed  those  popular  and 
ferocious  orators,  who  nightly  harangued 
the  people  in  the  Psdais  Royale,  and  open- 
ly stimulated  them  to  the  most  violent  ag- 
gressions upon  the  persons  and  property  of 
obnoxious  individuals.  From  the  same  un- 
happy man's  coffers  were  paid  numbers  of 
tliose  who  resrularly  attended  on  the  debates 
of  the  Assembly,  crowded  the  galleries  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  public  at  large,  ap- 
plauded, hissed,  exercised  an  almost  domi- 
neering influence  in  the  national  councils, 
and  were  sometimes  addressed  by  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  people,  as  if  they  had 
themselves  been  the  people  of  whom  they 
were  the  scum  and  the  refuse. 

Fouler  accusations  even  than  these  char- 
ges were  brought  forward.  Bands  of  stran- 
gers, men  of  wild,  haggard,  and  ferocious 
appearance,  whose  persons  the  still  watch- 
ful police  of  Paris  were  unacquainted  with, 
began  to  be  seen  in  the  metropolis,  like 
those  obscene  and  ill-omened  birds  which 
'  are  seldom  visible  except  before  a  storm. 
All  these  were  understood  to  be  suborned 
by  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  his  agents,  to 
unite  with  the  ignorant,  violent,  corrupted 
populace  of  the  great  metropolis  of  France, 
for  the  purpose  of  urging  and  guiding  them 
to  actions  of  terror  and  cruelty.  The  ulti- 
mate object  of  these  manceuvres  is  suppos- 
ed to  have  been  a  change  of  dynasty,  which 
should  gratify  the  Duke  of  Orleans'  revenge 
by  the  deposition  of  his  cousin,  and  his  am- 
bition by  enthroning  himself  in  his  stead, 
or  at  least  by  nnminating  him  Lieutenant 
of  France,  with  all  the  royal  powers.  The 
most  daring  and  unscrupulous  amongst  the 


Jacobins  are  said  originally  to  have  belong- 
ed to  the  faction  of  Orleans;  but  as  he 
manifested  a  want  of  decision,  and  did  not 
avail  himself  of  opportunities  of  pushing 
his  fortune,  they  abandoned  their  leader, 
(whom  they  continued,  however,  to  flatter 
and  deceive,)  and,  at  the  head  of  the  parti- 
zans  collected  for  his  service,  and  paid 
from  his  finances,  they  pursued  the  patn  of 
their  individual  fortunes. 

Besides  the  various  parties  which  we 
have  detailed,  and  which  gradually  devel- 
oped their  discordant  sentiments  as  the 
Revolution  proceeded,  the  Assembly  con- 
tained the  usual  proportion  cf  that  pru- 
dent class  of  politicians  who  are  guided  by 
events,  and  who,  in  the  days  of  Cromwell, 
called  themselves  '•'  Waiters  upon  Provi- 
d-ence  ;" — merfwho  might  boast,  with  the 
miller  in  the  tale,  tiiat  though  they  could 
not  direct  the  course  of  the  wind,  tliey 
could  adjust  their  sails  so  as  to  profit  by  it, 
blow  from  what  quarter  it  would. 

All  the  various  parties  in  the  Assembly, 
by  whose  division  the  King  might,  by  tem- 
porizing measures,  have  surely  profited, 
were  united  in  a  determined  course  of  hos- 
tility to  the  crown  and  its  pretensions,  by 
the  course  which  Louis  XVI.  was  unfortu- 
nately advised  to  pursue.  It  had  been  re- 
solved to  assume  a  menacing  attitude,  and 
to  place  the  King  at  the  head  of  a  strong 
force.     Orders  were  given  accordingly. 

Necker,  though  approving  of  many  parts 
of  the  proposal  made  to  the  Assembly  at  the 
royal  sitting,  had  strongly  dissented  from 
others,  and  had  opposed  the  measure  of 
marching  troops  towards  Versailles  and 
Paris  to  overawe  the  capital,  and,  if  neces- 
sary, the  National  Assembly.  Necker  re- 
ceived his  dismission,  and  thus  a  second 
time  the  King  and  the  people  seemed  to  be 
prepared  for  open  war.  The  force  at  first 
glance  seemed  entirely  on  the  royal  side. 
Thirty  regiments  were  drawn  around  Paris 
and  Versailles,  commanded  by  Marshal 
Broglio,  an  officer  of  eminence,  and  believ- 
ed to  be  a  zealous  anti-revolutionist,  and  a 
large  camp  formed  under  the  walls  of  the 
metropolis.  The  town  was  open  on  all 
sides,  and  the  only  persons  by  whom  de-^ 
fence  could  be  offered  were  an  unarmed 
mob  ;  but  this  superiority  existed  only  in 
appearance.  The  French  guards  had  al- 
ready united  themselves,  or,  as  the  phrase 
then  went,  fraternized  with  the  people, 
yielding  to  the  various  modes  employed  to 
dispose  them  to  the  popular  cause ;  and, 
little  attached  to  their  officers,  most  of 
whom  only  saw  their  companies  upon  the 
days  of  parade  or  duty,  an  apparent  acci- 
dent, which  probably  had  its  origin  in  an 
experiment  upon  the  feelings  of  these  re- 
giments, brought  the  matter  to  a  crisis. 
"The  soldiers  had  been  supplied  secretly 
with  means  of  unusual  dissipation,  and  con- 
sequently a  laxity  of  discipline  was  daily 
gaining  ground  among  them.  To  correct 
this  licence,  eleven  of  the  guards  had  been 
committed  to  prison  for  military  offences  ; 
the  Parisian  mob  delivered  them  by  vio- 
lence, and  took  them  under  the  protection 
of  the  inhabitants,  a  conduct  which  made 


Chap,  /v.] 


LIFE  OF  N\POLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


55 


the  natural  impression  on  their  comrades. 
Their  numbers  were  three  thousand  six 
hundred  of  the  best  soldiers  in  France,  ac- 
customed to  military  discipline,  occupy- 
ing every  strong  point  in  the  city,  and  sup- 
ported by  its  immense  though  disorderly 
populace. 

The  gaining  these  regiments  gave  the 
Revol'ationists  the  command  of  Paris,  from 
which  the  army  assembled  under  Broglio 
might  have  found  it  hard  to  dislodge  them  ; 
but  these  last  were  more  willing  to  aid 
than  to  quell  any  insurrection  which  might 
take  place.  The  modes  of  seduction  which 
had  succeeded  with  the  French  guards 
were  sedulously  addressed  to  other  coqjs. 
The  regiments  which  lay  nearest  to  Paris 
were  not  forgotten.  They  were  plied  with 
those  temptations  which  are  most  powerful 
with  soldiers — wine,  women,  and  money, 
were  supplied  in  abundance — and  it  was 
amidst  debauchery  and  undiscipline  that 
the  French  army  renounced  their  loyalty, 
which  used  to  be  even  too  much  the  god 
of  their  idolatry,  and  which  weis  now  de- 
stroyed like  the  temple  of  Persepolis, 
amidst  the  vapours  of  wine,  and  at  the  in- 
stigation of  courtezans.  There  remained 
the  foreign  troops,  of  which  there  were 
several  regiments,  but  their  disposition  was 
doubtful ;  and  to  use  them  against  the  citi- 
zens of  Paris,  might  have  been  to  confirm 
the  soldiers  of  the  soil  in  their  indispo- 
sition to  the  royal  cause,  supported  as  it 
must  then  have  been  by  foreigners  exclu- 
eively. 

Meanwhile,  the  dark  intrigues  which  had 
been  long  formed  for  accomplishing  a  gen- 
eral insurrection  in  Paris,  were  now  ready 
to  be  brought  into  action.  The  populace 
had  been  encouraged  by  success  in  one  or 
two  skirmishes  with  the  gens-d'armes  and 
foreign  soldiery.  They  had  stood  a  skir- 
mish with  a  regiment  of  German  horse,  and 
had  been  successful.  The  number  of  des- 
perate characters  who  were  to  lead  the  van 
va.  these  violences,  was  now  greatly  increas- 
ed. Deep  had  called  to  deep,  and  the  rev- 
olutionar}'  clubs  of  Paris  had  summoned 
their  confederates  from  among  the  most 
fiery  and  forward  of  every  province.  Be- 
sides troops  of  galley-slaves  and  deserters, 
vagabonds  of  every  order  flocked  to  Paris, 
like  ravens  to  the  spoil.  To  these  were 
joined  the  lowest  inhabitants  of  a  populous 
city,  always  ready  for  riot  and  rapine  ;  and 
they  were  led  on  and  encouraged  by  men 
who  were  in  many  instances  sincere  en- 
thusiasts in  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  thought 
it  could  only  be  victorious  by  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  present  government.  The  Re- 
publican and.  Jacobin  party  were  open  in 
sentiment  and  in  action,  encouraging  the 
insurrection  by  every  means  in  their  pow- 
er. The  Constitutionalists,  more  passive, 
were  still  rejoiced  to  see  the  storm  arise, 
conceiving  such  a  crisis  was  necessary  to 
compel  the  King  to  place  the  helm  of  the 
state  in  their  hands.  It  might  have  been 
expected,  that  the  assembled  force  of  the 
crown  would  be  employed  to  preserve  the 
peace  at  least,  and  prevent  the  general  sys- 
tem of  robbery  and  plunder  which  seemed 


about  to  ensue.  They  appeared  not,  and 
the  citizens  themselves  took  arms  by  thou- 
sands, and  tens  of  thousands,  forming  the 
burgher  militia,  which  was  afterwards  call- 
ed the  National  Guard.  The  royal  arsenals 
were  plundered  to  obtain  arms,  and  La 
Fayette  was  adopted  the  commander-in- 
chief  of  this  new  army,  a  sufficient  sign 
that  they  were  to  embrace  what  was  called 
the  Constitutional  party.  Another  large 
proportion  of  the  population  was  hastily 
armed  with  pikes,  a  weapon  which  waa 
thence  termed  Revolutionary.  The  Baron 
de  Besenval,  at  the  head  of  the  Swiss 
guards,  two  foreign  regiments,  and  eight 
hundred  horse,  after  an  idle  demonstration 
which  only  served  to  encourage  the  insur- 
gents, retired  from  Paris  without  firing  a 
shot,  having,  he  says  in  his  Memoirs,  no 
orders  how  to  act,  and  being  desirous  to 
avoid  precipitating  a  civil  war.  His  re- 
treat was  the  signal  for  a  general  insurrec- 
tion, in  which  the  French  Guard,  the  Na- 
tional Guard,  and  the  armed  mob  of  Paris, 
took  the  BastiUe,  and  massacred  a  part  of 
the  garrison. 

We  are  not  tracing  minutely  the  events 
of  the  Revolut.on,  but  only  attempting  to 
describe  their  spirit  and  tendency ;  and  we 
may  here  notice  two  changes,  which  for 
the  first  time  were  observed  to  have  taken 
place  in  the  character  of  the  Parisian  pop- 
ulace. 

The  Badauds  de  Paris,  as  they  were  call- 
ed in  derision,  had  been  hitherto  viewed  as 
a  light,  laughing,  thoughtless  race,  passion- 
ately fond  of  news,  though  not  very  acutely 
distinguishing  betwixt  truth  and  falsehood, 
quick  in  adopting  impressions,  but  incapa- 
ble of  forming  firm  and  concerted  resolu- 
tions, still  more  incapable  of  executing 
them,  and  so  easily  overawed  by  an  armed 
force,  that  about  twelve  hundred  police- 
soldiers  had  been  hitherto  sufficient  to  keep 
all  Paris  in  subjection.  But  in  the  attack 
of  the  Bastille,  they  showed  themselves 
daring,  resolute,  and  unyielding,  as  well  as 
prompt  and  headlong.  These  new  quali- 
ties were  in  some  degree  owing  to  the 
support  which  they  received  from  the 
French  Guards  ;  bift  are  still  more  to  be 
attributed  to  the  loftier  and  more  decided 
character  belonging  to  the  revolutionary 
spirit,  and  the  mixture  of  men  of  the  better 
classes,  and  of  the  high  tone  which  belongs 
to  them,  among  the  mere  rabble  of  the  ci^. 
The  garrison  of  this  too-famous  castle  was 
indeed  very  weak,  but  its  deep  moats,  and 
insurmountable  bulwarks,  presented  the 
most  imposing  show  of  resistance ;  and  the 
triumph  which  the  popular  cause  obtained 
in  an  exploit  seemingly  so  desperate,  infus- 
ed a  general  consternation  into  the  King 
and  the  royalists. 

The  second  remarkable  particular  was, 
that  from  being  one  of  the  most  light-heart- 
ed and  kind -tempered  of  nations ,  the  French 
seemed  upon  the  Revolution  to  have  been 
animated  not  merely  with  the  courage,  but 
with  the  rabid  fury,  of  unchained  wild 
beasts.  Foulon  and  Berthier,  two  individ 
uals  whom  they  considered  as  enemies  of 
the  people,  were  put  to  death,  with  circum- 


56 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  IV. 


stances  of  cruelty  and  insult  fitting  only  at 
the  death-stiLke  of  a  Cherokee  encamp- 
ment j  and,  in  emulation  of  literal  cannibals, 
there  were  men,  or  rather  monsters,  found, 
not  only  to  tear  asunder  the  limba  of  their 
victims,  but  to  eat  their  hearts,  and  drink 
their  blood.  The  intensity  of  the  new 
doctrines  of  freedom,  the  animosity  occa- 
sioned by  civil  commotion,  cannot  account 
for  these  atrocities,  even  in  the  lowest  and 
most  ignorant  of  the  populace.  Those  who 
led  the  way  in  such  unheard-of  enormities, 
must  have  been  practised  murderers  and 
assassins,  mi.xed  with  the  insurgents,  like 
old  hounds  in  a  young  pack,  to  lead  them 
on,  flesh  them  with  slaughter,  and  teach  an 
example  of  cruelty  too  easily  learned,  but 
hard  to  be  ever  forgotten.  The  metropolis 
was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  insurgents, 
and  civil  war  or  submission  was  the  only 
resource  left  to  the  sovereign.  For  the 
former  course  sufficient  reasons  might  be 
urged.  The  whole  proceedings  in  ths  me- 
tropolis had  been  entirely  insurrectionary, 
without  the  least  pretence  of  authority  from 
the  National  Assembly,  which  continued 
sitting  at  Versailles,  discussing  the  order 
of  the  day,  while  the  citizens  of  Paris  were 
storming  castles,  and  tearing  to  pieces  their 
prisoners,  without  authority  from  the  na- 
tional representatives,  and  even  without 
the  consent  of  their  own  civic  rulers.  The 
provost  of  the  merchants  was  assassinated 
at  the  commencement  of  the  disturbance, 
and  a  terrified  committee  of  electors  were 
the  only  persons  who  preserved  the  least 
semblance  of  authority,  which  they  were 
obliged  to  exercise  under  the  control  and 
at  the  pleasure  of  the  infuriated  multitude . 
A  large  proportion  of  the  citizens,  though 
assoming  arms  for  the  protection  of  them- 
selves and  their  families,  had  no  desire  of 
employing  them  against  the  royal  authority  ; 
a  much  larger  only  united  themselves  with 
the  insurgents,  because,  in  a  moment  of 
universal  af'tation,  they  were  the  active 
and  predominant  party.  Of  these  the  for- 
mer desired  peace  and  protection  ;  the  lat- 
ter, from  habit  and  shame,  must  have  soon 
deserted  the  side  which  was  ostensibly 
conducted  by  ruffians  and  common  stabbers, 
and  drawn  themselves  to  that  which  pro- 
tected peace  and  good  order.  We  have 
too  good  an  opinion  of  a  people  so  en- 
lightened as  those  of  France,  too  good  an 
opinion  of  human  nature  in  any  country,  to 
believe  that  men  will  persist  in  evil,  if  de- 
fended in  their  honest  and  legal  rights. 

What,  in  this  case,  was  the  duty  of  Louis 
XVI.  ?  We  answer  %vithout  hesitation,  that 
which  George  III.  of  Britain  proposed  to 
himself,  when,  in  the  name  of  the  Protest- 
ant Religion,  a  violent  and  disorderly  mob 
opened  prisons,  destroyed  property,  burned 
houses,  and  committed,  though  with  far 
fewer  symptoms  of  atrocity,  the  same 
course  of  disorder  which  now  laid  waste 
Paris.  It  is  known  that  when  his  ministers 
hesitated  to  give  an  opinion  in  point  of  law 
concerning  the  employment  of  military 
force  for  projection  of  life  and  property 
r.gainst  a  disorderly  banditti,  the  King,  as 
thief  maigistrate,  declared  his  own  purpose 


to  march  into  the  blazing  city  at  the  head 
of  his  guards,  and  with  the  strong  hand  of 
war  to  subdue  the  insurgents,  and  restore 
peace  to  the  affrighted  capital.  The  same 
call  now  sounded  loudly  in  the  ear  of  Lou- 
is. He  was  still  the  chief  magistrate  of 
the  people,  whose  duty  it  was  to  protect 
their  lives  and  property — still  commander 
of  that  army  levied  and  paid  for  protectiaff 
the  law  of  the  country,  and  the  lives  ana 
property  of  the  subject.  The  King  ought 
to  have  proceeded  to  the  Nationid  Assem- 
bly without  an  instant's  delay,  cleared  him- 
self before  that  body  of  the  suspicions  with 
which  calumny  had  loaded  him,  and  re- 
quired and  commanded  the  assistance  of 
the  representatives  of  the  people  to  quell 
the  frightful  excesses  of  murder  and  rapino 
which  dishonoured  the  capital.  It  is  al- 
most certain  that  the  whole  moderate  party, 
as  they  were  called,  would  have  united 
with  the  nobles  and  the  clergy.  The  throne 
was  not  yet  empty,  nor  the  sword  unsway- 
ed. Louis  had  surrendered  much,  and 
might,  in  the  course  of  the  change  impend- 
ing, have  been  obliged  to  surrender  more  : 
but  he  was  still  King  of  France,  still  bound 
by  his  coronation  oath  to  prevent  murder 
and  put  down  insurrection.  He  could  not 
be  considered  as  crushing  the  cause  of  free- 
dom, in  answering  a  call  to  discharge  his 
kingly  duty;  for  what  had  the  cause  of  re- 
formation, proceeding  as  it  was  by  the 
peaceful  discussion  of  an  unarmed  conven- 
tion, to  do  with  the  open  war  waged  by  the 
insurptents  of  Paris  upon  the  King's  troops, 
or  with  the  gratuitous  murders  and  atroci- 
ties with  which  the  capital  had  been  pollut- 
ed ?  With  such  members  as  shame  and  fear 
might  have  brought  over  from  the  opposite 
side,  the  King,  exerting  himself  as  a  prince, 
would  have  formed  a  majority  strong  enough 
to  show  the  union  which  subsisted  betwixt 
the  Crown  and  the  Assembly,  when  the 
protection  of  the  laws  was  the  point  in 
question.  With  such  a  support — or  with- 
out it — for  it  is  the  duty  of  the  prince,  in  a 
crisis  of  such  emergency,  to  serve  the  peo- 
ple, and  save  the  country,  by  the  exercise 
of  his  royal  prerogative,  whether  with  or 
without  the  concurrence  of  the  other 
branches  of  the  legislature, — the  King,  at 
the  head  of  his  Gardes  du  Corps,  of  the 
regiments  which  might  have  been  found 
faithful,  of  the  nobles  and  gentry,  whose 
principles  of  chivalry  devoted  them  to  the 
sevice  of  their  sovereign,  ought  to  have 
marched  into  Paris,  and  put  down  the  in- 
surrection by  the  armed  hand  of  authority, 
or  fallen  in  the  attempt,  like  the  representa- 
tive of  Henry  IV.  His  duty  called  upon 
him,  and  the  authority  with  which  he  was 
invested  enabled  him,  to  act  this  part; 
which,  in  all  probability,  would  have  dis- 
mayed the  factious,  encouraged  the  timid, 
decided  the  wavering,  and,  by  obtaining  a 
conquest  over  lawless  and  brute  violence, 
would  have  paved  the  way  for  a  moderate 
and  secure  reformation  in  the  state. 

But,  having  obtained  this  victory,  in  the 
name  of  the  Law  of  the  realm,  the  Kins 
could  only  be  vindicated  in  having  resorted 
to  arms,  by  using  his  conquest  with  such 


Chap.  IV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


57 


moderation,  as  to  show  that  he  threw  his 
■word  into  the  one  scale,  solely  in  order  to 
balance  the  clubs  and  poniards  of  pojjul^r 
insurrection,  with  which  the  other  was 
loaded.  He  must  then  have  evinced  that 
he  did  not  mean  to  obstruct  the  quiet 
course  of  moderation  and  constitutional  re- 
form, in  stemming  that  of  headlong  and  vi- 
olent innovation.  Many  disputes  would 
have  remained  to  be  settled  between  liim 
and  his  subjects  ;  but  tlie  proce?s  of  im- 
proving the  constitution,  though  less  rapid, 
would  have  been  more  safe  and  certain, 
and  the  kingdom  of  France  might  have  at- 
tained a  degree  of  freedom  equal  to  that 
which  she  now  possesses,  without  passing 
through  a  brief  but  dreadful  anarchy  to  long 
years  of  military  despotism,  without  the 
loss  of  mines  of  treasure,  and  without  the 
expenditure  of  oceans  of  blood.  To  tliose 
who  object  the  peril  of  this  course,  and  the 
risk  to  tlie  person  of  the  sovereign  from  the 
fury  of  the  insurgents,  we  can  only  answer, 
in  the  words  of  the  elder  Horatius,  Qm'  il 
moxirdt.  Prince  or  peasant  have  alike  liv- 
ed long  enough,  when  the  clioice  comes  to 
be  betwixt  loss  of  life  and  an  important  du- 
ty undischarged.  Deatli,  at  the  head  of 
his  troops,  would  have  saved  Louis  more 
ci-uel  humiliation,  his  subjects  a  deeper 
crime. 

We  do  not  .affect  to  deny,  that  in  tliis 
course  there  was  considerable  risk  of  an- 
other kind,  and  that  it  is  very  possible  that 
the  King,  susceptible  as  he  was  to  the  in- 
fluence of  those  around  him,  might  have 
lain  under  strong  temptation  to  have  resum- 
ed the  despotic  authority,  of  which  he  had 
in  a  great  measure  divested  himself,  and 
have  thus  abused  a  victory  gained  over  in- 
surrection into  a  weapon  of  tyranny.  But 
the  spirit  of  liberty  was  so  string  in  France, 
the  principles  of  leniency  and  moderation 
80  natural  to  the  Kinir,  his  own  late  hazards 
so  great,  and  the  future,  considering  the 
general  disposition  of  liis  subjects,  so 
doubtful,  that  we  are  inclined  to  think  a 
victory  by  the  sovereign  at  that  moment 
would  have  been  followed  by  temperate 
measures.  How  the  people  used  tlieirs  is 
but  too  well  known.  At  any  rate,  we  have 
strongly  stated  our  (.pinion,  that  Louis 
would  at  this  crisis  have  been  justified  in 
employing  force  to  compel  order,  but  that 
the  crime  would  have  been  deep  and  inex- 
piable had  he  abused  a  victory  to  rcsto.'c 
despotism. 

It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  the  preceding 
statement  takes  too  much  for  granted,  an.l 
that  the  violence  employed  on  the  I4tli  July 
was  probably  or'y  an  anticipation  of  the 
forcible  measures  which  might  have  been 
expected  from  the  King  against  the  Assem- 
bly. The  answer  to  this  is,  that  the  suc- 
cessful party  may  always  cast  on  the  loser 
the  blan.e  of  coramrncing  the  brawl,  as  the 
wolf  punisJied  the  lamb  for  troublinsx  the  I 
course  of  the  water,  thounrh  he  drank  low-  | 
est  down  the  stream.  But  wheji  we  find 
one  party  completely  prepared  and  rea;ly 
for  action,  formins  plans  boldly,  and  exe- 
cuting them  skilfully,  and  observe  the  other 
macertain  and  unprovided,  betraving  all  the 
Yot,  L  "      Q-i 


imbecility  of  surprise  and  indecision,  we 
must  necessarily  believe  the  attack  was 
premeditated  on  the  one  side,  and  unexpect- 
ed on  the  other. 

The  abandonment  of  thirty  thousand 
stand  of  arms  at  the  Hotel  des  Invalides, 
which  were  surrendered  without  the  slight- 
est resistance,  though  three  .Swiss  regiments 
lay  encamped  in  the  Champs  Elys^es  ;  the 
totally  unprovided  state  of  the  Bastille,  gar- 
risoned by  about  one  hundred  Swiss  and  In- 
valids, and  without  provisions  even  for  that 
small  number ;  the  absolute  inaction  of  the 
Baron  de  Bezenval,  who, — without  entan- 
gling his  troops  in  tlie  narrow  streets,  which 
was  pleaded  as  his  excuse, — niight,  by 
marching  along  the  Boulevards,  a  passage 
so  well  calculated  for  the  manoeuvres  of 
regular  troops,  have  relieved  the  siege  of 
that  fortress  f  and,  finally,  that  General's 
bloodless  retreat  from  Paris, — show  that  the 
King  had,  under  all  these  circumstances, 
not  only  adopted  no  measures  of  a  hostile 
character,  but  must,  on  the  contrary,  have 
issued  such  orders  as  prevented  his  officers 
from  repelling  force  by  force. 

We  are  led,  therefore,  to  believe,  that 
the  scheme  of  assembling  the  troops  round" 
Paris  was  one  of  those  half  measures,  to 
which,  with  great  political  weakness,  Louis 
resorted  more  than  once — an  attempt  to  in- 
timidate by  the  demonstration  of  force, 
which  he  was  previously  resolved  not  to 
use.  Had  his  purposes  of  aggression  been 
serious,  five  thousand  troops  of  loyal  prin- 
ciples— and  such  might  surely  have  been 
selected — would,  acting  suddenly  and  ener- 
getically, have  better  assured  him  of  the 
city  of  Palis,  than  six  times  that  number 
brought  to  waste  themselves  in  debauch 
around  its  walls,  and  to  be  withdrawn  with- 
out the  discharge  of  a  musket.  Indeed, 
the  courage  of  Louis  was  of  a  passive,  not 
an  active  nature,  conspicuous  in  enduring 
adversity,  but  not  of  that  energetic  and  de- 
cisive character  which  turns  dubious  affairs 
into  prosperity,  and  achieves  by  its  own  ex- 
ertions the  success  which  Fortune  denies. 

The  insurrection  of  Paris  being  acquies- 
ced in  by  the  sovereign,  was  recognized  by 
tlie  nation  as  a  legitimate  conquest,  instead 
of  a  state  crime  ;  and  the  tameness  of  the 
King  in  enduring  its  violence,  was  assumed 
as  a  proof  that  the  citizens  had  but  antici- 
pated his  intended  forcible  measures  against 
the  Assembly,  and  prevented  the  military 
occupation  of  the  city.  In  the  debates  of 
the  Assembly  itself,    the  insurrection  wa» 


*  We  Iiave  lieaid  from  a  spectator  who  coul<]  be 
trusted,  that,  during  the  course  of  the  attack  on 
thy  Bastille,  a  cry  arose  among  tlie  crowd  that  the 
rosiment  of  Royales  .A.Ilemandes  were  coining  upon 
thei;i.  There  was  at  that  moment  such  a  disposi- 
tion to  fly,  as  plainly  showed  what  would  have 
been  the  effect  had  a  body  of  troops  appeared  ia 
reality.  The  Baron  de  Bezenval  had  commanded 
a  body  oi  the  guards,  when,  some  weeks  prcvious- 
Iv,  they  subiiued  an  insurrection  in  the  Fauxboiiry 
St.  Antoine.  On  that  occasion  many  of  the  rnob 
weie  killed  ;  and  he  observes  in  his  Memoirs,  that, 
while  the  cili/.'is  of  Paris  termed  him  their  pre- 
serve;-, he  was  very  coldly  recc:  .1  at  court.  Me 
might  be,  therefore,  unwilling  to  commit  hinsel^ 
t^'  acting  decidedly  on  the  12th  July 


58 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[CA<g>.  IV. 


Tindicated  ;  the  fears  and  suspicions  alleg- 
ed as  its  motives  were  justified  as  well- 
founded  ;  the  passions  of  the  citizens  were 
sympathized  with,  and  their  worst  excesses 
palliated  and  excused.  When  the  horrors 
accompanying  the  murder  of  Berthier  and 
Foulon  were  dilated  upon  by  Lally  Tolen- 
dahl  in  the  Assembly,  he  was  heard  and  an- 
swered as  if  he  had  made  mountains  of 
mole-hills.  Mirabeau  said,  that  "  it  was  a 
time  to  think,  and  not  to  feel."  Barnave 
asked,  with  a  sneer,  "  If  the  blood  which 
had  been  shed  was  so  pure  V  Robespierre, 
rising  into  animation  witli  acts  of  cruelty 
fitted  to  call  forth  the  interest  of  such  a 
mind,  observed,  that  "  the  people,  oppress- 
ed for  ages,  had  a  right  to  the  revenge  of  a 
day." 

But  how  long  did  that  day  last,  or  what 
was  the  fate  of  those  who  justified  its  enor- 
mities ?  From  that  hour  the  mob  of  Paris, 
or  rather  the  suborned  agitators  by  whom 
the  actions  of  that  blind  multitude  were 
dictated,  became  masters  of  the  destiny  of 
France.  An  insurrection  was  organized 
whenever  there  was  any  purpose  to  be  car- 
ried, and  the  Assembly  might  be  said  to 
work  under  the  impulse  of  the  popular  cur- 
rent, as  mechanically  as  the  wheel  of  a 
water  engine  is  driven  by  the  cascade. 

The  victory  of  the  Bastille  was  extended 
in  its  consequences  to  the  cabinet  and  to 
the  legislative  body.  In  the  former,  those 
ministers  who  had  counselled  the  King  to 
stand  on  the  defensive  against  the  Assem- 
bly, or  rather  to  assume  a  threatening  atti- 
tude, suddenly  lost  courage  when  they  heard 
the  fate  of  Foulon  and  Berthier.  The  Bar- 
on de  Breteueil,  the  unpopular  successor  of 
Necker,  was  deprived  of  his  office,  and  driv- 
en into  exile  ;  and  to  complete  the  triumph 
of  the  people,  Necker  himself  was  recalled 
by  their  unaniirous  voice. 

The  King  cume,  or  was  conducted  to, 
the  Hotel  de  Ville  of  Paris,  in  what  com- 
pared to  the  triumph  of  the  minister,  was  a 
sort  of  ovation,  in  which  he  appeared  rath- 
er as  a  captive  than  otlierwise.  He  enter- 
ed into  the  edifice  under  a  vault  of  steel, 
formed  by  the  crossed  sabres  and  pikes  of 
those  who  had  been  lately  ensmcred  in  com- 
bating his  soldiers,  and  murdering  his  sub- 
jects. He  adopted  the  cockade  of  the  in- 
surrection ;  and  in  doing  so,  ratified  and 
approved  of  the  acts  done  expressly  acjaiiist 
his  command,  acquiesced  in  the  victory  ob- 
tained over  his  own  authority,  and  co;n- 
pleted  that  conquest  by  laying  down  hij 
arms. 

The  conquest  of  the  Bastille  was  the 
first,  almost  the  only  appeal  to  arms  during 
the  earlier  part  of  tlie  Revolution  ;  and  the 
popular  success,  afterwards  sanctioned  bv 
the  monarch,  showed  that  nothing  remain- 
ed save  the  n-''me  of  the  ancient  government. 
The  King's  younger  brother,  the  (,'omte 
d'Artois,  now  reigning  King  of  France,  had 
been  distinguished  as  tiie  leader  and  rally- 
ing point  of  the  rovalists.  He  left  the  king- 
dom with  his  children,  and  took  refuge  in 
Turin.  Other  dislinguislied  princes,  and 
many  of  the  inferior  nobility,  adopted  the 
same  course,  and  their  departure  seem- 


ed to  announce  to  the  public  that  the  royal 
cause  was  indeed  desperate,  since  it  waa 
deserted  by  those  most  interested  in  its  de- 
fence. This  was  the  first  act  of  general 
emigration,  and  although  in  the  circumstan- 
ces it  may  be  excused,  yet  it  must  still  be 
termed  a  great  political  error.  For  though, 
on  the  one  hand,  it  is  to  be  considered,  that 
these  princes  and  their  followers  had  been 
educated  in  the  belief  tliat  the  government 
of  France  rested  in  the  King's  person,  and 
was  identified  with  him  ;  and  that  when 
the  King  was  displaced  from  his  permanent 
situation  of  power,  the  whole  social  system 
of  France  was  totally  ruined,  -and  nothing 
remained  which  could  legally  govern  or  be 
governed  ;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must 
be  remembered  that  the  instant  the  emi- 
grants crossed  the  frontier,  they  at  once 
lost  all  the  natural  advantages  of  birth  and 
education,  and  separated  themselves  from 
the  country  which  it  was  their  duty  to  de- 
fend. 

To  draw  to  a  head,  and  raise  an  insurrec- 
tion for  the  purpose  of  achieving  a  counter 
revolution,  would  have  been  the  ready  and 
naturzd  resource.  But  the  influence  of  the 
privileged  classes  was  so  totally  destroyed, 
that  the  scheme  seemed  to  have  been  con- 
sidered as  hopeless,  even  if  the  King's  con- 
sent could  have  been  obtained.  To  remain 
in  France,  whether  in  Paris  or  the  depart- 
ments, must  have  exposed  them,  in  their 
avowed  character  of  aristocrats,  to  abso- 
lute assassination.  It  has  been  therefore 
urged,  that  emigration  was  their  only  re- 
source. 

But  there  remained  for  these  princes; 
nobles,  and  cavaliers,  a  more  noble  task, 
could  they  but  have  united  themselves  cor- 
dially to  that  portion  of  the  Assembly,  ori- 
ginally a  strong  one,  which  professed,  with- 
out destroyir^  the  existing  state  of  mon- 
archy in  France,  to  wish  to  infuse  into  it 
the  spirit  of  rational  liberty,  and  to  place 
Louis  in  such  a  situation  as  should  have 
insured  him  the  safe  and  honourable  station 
of  a  limited  monarch,  though  it  deprived 
him  of  the  powers  of  a  despot.  It  is  in 
politics,  however,  as  in  religion — the  slight- 
er in  itself  the  difference  betwen  two  par- 
ties, the  more  tejiacious  is  each  of  the 
propositions  in  which  they  disagree.  The 
pure  Royalists  were  so  far  from  being  dis- 
posed to  coalesce  with  those  who  had  blend- 
ed an  attachment  to  monarchy  with  a  love  of 
liberty,  that  they  scarce  accounted  them  fit 
to  share  the  dangers  and  distresses  to  which 
all  were  alike  reduced. 

This  first  emigration  proceeded  not  a  lit- 
tle perhaps  on  the  feeling  of  self-conse- 
quence among  those  by  wiiom  it  was  adopt- 
ed. The  high-born  nobles  of  which  it  wa« 
chiefly  composed,  had  been  long  th« 
WORLD,  as  it  is  termed,  to  Paris  and  to 
each  other,  and  it  was  a  natural  conclusion, 
that  their  withdrawing  themselves  from 
the  sphere  which  they  adorned,  n^ust 
have  been  felt  as  an  irremediable  depriva- 
tion. They  were  not  aware  liow  easily,  in 
the  ho'ir  of  need,  perfumed  hunps  are,  to 
all  purposes  of  utility,  replaced  by  ordina- 
ry  candles,  and   that,  carrying  away   wit^ 


Chap.  IV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


59 


them  much  of  dignity,  gallantry,  and  grace, 
they  left  behind  an  ample  stock  of  wisdom 
and  valour,  and  all  the  other  essential  qual- 
ities by  which  nations  are  governed  and  de- 
fended. 

The  situation  and  negotiations  of  the  em- 
igrants in  the  courts  to  which  they  fled, 
were  also  prejudicial  to  their  own  reputa- 
tion, and  consequently  to  the  royal  cause, 
to  which  they  had  sacrificed  their  country. 
Reduced  "  to  show  their  misery  in  foreign 
lands,"  they  were  naturally  desirous  of  ob- 
taining foreign  aid  to  return  to  their  own, 
and  laid  themselves  under  a  very  heavy  ac- 
cusation of  instigating  a  civil  war,  while 
Louis  was  yet  the  resigned,  if  not  tlie  con- 
tented, sovereign  of  the  newly  modified 
empire.  To  this  subject  we  must  after- 
wards return. 

The  conviction  that  the  ancient  monarchy 
of  France  had  fallen  forever,  gave  cncour- 
etgement  to  the  numerous  parties  which 
united  in  desiring  a  new  constitution,  al- 
though they  differed  on  the  principles  on 
which  it  was  to  be  founded.  But  all  agreed 
that  it  was  necessary,  in  the  first  place,  to 
clear  away  the  remains  of  the  ancient  state 
of  things.  They  resolved  upon  the  aboli- 
tion of  all  feudal  rights,  and  managed  the 
matter  with  so  much  address  that  it  was 
made  to  appear  on  the  part  of  those  who 
held  them  a  voluntary  surrender.  The  de- 
bate in  the  National  .\ssembly*  was  turned 
by  the  popular  leaders  upon  the  odious 
character  of  the  feudal  rights  and  privileg- 
es, as  being  the  chief  cause  of  the  general 
depressiou  and  discontent  in  which  tlie 
kingdom  was  involved.  The  Nobles  un- 
derstood the  hint  which  was  thus  given 
them,  and  answered  it  with  the  ready  cour- 
age and  generosity  which  has  been  at  all 
times  the  attribute  of  their  order,  though 
sometimes  these  noble  qualities  have  been 
indiscreetly  exercised.  "  Is  it  from  us  per- 
sonally that  the  nation  expects  sacrifices  ?"■ 
said  the  Marquis  de  Foucaull ;  ''  be  assur- 
ed that  you  shall  not  appeal  in  vain  to  our 
generosity.  We  are  desirous  to  defend  to 
the  last  the  rights  of  the  monarchy,  but  we 
can  be  lavish  of  our  peculiar  and  personal 
interests." 

The  same  general  sentiment  pervaded  at 
once  the  Clergy  and  Nobles,  who,  suffi- 
ciently sensible  that  what  they  resigned 
could  not  operate  essentially  to  the  quiet 
of  the  state,  were  yet  too  proud  to  have 
even  the  appearance  of  placing  their  own 
selfish  interests  in  competition  with  the 
public  welfare.  The  whole  privileged 
classes  seemed  at  once  seized  with  a  spirit 
of  the  most  lavish  generosity,  and  hastened 
to  despoil  themselves  of  all  their  peculiar 
immunities  and  feudal  rights.  Clergy  and 
laymen  vied  with  each  other  in  the  nature 
and  extent  of  their  sacrifices.  Privi!r';lfis, 
■whether  prejudicial  or  harmless,  ratioail  or 
ridiculous,  were  renounced  in  the  mass. 
A  sort  of  delirium  pervaded  t)ie  .Vsseinbly  ; 
e»ch  member  strove  to  distinguish  the  sac- 
rifice of  his  personal  claims  by  something 
Store  remarkable  than  had  yet  attended  any 

*  4th  August,  1789. 


of  the  previous  renunciations.  They  who 
had  no  rights  of  their  own  to  resign,  had 
the  easier  and  more  pleasant  task  of  sur- 
rendering those  of  their  constituents :  the 
privileges  of  corporations,  the  monopolies 
of  crafts,  the  rights  of  cities,  were  heaped 
on  the  national  altar  :  and  the  members  of 
the  National  Assembly  seemed  to  look 
about  in  ecstacy,  to  consider  o£  what  else 
they  could  despoil  themselves  and  others^ 
as  if,  like  the  silly  old  earl  in  the  civil  dis- 
sensions of  England,  there  had  been  an  ac- 
tual pleasure  in  the  act  of  renouncing.* 
The  feudal  rights  were  in  many  instances 
odious,  in  others  oppressive,  and  in  others 
ridiculous  ;  but  it  was  ominous  to  see  the 
institutions  of  ages  overthrown  at  random, 
by  a  set  of  men  talking  and  raving  all  at 
once,  so  as  to  verify  the  observation  of  the 
Englishman,  Williams,  one  of  their  own 
members,  •'  The  fools  I  they  would  be 
thought  to  deliberate,  when  they  cannot 
even  listen."  The  singular  occasion  on 
which  enthusiasm,  false  shame,  and  mutual 
emulation,  thus  ieduced  the  Nobles  and 
Clergy  to  despoil  themselves  of  all  their 
seigniorial  rights,  was  called  by  some  the 
day  of  the  sacrifices,  by  others,  more  truly, 
the  day  of  the  dupes 

During  the  currency  of  this  legislative 
frenzy,  as  it  might  be  termed,  the  popular 
party,  with  countenances  affecting  humil- 
ity and  shame  at  having  nothing  them- 
selves to  surrender,  sat  praising  each  new 
sacrifice,  as  the  wily  companions  of  a 
thoughtless  and  generous  young  man  ap- 
plaud the  lavish  expense  by  which  thev 
themselves  profit,  while  their  seeming  ad- 
miration is  an  incentive  to  new  acts  of  ex- 
travajance. 

At  length,  when  the  sacrifice  seemed  com- 
plete, they  began  to  pause  and  look  around 
them.  h>ome  one  thought  of  the  separate 
distinctions  of  the  provinces  of  France,  as 
Normandy,  Languedoc,  and  so  forth.  Most 
of  these  provinces  possessed  rights  and 
privileges  acquired  by  victory  or  treaty, 
which  even  Richelieu  had  not  dared  to  vi^ 
olate.  As  soon  as  mentioned,  they  were  at 
once  thrown  into  the  revolutionary  smelt- 
ing-pot,  to  be  re-modelled  after  the  univer- 
sal equality  which  was  the  fashion  of  th''^ 
d,iy.  It  was  not  urged,  and  would  not  have 
been  listened  to,  that  these  rights  had  been 
bought  with  blood,  and  sanctioned  by  pub- 
lic faith  ;  ihat  the  legislature,  though  it  had 
a  right  to  extend  them  to  others,  could  not 
I  t-.ike  them  from  the  possessors  without  com- 
pensation ;  and  it  escaped  the  .\ssembly  no 
less,  how  many  honest  and  generous  senti-- 

j  *  "  Is  there  nothing  else  we  can  renounce  .'"  said 
the  olii  Earl  of  Pemliroke  and  Montgomery,  in  tlie 
time  of  the  Commonwealth,  after  he  had  joined  in 
renouncing  Church  and  King,  Crown  and  Law 
"  Cat)  no  one  think  of  any  thing  else  ?  I  love  re- 
:founci}fa."  The  hasty  renunciations  of  tho 
French  cohles  and  churchmen  were  brought  abjin 
in  the  manner  practised  of  yore  in  convivial  par- 
liex,  when  he  who  gave  a  toast  burned  his  »i;j, 
had  a  loose  tooth  drawn,  or  rriade  some  other  ?ac^ 
ritice,  wliich,  according  to  the  laws  of  compota- 
tion,  was  an  example  necessary  to  be  imitated  by 
all  the  rest  of  the  company,  with  whatever  prejw 
dice  to  their  wardrobe  or  their  persoiu. 


60 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  IV. 


menta  are  connected  with  eudh  provincial 
distinctions,  which  form,  as  it  were,  a  sec- 
ond and  inner  fence  around  the  love  of  a 
common  country  ;  or  how  much  harmless 
enjoyment  the  poor  man  derives  from  the 
consciousness  that  he  shares  the  privileges 
of  some  peculiar  district.  Such  considera- 
tions might  have  induced  the  legislature 
to  pause  at  least,  after  they  had  removed 
such  marks  of  distinction  as  tended  to  en- 
gender jealousy  betwixt  inhabitants  of  the 
same  kingdom.  Bnt  the  revolutiouary  lev- 
el was  to  be  passed  over  all  that  tended  to 
distinguish  one  district,  or  one  individual, 
from  another. 

There  was  one  order  in  the  kingdom 
which,  although  it  had  joined  largely  and 
readily  in  the  sacrifices  of  ihe  day  of  dupes, 
was  still  considered  as  indebted  to  the 
state,  and  was  doomed  to  undergo  an  act  of 
total  spoliation.  The  Clergy  had  agreed, 
and  the  Assembly  .had  decreed,  on  4th  Au- 
gust, that  the  tithes  should  be  declared  re- 
deemable, at  a  moderate  price,  by  the  pro- 
prietors subject  to  payjthem.  This  regula- 
tion ratified,  at  least,  the  legality  of  the 
Clergy's  title.*  Nevertheless,  in  violation 
of  the  public  faith  thus  pledged,  the  Assem- 
bly, three  days  afterwards,  pretended  that 
the  surrender  of  tithes  had  been  absolute, 
and  that,  in  lieu  of  that  supposed  revenue, 
the  nation  was  only  bound  to  provide  de- 
cently for  the  administration  of  divine  wor- 
ship. Even  the  Abb6  Sieyes  on  this  occa- 
sion deserted  the  revolutionary  party,  and 
made  an  admirable  speech  against  this  ini- 
quitous measure.  "  You  would  be  free," 
he  exclaimed,  with  vehemence,  ''  and  you 
know  not  how  to  be  ju&t !"  A  curate  in  the 
Assembly,  recalling  to  mind  the  solemn  in- 
vocation by  which  the  Tiers  Etat  had  call- 
ed upon  the  clergy  to  unite  with  tliem,  ask- 
ed, with  similar  energy,  "  Was  it  to  rob  us, 
that  you  invited  us  to  join  with  you  in  the 
name  of  the  God  of  Peace?"  JViirabcau, 
on  the  other  hand,  forgot  the  vehemence 
with  v/hich  he  had  pleaded  the  right  of 
property  inherent  in  religious  bodies,  and 
lent  his  sophistry  to  defend  •.vbat  his  own 
reasoning  had  proved  in  a  similar  case  to 
be  indefensible.  The  complaint.';  of  the 
Clergy  were  listened  to  /in  contemptuous 
silence,  or  replied  to  v.ith  bitter  irony,  by 
those  who  were  conscious  hov  little  sym- 
pathy that  body  were  likely  to  meet  from 
the  nation  in  general,  asd  who  therefore 
spoke  "  as  having  power  to  do  wrong." 

We  must  now  revert  to  the  condition  of 
the  kingdom  of  France  at  large,  while  her 
ancient  institutions  were  crumbling  to  pie- 
*  ces  of  themselves,  or  were  forcibly  pullod 
down  by  state  innovators.  That  .'ine  coiin- 
try  was  ravaged  by  a  oivil  war  of  aggravat- 
ed horrors,  waged  betwixt  the  rich  and 
poor,  and  piaiked  by  every  species  of  bru- 
tal violence.  The  peii^ants,  thei:f  minds 
filled  with  ar  tnousasid  wild  suppos't'ons, 
and  incensed  by  the  general  scarcity  of  pro- 
visions, were  everywhere  in  arms,  and  ev- 
erywhere attacked  the  chateaux  of  their 
Seigntun,  whom  they  v/ere  incited  to  look 
npon  as  enemies  of  the  Revolution,  and 
particularly  of  the  commons.     In  most  in- 


stances they  were  successful,  and  burnt  th4 
dwellings  of  the  nobility,  practising  all  the 
circumstances  of  rage  and  cruelty  to  which 
the  minds  of  barbarians  are  influenced. 
Men  were  murdered  in  presence  of  their 
wives}  wives  and  daughters  violated  before 
the  eyes  of  their  husbands  and  parents ; 
some  were  put  to  death  by  lingering  tor- 
tures; others  by  sudden  and  general  mas- 
sacre. Against  some  of  these  unhappy  gen- 
tlemen, doubtless,  the  peasants  might  haver 
wrongs  to  remember  and  to  avenge  ;  many 
of  them,  however,  had  borne  their  faculties 
so  meekly  that  they  did  not  even  suspect 
the  ill  intentions  of  these  peasants,  until 
their  castles  and  country-seats  kindled 
with  the  general  conflagration,  and  made 
part  of  the  devouring  element  which  raged 
through  the  whole  kingdom. 

What  were  the  National  Assembly  doing 
at  this  dreadful  crisis  .'  They  were  discuss- 
ing the  abstract  doctrines  of  the  rights  of 
man,  instead  of  exacting  from  the  subject 
the  respect  due  to  his  social  duties. 

Yet  a  large  party  in  the  Convention,  and 
who  had  hitherto  led  the  way  in  the  paths 
of  the  Revolution,  now  conceived  that  the 
goal  was  attained,  and  that  it  was  time  to 
use  the  curb  and  forbear  the  spur.  Such 
was  tne  opinion  of  La  Fayette  and  his  fol- 
lowers, who  considered  the  victory  over 
the  Royalists  as  complete,  and  were  desir- 
ous to  declare  the  Revolution  ended,  and 
erect  a  substantial  form  of  government  on 
the  ruins  of  monarchy,  which  lay  prostrate 
at  their  feet. 

They  had  influence  enough  in  the  As- 
sembly to  procure  a  set  of  resolutions,  de- 
claring the  monarchy  hereditary  in  the  per- 
son of  the  King  and  present  family,  on 
which  basis  they  proceeded  to  erect  what 
might  bp  termed  a  Royal  Democracy,  or,  in 
plainer  terms,  a  Republic,  governed,  in 
truth,  by  a  popular  assembly,  but  encum- 
bered with  tlic  expense  of  a  king,  to  whom 
they  desired  to  leave  no  real  power,  or  free 
will  to  exercise  it,  although  his  name  was 
to  remain  in  the  front  of  edicts,  and  al- 
tiiough  he  was  still  to  be  considered  enti- 
tled to  command  their  armies,  as  the  execu- 
tive authority  of  the  state. 

A  struggle  was  made  to  extend  the  royal 
authority  to  an  absolute  negative  upon  the 
decrees  of  the  representative  body;  and 
though  it  was  limited  by  the  jealousy  of 
the  popular  party  to  a  suspensive  veto  only, 
yet  even  this  degree  of  iniluence  was  sup- 
posed too  dangerous  in  the  hands  of  a  moH- 
arcli  who  had  but  lately  been  absolute. 
There  is  ii.deed  an  eviiient  dilemma  in  the 
formation  of  a  democracy,  with  a  king  for 
its  ostensible  head.  Either  the  monarch 
will  remain  contented  with  his  daily  pa- 
rade and  daily  food,  anil  tlius  play  the  part 
of  a  mere  pageant,  in  which  case  he  is  a 
burthensome  expense  to  the  state,  which  a 
popular  government,  in  prudent  economy, 
as  well  as  from  the  severity  of  principle 
assumed  by  republicans,  are  particularly 
bound  to  avoid ;  or  olae  he  will  naturally 
endeavour  to  improve  the  tli.uiow  and  out- 
j  ward  form  of  power  into  something  like 
I  sinew  and  substance,  and  Uie  democracy 


Chap,   v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOiS  BUONAPARTE. 


61 


will  be  unexpectedly  assailed  with  the 
gpear  which  they  desired  should  be  used 
only  as  their  standard  pole. 

To  these  reasonings  many  of  the  Depu- 
ties would  perhaps  have  answered,  had  they 
spoken  their  real  sentiments,  that  it  was  yet 
too  early  to  propose  to  the  French  a  pure 
republic,  and  that  it  was  necessary  to  ren- 
der the  power  of  the  King  insignilicant,  be- 
fore abolishing  a  title  to  which  the  public 
ear  had  been  so  long  accustomed.  In  the 
iseantimc  they  took  care  to  divest  the 
monarch  of  whatever  protection  lie  miglit 
have  received  from  an  intermediate  senate, 
or  chamber,  placed  betwixt  the  King  and 
the  National  Assembly.  "  One  God,"  ex- 
claimed Rabaut  St.  Etienne,  "  one  Nation, 
one  King,  and  one  Chamber."  This  advo- 
cate for  unity  at  once  and  uniformity, 
would  scarce  have  been  listened  to  if  he 
had  added,   "  one  nose,   one  tongue,   one 


arm,  and  one  eye  ;"  but  his  first  concate- 
nation of  unities  formed  a  phrase  ;  and  aa 
imposing  phrase,  which  sounds  well,  and 
can  easily  be  repeated,  has  immense  force 
in  a  revolution.  The  proposal  for  a  Sec- 
ond or  Upper  Chamber,  whether  heredita- 
ry like  that  of  England,  or  conservative 
like  that  of  America,  was  rejected  as  aris- 
tocratical.  Thus  the  King  of  France  waa 
placed  in  respect  to  the  populace,  as  Ca- 
nute of  old  to  the  advancing  tide — he  was 
eutitled  to  sit  on  his  throne  and  command 
the  waves  to  respect  him,  and  take  the 
chance  of  their  obeying  his  commands,  or 
of  being  overwhelmed  by  them.  If  he  was 
designed  to  be  an  integral  part  of  the  con- 
stitution, this  should  not  have  been — if  he 
was  considered  as  something  that  was  more 
seemly  to  abandon  to  his  fate  than  to  de- 
stroy by  violence,  the  plan  was  not  ill  cod- 
certed. 


CHAP.  V. 

Plan  of  the  Democrats  to  bring  the  King  and  Assembly  to  Paris. — Banquet  of  the 
Gardes  du  Corps. — Riot  at  Paris — A  formidable  Mob  of  Women  assemble  to  march  to 
Versailles — The  National  Guard  refuse  to  act  against  the  Insurgents,  and  demand 
also  to  be  led  to  Versailles — The  Female  Mob  arrive — Their  behaviour  to  the  Assem- 
bly— to  the  King — Alarming  Disorders  at  Nigid — La  Fayette  arrives  with  the  Na- 
tional Gfxcard — Mob  force  the  Palace — Murder  the  Body  Guards — The  Queen's  safety 
endangered — Fayette's  arrival  with  his  Force  restores  Order— King  and  Royal  Fam- 
ily obliged  to  go  to  reside  at  Paris. — Description  of  the  Procession — This  Step 
agreeable  to  the  Views  of  the  Constitutionalists ,  and  of  the  Republicans,  and  of  the 
Anarchists. — Duke  of  Orleans  sent  to  England. 


We  have  mentioned  the  various  restric- 
tions upon  the  royal  authority,  which  had 
been  successively  sanctioned  by  the  Na- 
tional Assembly.  But  the  various  factions, 
all  of  which  tended  to  democracy,  were 
determined  upon  manoeuvres  for  abating 
the  royal  authority,  more  actively  powerful 
than  those  which  the  Assembly  dared  yet 
to  venture  upon.  For  this  purpose,  all 
those  who  desired  to  carry  the  Revolution 
to  extremity,  became  desirous  to  bring  the 
sittings  of  the  National  Assembly  and  the 
residence  of  the  King  within  the  precincts 
of  Paris,  and  to  place  them  under  the  influ- 
ence of  that  popular  frenzy  which  they  had 
80  many  ways  of  exciting,  and  which  might 
exercise  the  authority  of  terror  over  the 
body  of  representatives,  fill  their  galleries 
with  a  wild  and  tumultuous  band  of  parti- 
sans, surround  their  gates  with  an  infuriat- 
ed populace,  and  thus  dictate  the  issue  of 
each  deliberation.  What  fate  was  ret:erved 
for  the  King,  after  incidents  will  sutficient- 
ly  show.  To  effect  an  object  so  important, 
the  republican  party  strained  every  effort, 
and  succeeded  in  raising  the  popular  fer- 
ment to  the  highest  pitch. 

Their  first  efforts  were  unsuccessful.  A 
deputation,  formidable  from  their  numbers 
and  clamorous  violence,  was  about  to  sally 
from  Paris  to  petition,  as  they  called  it,  for 
the  removal  of  the  royal  family  and  Na- 
tional .\ssembly  to  Paris,  but  was  dispersed 
by  the  address  of  La  Fayette  and  Baiili. 
Nevertheless  it  seemed  decreed  that  the 
republicans  should  carry    their    favourite 


measures,  less  through  their  own  proper 
strength,  great  as  that  was,  than  by  the  ad- 
vantage aflforded  by  the  blunders  of  tlie 
royalists.  An  imprudence — it  seems  to  de- 
serve no  harsher  name — which  occurred 
within  the  precincts  of  the  royal  palace  at 
Versailles,  gave  the  demagogues  an  oppor- 
tunity, sooner  probably  than  they  expected, 
of  carrying  their  point  by  a  repetition  of 
the  violences  which  had  already  occurred. 

The  town  of  Versailles  owed  its  splen- 
dour and  wealth  entirely  to  its  being  the 
royal  residence,  yet  abounded  with  a  pop- 
ulation singularly  ill  disposed  towards  the 
King  and  royal  family.  The  National 
Guard  of  the  place,  amounting  to  some 
thousands,  were  animated  by  the  same 
feelings.  There  were  only  about  four  hun- 
dred Gardes  du  Corps,  or  Life-guards,  up- 
on whom  reliance  could  be  placed  for  the 
defence  of  the  royal  family,  in  case  of  any 
popular  (umult  either  in  Versailles  itself, 
or  directed  thither  from  Paris.  These 
troops  consisted  of  gentlemen  of  trust  and 
confidence,  but  their  numbers  were  fe\r 
in  proportion  to  the  extent  of  the  palace, 
and  their  very  quality  rendered  them  ob- 
noxious to  the  people  as  armed  aristocrats. 

About  two-thirds  of  their  number,  to 
avoid  suspicion  and  gain  confidence,  had 
been  removed  to  Rambouillets.  In  thes 
circumstances,  the  grenadiers  of  the  French 
Guards,  so  lately  in  arms  against  the  royai 
authority,  witJi  an  inconsistency  not  unnat- 
ural to  men  of  their  profession,  took  it  into 
their  heads  to  become  zealous  for  recovery 


63 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  V. 


of  the  posts  which  they  had  formerly  occu- 
pied around  the  King's  person,  and  threat- 
ened openly  to  march  to  Versailles  to  take 
possession  of  the  routine  of  duty  at  the  pal- 
ace, a  privilege  which  they  considered  as 
their  due,  notwithstanding  tha<  they  had 
deserted  their  posts  against  the  King's  com- 
mand, and  were  now  about  to  resume  them 
contrary  to  his  consent.  The  regiment  of 
Flanders  was  brought  up  to  Versailles,  to 
prevent  a  movement  fraught  with  so  much 
danger  to  the  royal  family.  The  presence 
of  this  corps  had  been  required  by  the  mu- 
nicipality, and  the  measure  had  been  ac- 
quiesced in  by  the  Assembly,  though  not 
■without  some  expressive  indications  of 
suspicion. 

The  regiment  of  Flanders  arrived  accor- 
dingly, and  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  according 
to  a  custom  universal  in  the  French  garri- 
sons, invited  the  officers  to  an  entertain- 
ment, at  which  the  officers  of  tiie  Swiss 
guards,  and  those  of  the  National  Guards 
of  Versailles,  were  also  guests.  This  ill- 
omened  feast  was  given  in  the  Opera  Hall 
of  the  palace,  almost  within  hearing  of  the 
sovereigns  5  the  healths  of  the  royal  family 
were  drank  with  the  enthusiasm  naturally 
inspired  by  the  situation.  The  King  and 
Queen  imprudently  agreed  to  visit  the 
scene  of  festivity,  carrying  with  them  the 
Dauphin.  Their  presence  raised  the  spirits 
of  the  company,  alreadv  e.xcited  by  wine 
and  music,  to  the  highest  pitch  ;  royalist 
tunes  were  played,  the  white  cockade,  dis- 
tributed by  the  ladies  who  attended  the 
Queen,  was  mounted  with  enthusiasm,  and 
it  is  said  that  of  the  nation  was  trodden 
under  foot. 

If  we  consider  the  cause  of  this  wild 
scene,  it  seems  natural  enough  that  the 
Queen,  timid  as  a  woman,  anxious  as  a  wife 
and  a  mother,  might,  in  order  to  propitiate 
the  favour  of  men  who  were  summoned  ex- 
pressly to  be  the  guard  of  the  royal  family, 
incautiously  have  recourse  to  imitate,  in  a 
slight  degree,  and  towards  one  regiment, 
the  arts  of  conciliation,  which  in  a  much 
grosser  shape  had  been  used  by  the  popular 
party  to  shake  the  fidelity  of  the  whole  ar- 
my. But  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  that 
the  King,  or  ministers,  could  have  hoped, 
by  the  transitory  and  drunken  flash  of  en- 
thusiasm elicited  from  a  few  hundred  men 
during  a  carousal,  to  commence  the  coun- 
ter-revolution, which  they  dared  not  at- 
tempt when  they  had  at  their  command 
thirty  thousand  troops,  under  an  experienc- 
ed general. 

But  as  no  false  step  among  the  royalists 
remained  unimproved  by  their  adversaries, 
tlie  military  feast  of  \'ersailles  was  present- 
ed to  the  people  of  Paris  under  a  light  very 
different  from  that  in  which  it  must  be 
Tiewed  by  posterity.  The  Jacobins  were 
the  first  to  sound  the  alarm  through  all 
their  clubs  and  societies,  and  the  hundreds 
of  hundreds  of  popular  orators  whom  tlicv 
had  at  their  command,  excited  the  citizens 
by  descriptions  of  ihe  m  1st  dreadful  pints, 
fraught  with  massacres  and  proscriptions. 
Every  effort  had  already  been  used  to  heat 
the  popular  mind  againsi  the   King  and 


Queen,  whom,  in  allusion  to  the  obnoxious 
power  granted  to  them  by  the  law,  they 
had  of  late  learned  to  curse  and  insult,  un- 
der the  names  of  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Veto.  The  King  had  recently  delayed 
yielding  his  sanction  to  the  declarations  of 
the  Rights  of  Man.  until  the  Constitution 
was  complete.  This  had  been  severely 
censured  by  the  Assembly,  who  spoke  of 
sending  a  deputation  to  extort  his  consent 
to  these  declarations,  before  presenting 
him  with  the  practical  results  which  they 
intended  to  bottom  on  them.  A  dreadful 
scarcity,  amounting  nearly  to  a  famine,  ren- 
dered the  populace  even  more  accessible 
than  usual  to  desperate  counsels.  The 
feasts,  amid  which  the  aristocrats  were 
.epresentcd  as  devising  their  plots, seemed 
an  insult  on  the  public  misery.  When  the 
minds  of  the  lower  orders  were  thus  pre- 
judiced, it  was  no  difficult  matter  to  produce 
an  insurreclion. 

That  of  the  5th  October.  1789,  was  of  a 
singular  description,  tlie  insurgents  being 
chielly  of  the  female  sex.  The  market- 
women.  Dames  aux  Holies,  as  they  are 
called,  half  unsexed  by  the  masculine  na- 
ture of  their  employments,  and  entirely  so 
by  the  ferocity  of  their  manners,  had  figur- 
ed early  in  the  Revolution.  With  these 
were  allied  and  associated  most  of  the 
worthless  and  liarbarous  of  their  own  sex, 
such  disgraceful  specimens  of  humanity  as 
serve  but  to  show  in  what  a  degr^-Jed  state 
it  may  be  found  to  exist.  Females  of  this 
description  began  to  assemble  early  in  the 
morning,  in  larije  groups,  with  the  cries  for 
"bread,"'  which  so  easily  rouse  a  starving 
metropolis.  There  were  obserVk,J  amongst 
them  many  men  disguised  as  Women,  and 
tliey  compelled  all  the  females  tkey  met  to 
go  along  with  them.  They  marched  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville.  broke  boldly  though  sever- 
al squadrons  of  the  National  Guard,  who 
were  drawn  up  in  front  of  that  building  for 
its  defence,  and  were  with  difficulty  dis- 
suaded from  burning  the  records  it  con- 
tained. They  next  seized  a  magazine  of 
arms,  with  three  or  four  pieces  of  cannon, 
and  were  joined  by  a  miscellaneous  rabble, 
armed  with  pikes,  scythes,  and  similar  in- 
struments, who  called  themselves  the  con- 
querors of  the  Bastille.  The  still  increas- 
ing multitude  re-echoed  the  cry  of  ''  Bread, 
bread  I — to  Versailles  !    to  Versailles  I" 

The  National  CJuard  were  now  called 
out  in  force,  but  speedily  showed  their  of- 
ficers that  they  too  were  infected  with  the 
humour  of  the  times,  and  as  much  indispos- 
ed to  subordination  as.  the  mob,  to  disperse 
which  they  were  summoned.  La  Fayette 
put  himself  at  their  iiead,  not  to  give  his 
own,  but  to  receive  their  orders.  They  re- 
fused to  act  against  women,  who,  they  said,, 
were  starving,  and  in  their  turn  demanded 
to  he  led  to  Versailles,  to  dethrone, — such 
was  their  language, — "  the  King,  who  was  a 
driveller,  and  place  the  crown  on  the  head 
of  his  son."  La  Fayette  hesitated,  implor- 
ed, explained  ;  but  he  had  as  yet  to  learn 
th.e  situation  of  a  revolutionary  general. 
''  Is-it  notslransie,"  said  one  of  his  soldiers, 
who  seemed  quite  to  understand  the  milita- 


Chap,  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


63 


ry  relation  of  officer  and  private  on  such 
an  occasion,  "  is  it  not  strange  thai  La  Fay- 
ette pretends  to  command  the  people,  when 
it  is  his  part  to  receive  orders  from  them  V 

Soon  afterwards  an  order  arrived  from 
the  Assembly  of  the  Commune  of  Paris, 
enjoining  the  commandant's  march,  upon 
his  own  report  that  it  was  impossible  to 
withstand  the  will  of  the  people.  He 
marched  accordingly  in  good  order,  and  at 
the  head  of  a  large  force  of  the  National 
Guard,  about  four  or  five  hours  after  the  de- 
parture of  the  mob,  who,  while  he  w-aited 
lu  a  state  of  indecision,  were  already  far 
on  their  way  to  Versailles. 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  King,  or  his 
ministers,  had  any  information  of  these 
hostile  movements.  Assuredly,  there  could 
not  have  been  a  royalist  in  Paris  willing  to 
hazaird  a  horse  or  a  groom  to  carry  such  in- 
telligence where  the  knowledge  of  it  must 
have  been  so  important.  The  leading  mem- 
bers of  the  Assembly,  assembled  at  Ver- 
sailles, were  better  informed.  "These 
gentlemen,''  said  Barbantanne,  looking  at 
the  part  o£  the  hall  where  the  nobles  and 
clergy  usually  sat,  '•  wish  more  light — they 
shall  have  lanterns,*  they  may  rely  upon 
it."  Mirabeau  went  behind  the  chair  of 
Mounier,  the  president.  ••  Paris  is  march- 
ing upon  us,''  he  said. — ■'  I  know  not  what 
you  mean,"  said  Mounier. — '•  Believe  me 
or  not,  ail  Paris  is  marching  upon  us — dis- 
solve the  sitting  " — "  I  never  hurry  the  de- 
liberations," said  Mounier. — '•  Then  feign 
illness,"  said  Mirabeau, — "  go  to  the  pal- 
ace, tell  them  what  I  sa\',  and  give  me  for 
authority.  But  there  is  not  a  minute  to 
lose — Paris  marches  upon  us." — ■'  So  much 
the  better,"  answered  Mounier ;  "  we  will 
iie  a  republic  the  sooner. "t 

Shortly  after  this  singular  dialogue,  oc- 
casioned probably  by  a  sudden  movement, 
in  which  Mirabeau  showed  the  aristocratic 
feelings  from  which  he  never  could  shake 
himself  free,  the  female  battalion,  together 
with  their  masculine  allies,  continued  their 
march  uninterruptedly,  and  entered  Ver- 
sailles in  the  al'ternoon,  singing  patriotic 
airs,  intermingled  with  blasphemous  ob- 
scenities, and  the  most  furious  threats 
against  the  Queen.  Their  first  visit  was  to 
the  National  Assembly,where  the  beating  of 
drums,  shouts,  shrieks,  and  a  hundred  con- 
fused sounds,  interrupted  the  deliberations. 
A  man  called  Mailliard,  brandishing  a 
sword  in  his  hand,  and  supported  by  a  wo- 
man holding  a  long  pole,  to  which  was  at- 


*  In  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution,  when  the 
mob  executed  their  pleasure  on  the  individuab 
againiit  whom  their  saspiciooa  were  directed,  the 
lamp-irons  served  for  gibbets,  and  the  hnes  by 
which  the  lamps  or  lanterns  were  disposed  across 
•he  street,  were  ready  halters  Hence  the  cry  of 
'*  Lis  Aristocratcs  h  la  lanterne."  The  answer 
of  the  .\b!)e  Maury  is  well  known.  *'  Eh  !  wes 
amis,  et  quand  roiis  in'aurez  niU  a  la  lanterne, 
eat  ce  que  couk  verrez  plus  clair  1" 

I  Mounier  must  be  supposed  to  speak  ironically, 
and  in  allasisn,  not  to  his  own  opinions,  but  to 
Mirabeau's  revolutionary  tenets.  Another  ac- 
count of  this  singular  conversation  3tatea  his  an- 
•wer  to  have  been,  "All  the  better.  If  the  mob 
kill  all  of  us — remark,  I  say  all  of  us,  it  will  be 
ttio  batlM  fur  the  country. 


tached  a  tambour de  basque,  commenced  a, 
harangue  in  the  name  of  the  sovereign 
people.  He  announced  that  they  wanted 
bread  ;  that  they  were  convinced  the  min- 
isters were  traitors  ;  that  the  arm  of  the 
people  was  uplifted,  and  about  to  strike  ; — 
with  much  to  the  same  purpose,  in  the  ex- 
aggerated eloquence  of  the  period.  The 
same  sentiments  were  echoed  by  his  fol- 
lowers, mingled  with  the  bitterest  threats, 
against  the  Queen  in  particular,  that  fury 
could  contrive,  expressed  in  language  of 
the  most  energetic  brutality. 

The  Amazons  then  crowded  into  the  As- 
sembly, mixed  themselves  with  the  mem- 
bers, occupied  the  seat  of  the  president,  of 
the  secretaries,  produced  or  procured 
victuals  and  wine,  drank,  sung,  swore, 
scolded,  screamed, — abused  some  of  the 
members,  and  loaded  others  with  their 
loathsome  caresses. 

A  deputation  of  these  madwomen  was  at 
length  sent  to  St.  Priest,  the  minister,  a 
determined  royalist,  who  received  them 
sternly,  and  replied  to  their  demand  of 
bread,  ••  When  you  had  but  one  king,  you 
never  wanted  bread — you  have  now  twelve 
hundred — go  ask  it  of  them."  They  were 
introduced  to  the  King,  however,  and  were 
so  much  struck  with  the  kind  interest 
which  he  took  in  the  state  of  Pairis,  that 
their  hearts  relented  in  his  favour,  and  the 
deputies  returned  to  their  constituents, 
shouting  Vive  le  Roi  ! 

Had  the  tfempest  depended  on  the  mere 
popular  breeze,  it  might  now  have  been  lull- 
ed to  sleep  ;  but  there  was  a  secret  ground- 
swell,  a  heaving  upwards  of  the  bottom  of 
the  abyss,  which  could  not  be  conjured 
down  by  the  awakened  feelings  or  convinc- 
ed understandings  of  the  deputation.  A 
cry  was  raised  that  the  duputies  had  been 
bribed  to  represent  the  King  favourably  ; 
and,  in  this  humour  of  suspicion,  the  army 
of  Amazons  stripped  their  garters,  for  the 
purpose  of  strangling  their  own  delegates. 
They  had  by  this  time  ascertained,  that 
neither  the  National  Guard  of  Versailles, 
nor  the  regiment  of  Flanders,  whose  transi- 
tory loyalty  had  passed  away  with  the  fumes 
of  the  wine  of  the  banquet,  would  oppose 
them  by  force,  and  that  they  had  only  to 
deal  with  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  who  dared 
not  to  act  with  vigour,  lest  they  should  pro- 
voke a  general  attack  on  the  palace,  while 
the  most  complete  distraction  and  indecis- 
ion reigned  within  its  precincts.  Bold  in 
consequence,  the  female  mob  seized  on  the 
exterior  avenues  of  the  palace,  and  threat- 
ened destruction  to  all  within. 

The  attendants  of  the  King  saw  it  ne- 
cessary to  take  measures  for  the  safety  of 
his  person,  but  they  were  marked  by  inde- 
cision and  confusion.  A  force  was  hastily 
gathered  of  two  or  three  hundred  gentle- 
men, who,  it  was  proposed,  should  mount 
the  horses  of  the  royal  stud,  and  escort  the 
King  to  Rambouillet,  out  of  this  scene  of 
confusion.*    The  Gardes  du   Corps,  with 


*  This  was  proposed  by  that  Marquis  de  Favras, 
whose  death  upon  the  gallows  for  a  royalist  plot, 
gave  afterwards  such  exquisite  delight  to  the  citi- 
zens of  Paxid.     Being  the  first  aoao  of  quality 


64 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Ch<9.  V. 


Buch  assistance,  might  certainly  have  forced 
their  way  through  a  mob  of  the  tumultuary 
description  which  surrounded  themj  and 
tlie  escape  of  the  King  from  Versailles, 
under  circumstances  so  critical,  might  have 
had  a  great  efl'ect  in  changing  the  current 
of  popular  feeling.  But  those  opinions 
prevailed,  which  recommended  that  he 
should  abide  the  arrival  of  La  Fayette  with 
the  civic  force  of  Paris. 

It  was  now  night,  and  the  armed  rabble 
of  both  sexes  showed  no  intention  of  de- 
parting or  breaking  up.  Oa  the  contrary, 
they  bivouacked  after  tlieir  ovra  manner 
npon  the  parade,  where  the  soldiers  usually 
mustered.  There  they  kindled  large  iires, 
ate,  drank,  sang,  caroused,  and  occasionally 
discharged  their  fire-arms.  Scuffles  arose 
from  time  to  time,  and  one  or  two  of  the 
Gardes  du  Cot-ps  had  been  killed  and 
wounded  in  the  quarrel,  which  the  rioters 
had  endeavoured  to  fasten  on  them ;  besides 
which,  this  devoted  corps  had  sustained  a 
volley  from  their  late  guests,  the  National 
Guard  of  Versailles.  The  horse  of  a  Garde 
du  Corps,  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  these 
female  demons,  was  killed,  torn  in  pieces, 
and  eaten  half  raw  and  half  roasted.  Eve- 
ry thing  seemed  tending  to  a  general  en- 
gagement, when  late  at  night  the  drums  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  La  Fayette  at  the 
head  of  his  civic  army,  which  moved  slow- 
ly but  in  good  order. 

The  presence  of  this  great  force  seemed 
to  restore  a  portion  of  tranquillity,  though 
no  one  seemed  to  know  with  certainty  how 
it  was  likely  to  act.  La  Fayette  had  an  au- 
dience of  the  King,  explained  the  means  he 
had  adopted  for  the  security  of  the  palace, 
recommended  to  the  inhabitants  to  go  to 
rest,  and  unhappily  set  the  example  by  re- 
tiring himself.  Before  doing  so,  however, 
he  also  visited  the  Assembly,  pledged  him- 
self for  the  safety  of  the  royal  family  and 
the  tranquillity  of  the  night,  and,  with 
some  difficulty,  prevailed  on  the  President 
Mounier  to  adjourn  the  sitting,  which  had 
been  voted  permanent.  He  thus  took  upon 
himselfthe  responsibility  for  the  quiet  of  the 
night.  We  are  loath  to  bring  into  question 
the  worth,  honour,  and  fidelity  of  La  Fay- 
ette ;  and  we  can  therefore  only  lament, 
that  weariness  should  have  so  far  overcome 
him  at  zn  important  crisis,  and  that  he 
should  ha'fe  trusted  to  others  the  execution 
of  those  precautions,  which  were  most 
grossly  neglected. 

A  band  of  the  rioters  found  means  to  pen- 
etrate into  the  palace  about  three  in  the 
morning,  thrc;j_rh  a  gate  which  was  left  un- 
locked ;md  unguarded.  They  rushed  to 
the  Queeu"?  apartment,  and  bore  down  the 
few  Gardes  du  Corps  wlio  hastened  to  her 


whom  lliey  liad  seen  han?'!(l,  (that  puiu.shment 
liiiving  been  hitherto  rosurvoil  for  plebei^in?,)  they 
encorn  I  tho  perfurmance,  and  wouhl  fuin  have 
hung  him  up  a  secnul  time.  The  same  untbrtu- 
nate  gentleman  had  previou.-sly  proposed  to  suture 
tlie  bridge  at  S»>vres  with  a.  hoily  of  cavalry,  which 
would  have  previiiuii  il.e  women  from  advancing 
to  Versailles.  Tlie  CVneen  signed  an  order  for  the 
fcorses  with  this  remarkable  clause, — "  'I'o  be  usted 
it  the  King's  safety  i^;  endangered,  but  in  no  dan- 
{«r  which  affects  mo  uuly." 


defence.  The  sentinel  knocked  at  the 
door  of  her  bed-chamber,  called  to  her  to 
escape,  and  then  gallantly  exposed  himself 
to  the  fury  of  the  murderers.  His  single 
opposition  was  almost  instantly  overcome, 
and  he  himself  left  for  dead.  Over  hie 
bleeding  body  they  forced  their  way  into 
the  Queen's  apartment;  but  their  victim, 
reserved  for  farther  and  worse  woes,  had 
escaped  by  a  secret  passage  into  the  cham- 
ber of  the  King,  while  the  assassins,  burst- 
ing in,  stabbed  the  bed  she  had  just  left  with 
pikes  and  swords.* 

The  Gardes  du  Corp*  assembled  in  what 
was  called  the  Oeil  de  Bccuf,  and  endeav- 
oured there  to  defend  themselves  ;  but 
several,  unable  to  gain  this  place  of  refuge, 
were  dragged  down  into  the  court-yard, 
where  a  wretch,  distinguished  by  a  long 
beard,  a  broad  bloody  axe,  and  a  species  of 
armour  wliich  he  wore  on  his  person,  had 
taken  on  himself,  by  taste  and  choice,  the 
office  of  executioner.  The  strangeness  of 
the  villain's  costume,  the  sanguinary  relish 
witli  which  he  discharged  his  office,  and 
the  hoarse  roar  with  which  from  time  to 
time  he  demanded  new  victims,  made  him 
resemble  some  demon  whom  hell  had  vom- 
ited forth,  to  augment  the  wickedness  aiKt 
horror  of  the  scene. t 

Two  of  the  Gardes  du  Corps  were  al- 
ready beheaded,  and  the  Man  with  the 
Beard  was  clamorous  to  do  his  office  upon 
the  others  who  had  been  taken,  when  La 
Fayette,  roused  from  his  repose,  arrived  at 
the  head  of  a  body  of  grenadiers  of  the  old 
French  guards,  who  had  been  lately  incor- 
porated witli  the  civic  guard,  and  were  pro- 
bably the  most  efficient  part  of  his  force. 
He  did  not  think  of  avenging  the  unfortu- 
nate genthjmen,  who  lay  murdered  befoie 
his  eyes  for  the  discharge  of  their  military 
duty,  but  ho  entreated  his  soldiers  to  save 
him  the  di^^lionour  of  breaking  his  word, 
wliich  he  had  pledged  to  the  King,  that  he 
would  protect  the  Gardes  du  Corps.  It  is 
probable  he  attempted  no  more  than  was  in 

*  One  of  the  most  accredited  calumnies  againrt 
tlie  uiiibrtunate  Marie  Antoinette  pretends,  that 
she  was  on  this  occasion  surprised  in  the  arms  of  a 
paramour.  Buonaparte  is  said  to  have  mentioned 
this  as  a  fact,  upon  the  authority  of  Madame 
Canipan.  VVc  have  now  Madame  Campan's  own 
account,  dcsiribing  tlie  conduct  of  the  (iucen  on 
this  dreadful  occasion  as  that  of  a  heroine,  and 
totally  excluding  the  possibility  of  the  pretended 
anecdote.  15ut  let  it  he  farther  considered,  under 
what  circumstances  the  Queen  was  placed — at  two 
in  the  morning,  retired  to  a  privacy  liable  to  be  in- 
terrupted (as  it  was)  not  only  by  the  irruption  of 
the  furious  banditti  who  surrounded  the  palace, 
demanding  her  life,  but  by  tlie  entrance  of  tha 
King,  or  of  others,  in  whom  circumstances  might 
have  rendered  the  intrusion  duty  ;  and  l"t  it  then 
be  judged  whelher  tlie  dangers  of  tho  moment,  and 
the  risk  of  discovery,  would  not  have  prevented 
Messalina  herself  from  choosing  such  a  time  for  an 
assignation. 

t 'J'he  mijicreant's  real  name  was  Jourdain,  af- 
terwards called  Coupe-tite,  distinguished  in  the 
massacres  of  Avignon.  He  gained  his  bread  by 
sitting  as  an  academy-model  to  painters,  and  for 
that  roasou  cultivated  his  long  beard.  \n  tho  de- 
positions before  the  ("hatelet,  he  is  called  L'hom- 
mriilabarhr, — an  e|>itliet  which  might distinguiah 
the  ogre  or  goblin  of  some  ancient  legend. 


Chap,  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


65 


his  power,  and  so  far  acted  wisely,  if  not 
generously. 

To  redeem  Monsieur  de  la  Fayette's 
pledge,  the  grenadiers  did,  what  they  ought 
to  have  done  in  the  name  of  tiie  King,  the 
law,  the  nation,  and  insulted  humanity, — 
they  cleared,  and  with  perfect  ease,  the 
court  of  the  palace  from  these  bands  of 
murderous  bacchantes,  and  their  male  as- 
sociates. The  instinct  of  ancient  feelings 
was  in  some  degree  awakened  in  the  grena- 
diers. They  experienced  a  sudden  sensa- 
tion of  compassion  and  kindness  for  the 
Garde*  du  Corps,  whose  duty  on  the  royal 
person  they  had  in  former  times  shared. 
There  arose  a  cry  among  them, — "  Let  us 
Bave  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  who  saved  us  at 
Fontenoy."  They  took  them  under  their 
protection,  exchanged  their  caps  with  thcni 
in  sign  of  friendsliip  and  fraternity,  and  a 
tiimult,  which  had  something  of  tlie  char- 
acter of  joy,  succeeded  to  that  v.hich  had 
announced  nothing  but  blood  and  death. 

The  outside  of  the  palace  was  still  be- 
sieged by  the  infuriated  mob,  who  demand- 
ed, with  hideous  cries,  and  exclamations 
the  most  barbarous  and  obscene,  to  see  the 
Austrian,  as  they  called  the  Queen.  The 
unfortunate  Princess  appeared  on  the  bal- 
cony with  one  of  her  children  in  each  hand. 
\  voice  from  the  crowd  called  out,  "  i\o 
children!"  as  if  on  purpose  to  deprive  the 
mother  of  that  appeal  to  humanity,  which 
might  move  the  hardest  heart.  Marie  An- 
toinette, with  1  force  of  mind  wortliy  of 
Maria  Theresa,  her  mother,  pushed  her 
children  back  into  the  room,  and,  turning 
her  face  to  the  tumultuous  multitude,  which 
tossed  and  roared  beneath,  brandishing 
their  pikes  and  guns  with  the  wildest  atti^ 
tudes  of  rage,  the  reviled,  persecuted,  and 
denounced  Queen  stood  before  them,  her 
arms  folded  on  her  bosom,  with  a  noble 
air  of  courageous  resignation.  The  secret 
reason  of  this  summons — the  real  cause  of 
repelling  the  children — could  only  be  to  af- 
ford a  chance  of  some  desperate  hand  among 
the  crowd  executing  the  threats  wliicli  re- 
sounded on  all  sides.  Accordingly,  a  gun 
was  actually  levelled,  but  one  of  the  by- 
standers struck  it  down  ;  for  the  passions 
of  the  mob  had  taken  an  opposite  turn,  and, 
astonished  at  JMa.ie  Antoinette's  noble  pres- 
ence, and  graceful  firmness  of  demeanour, 
there  arose,  almost  in  spite  of  themselves, 
a  general  shout  of  Vive  la  Reine  .'* 

But  if  the  insurgents,  or  rather  those  who 
prompted  them,  missed  their  first  point, 
they  did  not  also  lose  their  second.  A  cry 
arose,  "  To  Paris  !"  at  first  uttered  by  a  soli- 
tary voice,  but  gathering  strength,  until  the 
whole  mr.ltitude  shouted,  "  To  Paris— To 
Paris  !"'  The  cry  of  these  blood-thirsty  bac- 
chanals, such  as  they  had  that  night  shown 
themselves,  was,  it  seems,  considered  as  the 
voice  of  the  people,  and  as  such.  La  Fayette 
neither  remonstrated  himself,  nor  permit- 
ted the  King  to  interpose  a  moment's  delay 
in  yielding  obedience  to  it;  nor  was  any 
measure  taken  to  put  some  appearaiitt>  ev- 
en of  decency  on  the  journey,  or  to  disguise 


*  Memoires  de  ^Ve!)er,  vol.  II.  p.  457 


its  real  character,  of  a  triumphant  proce»> 
sion  of  the  sovereign  people,  after  a  com* 
plete  victory  over  their  no:ninal  monarch- 

The  carriages  of  the  royal  family  were 
placed  in  tht  middle  of  an  immeasurable 
column,  consisting  partly  of  La  Fayette's 
soldiers,  partly  of  the  revolutionary  rabbla 
whose  march  had  preceded  his,  amounting 
to  several  thousand  men  and  women  of 
the  lowest  and  most  desperate  description, 
intermingling  in  groups  amongst  the  bands 
of  French  guards,  and  civic  soldiers,  v/hose 
discipline  could  not  enable  them  to  preserve 
even  a  semblance  of  order.  Thus  they  rush- 
ed along,  howling  their  songs  of  triumph. 
The  harbingers  of  the  march  bore  tha 
two  bloody  heads  of  the  murdered  Gardet 
du  Corps  paraded  on  pikes,  at  the  head  of 
the  column,  as  the  emblems  of  their  pro\w- 
ess  and  success.*  The  rest  of  this  body, 
worn  down  by  fatigue,  most  of  them  de- 
spoiled of  their  arms,  and  many  without 
hats,  anxious  for  the  fate  of  the  royal  fami- 
ly, and  harassed  with  apprehensions  for 
themselves,  were  dragged  like  captives  in 
the  midst  of  the  mob,  while  the  drunken  fe- 
males around  them  bore  aloft  in  triumph 
their  arms,  their  belts,  and  th'=;ir  hats.  Thesa 
wretches,  stained  with  the  blood  in  which 
they  had  bathed  themselves,  were  now  sing^ 
ing  songs,  of  which  the  burthen  bore, — 
'■  \Ve  bring  you  the  baker,  his  wife,  and  the 
little  apprentice  ;"  as  if  the  presence  of  the 
unhappy  royal  family,  with  the  little  power 
they  now  possessed,  had  been  in  itself  a 
charm  against  scarcity.  Some  of  these 
Amazons^  rode  upon  the  cannon,  which 
made  a  lormidable  part  of  the  procession. 
Many  of  them  were  mounted  on  the  horses 
of  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  some  in  mascu- 
line fashion,  others  en  croupe.  All  the 
muskets  and  pikes  which  attended  this  in>- 
mense  cavalcade,  were  garnished,  as  if  in 
triumph,  with  oak  boughs,  and  the  women 
carried  long  poplar  branches  in  their  hands, 
which  gave  the  column,  so  grotesquely 
composed  in  every  respect,  the  appearance 
of  a  moving  grove.  Scarce  a  circumstance 
was  omitted  which  could  render  this  en- 
trance into  the  capital  more  insulting  to  the 
King's  feelings — more  degrading  to  the  roy- 
al dignity. 

.\fter  six  hours  of  dishonour  and  agony, 
the  unfortunate  I<ouis  was  brought  to  tha 
Hotel  de  Ville,  where  Bailli,  then  mayor- 
complimented  him  upon  the  "  beau  jour,'* 
the  •'  splendid  day,"  which  restored  the 
monarch  of  France  to  his  capital;  assured 
him  that  order,  j>eace,  and  all  the  gentler 
virtues,  were  about  to  revive  in  the  coun- 
try under  his  royal  eye,  and  that  the  King 
would  henceforth  become  powerful  through 
the  people,  the  people  happy  through  the 
King  ;  and  "  what  was  truest  of  all,"  that  u 
Henry  IV.  had  entered  Paris  by  means  of 
reconquering  his  people,  Louis  XVL  had 
done  so,  because  his  people  had  reconquer- 


*  It  has  been  said  they  were  l«)rne  iLimcdiately 
before  the  royal  carriage  ;  but  this  is  an  exaggera- 
tion where  exaggeration  is  unnecessary.  Thesa 
bloody  trophies  preceded  the  royal  Ihmily  a  greftl 
way  on  the  march  to  Paris. 


€6 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  V. 


«d  tlieir  King.*  His  wounds  salved  with 
this  lip-comfort,  the  unhappy  and  degraded 
Prince  was  at  length  permitted  to  retire  to 
the  Palace  of  the  Tuilleries,  which,  long  un- 
inhabited, and  almost  unfurnished,  yawned 
upon  him  like  the  tomb  where  alone  he  at 
length  found  repose. 

The  events  of  the  14th  July,  1789,  when 
the  Bastille  was  taken,  formed  the  first  great 
stride  of  the  Revolution,  actively  consider- 
ed. Tliose  of  the  5th  and  Gth  of  October, 
in  tlie  same  year,  which  we  have  detailed 
I  at  length,  as  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the 
I  features  which  it  assumed,  made  the  sec- 
I  ond  grand  phasis.  The  first  had  rendered 
i  the  inhabitants  of  the  metropolis  altogeth- 
er independent  of  their  sovereign,  and  in- 
deed of  any  government  but  that  which 
they  chose  to  submit  to  ;  the  second  de- 
prived the  King  of  that  small  appearance 
of  freedom  which  he  had  hitherto  exercis- 
ed, and  fixed  his  dwelling  in  the  midst  of 
his  metropolis,  independent  and  self-regu- 
lated as  we  have  described  it.  "  It  is  won- 
derful," said  Louis,  "  that  with  such  love 
■of  liberty  on  all  sides,  J  am  the  only  person 
that  is  deemed  totally  unworthy  of  enjoy- 
ing it."  Indeed,  after  the  march  from  Ver- 
eailles,  the  King  could  only  be  considered 
as  the  signet  of  royal  authority,  used  for  at- 
testing public  acts  at  the  pleasure  of  those 
in  whose  custody  he  was  detained,  but 
•without  the  exercise  of  any  free-will  on  his 
own  part. 

All  the  various  parties  found  their  ac- 
count, less  or  more,  in  this  state  of  the  roy- 
al person,  excepting  the  pure  royalists, 
■whose  efTective  power  was  little,  and  their 
comparative  numbers  few.  There  remain- 
ed, indeed,  attached  to  the  person  and  cause 
of  Louis,  a  party  of  those  members,  who, 
being  friends  to  freedom,  were  no  less  so  to 
regulated  monarchy,  and  who  desired  to 
fix  the  throne  on  a  firm  and  determined  ba- 
sis. But  their  numbers  were  daily  thinned, 
and  their  spirits  were  broken.  The  ex- 
cellent Mounier,  and  the  eloquent  Lally 
Tolendahl,  emigrated  after  the  9th  October, 
unable  to  endure  the  repetition  of  such 
ecenes  as  were  then  exhibited.  The  indig- 
nant adieus  of  the  latter  to  the  National 
Assembly,  were  thus  forcibly  expressed  : — 
"  It  is  impossible  for  me,  even  my  physi- 
cal strength  alone  considered,  to  discharge 
my  functions  amid  the  scenes  we  have  wit- 
nessed.— Those  heads  borne  in  trophy  ; 
that  Queen  half  assassinated ;  that  King  drag- 
•  ged  into  Paris  by  troops  of  robbers  and  as- 
1  flassins  ;  the  '  splendid  day'  of  Monsieur 
■•,  Bailli ;  the  jests  of  Barnave,  when  blood 
J  -was  floating  around  us  ;  Mounier  escaping, 
as  if  by  miracle,  from  a  thousand  assassins  ; 
tJiese  are  the  causes  of  my  oath  never  to  en- 


*  Memoires  de  Bailli.  Clioix  de  ses  Lettres  et 
Discours.  The  Mayor  of  Paris,  although  such 
language  must  have  sounded  like  the  most  bitter 
irony,  had  no  choice  of  words  on  the  bth  October, 
1789.  But  if  ho  seriously  termed  that  a  glorious 
day,  what  could  Bailli  complain  of  the  studied  in- 
Bults  and  cruelties  which  he  himself  sustained, 
"when,  in  October,  1792,  the  same  banditti  of  Pa- 
Tis,  who  forced  the  King  from  Versailles,  dragged 
himself  to  death,  with  every  circumstance  of  retin- 
«d  cruelty  and  protracted  insult  ? 


ter  that  den  of  cannibals.  A  man  may  en- 
dure a  single  death  ;  he  may  brave  it  more 
tlian  once,  when  the  loss  of  life  can  be  use- 
ful— but  no  power  under  Heaven  shall  in- 
duce me  to  sutler  a  thousand  tortures  every 
passing  minute — while  I  am  witnessing  the 
progress  of  cruelty — the  triumph  of  guilt — 
which  I  must  witness  without  interrupting 
it.  They  may  proscribe  my  person — they 
may  confiscate  my  fortune — I  will  labour 
the  earth  for  my  bread,  and  I  will  see  them 
no  more." 

The  other  parties  into  which  the  state 
was  divided,  saw  the  events  of  the  5th 
October  with  other  feelings,  and  if  ihey  did 
not  forward,  at  least  found  their  account  in 
them. 

The  Constitutional  party,  or  those  who 
desired  a  democraticaJ  government  with  a 
King  at  its  head,  had  reason  to  hope  that 
Louis,  being  in  Paris,  must  remain  at  their 
absolute  disposal,  separated  from  those  who 
might  advise  counter-revolutionary  steps, 
and  guarded  only  by  national  troops,  em- 
bodied in  the  name,  and  through  the  pow- 
ers, of  the  Revolution.  Every  day,  indeed, 
rendered  Louis  more  dependent  on  La 
Fayette  and  his  friends,  as  the  only  force 
which  remained  to  preserve  order  ;  for  he 
soon  found  it  a  necessary  though  a  cruel 
measure  to  disband  his  faithful  Garde*  du 
Corps,  and  that  perhaps  as  much  with  a 
view  to  their  safety  as  to  his  own. 

The  Constitutional  party  seemed  strong 
both  in  numbers  and  reputation.  La  Fay- 
ette was  commandant  ot  the  National 
Guards,  and  they  looked  up  to  him  vrith 
that  homage  and  veneration  with  which 
young  troops,  and  especially  of  this  de- 
scription, regard  a  leader  of  experience  and 
bravery,  who,  in  accepting  the  command, 
seems  to  share  his  laurels  with  the  citizen 
soldier,  who  has  won  none  of  his  own.  Ba- 
illi was  Mayor  of  Paris,  and,  in  the  height 
of  a  popularity  not  undeserved,  was  so  well 
established  in  the  minds  of  the  better  claaa 
of  citizens,  that,  in  any  other  times  than 
those  in  which  he  lived,  he  might  safely 
have  despised  the  sufirages  of  the  rabble, 
always  to  be  bought,  either  by  largesses  or 
flattery.  The  ConstitutioiKilists  had  also  a 
strong  majority  in  the  Assembly,  where  the 
Republicans  dared  not  yet  throw  ofi"  the 
mask,  and  the  Assembly,  following  the  per- 
son of  ihe  King,  came  also  to  establish  its 
sittings  in  their  stronghold,  the  metropolis. 
They  seemed,  therefore,  to  assume  the  as- 
cendency in  the  first  instance,  after  the  5th 
and  Gth  of  October,  and  to  reap  all  the  first 
fruits  of  the  victory  then  achieved,  though 
by  their  connivance  rather  than  their  active 
co-operation. 

It  is  wonderful,  that,  meaning  still  to  as- 
sign to  the  regal  dignity  a  high  constitu- 
tional situation,  La  Fayette  should  not  have 
exerted  himself  to  preserve  its  dignity  un- 
degraded,  and  to  save  the  honour,  as  he 
certainly  saved  the  lives  of  the  royal  fam- 
ily. Three  reasons  might  prevent  his  doing 
what,  as  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  he  must 
otherwise  at  least  have  attempted.  First, 
although  he  boasted  highly  of  his  influence 
with  the  National  Guard  of  Paris,  it  may 


Chap.  V:\ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


67 


be  doubted  whether  all  his  popularity 
would  have  borne  him  through  in  any  en- 
deavour to  deprive  the  good  people  of  that 
city  of  such  a  treat  as  the  Joyous  Entry  of 
the  6th  of  October,  or  whether  the  civic 
power  would,  even  for  the  immediate  de- 
fence of  the  King's  person,  have  used  ac- 
tual force  against  the  band  of  Amazons  who 
directed  that  memorable  procession.  Sec- 
ondly, La  Fayette  might  fear  the  revival 
of  tiie  fallen  colossus  of  despotism,  more 
than  the  rising  spirit  of  anarchy,  and  thus 
be  induced  to  suppose  that  a  conquest  in 
the  King's  cause  over  a  popular  insurrec- 
tion, might  be  too  active  a  cordial  to  tlie 
drooping  spirits  of  the  Royalists.  And, 
lastly,  the  revolutionary  general,  as  a  poli- 
tician, might  not  be  unwilling  that  the 
King  and  his  consort  should  experience,  in 
their  own  persons,  such  a  specimen  of  pop- 
ular power,  as  might  intimidate  them  from 
further  opposition  to  the  popular  will,  and 
incline  Louis  to  assume  unresistintrly  liis 
diminished  rank  in  the  new  constitution. 

The  Republican  party,  with  belter  reason 
than  the  Constitutionalists,  e.^ulted  in  the 
King's  change  of  residence.  It  relieved 
them  as  well  as  Fayette's  party  from  all 
apprehension  of  Louis  raising  his  standard 
in  the  provinces,  and  taking  the  field  on  liis 
own  account,  like  Charles  of  England  in 
similar  circumstances.  Then  they  already 
foresaw,  that  whenever  the  Constitutional- 
ists should  identify  themselves  with  the 
Crown,  whom  all  parties  had  hitherto  la- 
boured to  represent  as  the  common  enemy, 
they  would  become  proportionally  unpopu- 
lar with  the  people  at  large,  and  lose  pos- 
session of  the  superior  power  as  a  necessa- 
ry consequence.  Aristocrats,  the  only 
class  which  was  sincerely  united  to  the 
Kings  person,  would,  they  might  safely 
predict,  dread  and  distrust  the  Constitu- 
tionalists, while  with  the  democrats,  so  very 
much  the  more  numerous  party,  the  King's 
name,  instead  of  a  tower  of  strength,  as  the 
poet  has  termed  it,  must  be  a  stumbling- 
olock  and  a  rock  of  offence.  They  fore- 
saw, finally,  either  that  the  King  must  re- 
main the  mere  passive  tool  of  the  Consti- 
tutionalists, acting  unresistingly  under  their 
order, — in  which  case  the  office  would  be 
80on  regarded  as  an  i-^ie  cir^d  expensive 
bauble,  without  any  force  or  dignity  of  free- 
will, and  fit  only  to  be  flung  aside  as  an  un- 
necessary incumbrance  on  the  republican 
forms, — or,  in  the  event  of  the  King  at- 
tempting, either  by  force  or  escape,  to 
throw  off  the  yoke  of  tlie  Constitutionalists, 
he  would  equally  furnish  arms  to  the  pure 
democrats  against  his  person  and  office,  as 
the  source  of  danger  to  the  popular  cause. 
Some  of  the  republican  chiefs  had  probably 
expected  a  more  sudden  termination  to  the 
reign  of  Louis  from  an  insurrection  so 
threatening ;  at  least  these  leaders  had  been 
the  first  to  hail  and  to  encourage  the  female 
insurgents,  on  their  arrival  at  Versailles.* 


*  Barnave,  as  well  aa  Mirabcau,  the  RepiiMican 
as  well  as  the  Orleanist,  was  heard  to  excliiini, — 
"  Courage,  brave  Parisians — liberty  for  ever — 
fear  nothing — we  are  for  you  1" — M-imoires  de 
Ferrieres,  Livre  4me. 


But  though  the  issue  of  that  msurrection 
may  have  fallen  short  of  their  hopes,  it 
could  not  but  be  highly  acceptable  to  them 
so  far  as  it  went. 

The  party  of  Orleans  had  hitherto  wrapt 
in  its  dusky  folds  many  of  those  names, 
which  were  afterwards  destined  to  hold 
dreadful  rank  in  the  Revolutionary  history. 
The  prince  whose  name  they  adopted  is 
supposed  to  have  been  animated  partly  by 
a  strong  and  embittered  spirit  of  personal 
Kdtred  rgainst  the  Queen,  and  partly,  as  we 
have  already  said,  by  an  ambitious  desire 
to  supplant  his  kinsman.  He  placed,  ac- 
cording to  general  report,  his  treasures, 
and  all  which  his  credit  could  add  to  them, 
at  the  disposal  of  men,  abounding  in  those 
energetic  talents  which  carry  their  o^vner■ 
forward  in  times  of  public  confusion,  but 
devoid  alike  of  fortune,  character,  and 
principle  ;  who  undertook  to  serve  their 
patron  by  enlisting  in  his  cause  the  olv 
scure  aud  subordinate  agents,  by  whom 
mobs  were  levied,  and  assassins  subsidized- 
It  is  said,  that  the  days  of  the  5th  and  6th 
of  October  were  organized  by  the  secret 
agents  of  Orleans,  and  for  his  advantage  ; 
that  had  the  enterprise  succeeded,  the  King 
would  have  been  deposed,  and  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  proclaimed  Lieutenant-General  of 
the  kingdom,  while  his  revenge  would 
probably  have  been  satiated  with  the 
Queen's  assassination.  He  is  stated  to  have 
skulked  in  disguise  about  the  outskirts  of 
the  scene  when  the  tumult  was  at  the  high- 
est, but  never  to  have  had  courage  to  pre- 
sent himself  boldly  to  the  people,  either  to 
create  a  sensation  by  surprise,  or  to  avail 
himself  of  that  which  his  satellites  had  al- 
ready excited  in  his  favour.*  His  resolu- 
tion having  thus  failed  him  at  the  point 
wliere  it  was  most  necessary,  and  the  tu- 
mult having  ended  without  any  thing  taking 
place  in  his  favour,  the  Duke  of  Orleans 
was  made  a  scape-goat,  and  the  only  one, 
to  atone  for  the  whole  insurrection.  Under 
the  title  of  an  Embassy  to  F.ngland,  he  was 
honourably  exiled  from  his  native  country. 
JNIirabeau  spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  the  ut- 
most contumoly,  as  being  base-minded  as  a 
lackey,  and  totally  unworthy  the  trouble 
which  had  been  taken  on  his  account.  His 
other  adherents  gradually  and  successively 
dropped  away,  in  proportion  as  the  wealth, 
credit,  and  character  of  this  besotted  prince 
rendered  him  incapable  of  maintaining  his 
gratuities  ;  and  they  sailed  henceforth  un- 
der their  own  flag,  in  the  storms  he  had 
fitted  them  to  navigate.  These  were  men 
wlio  had  resolved  to  use  the  revolutionary 
axe  for  cutting  oat  their  own  private  for- 
tunes, and,  little  interesting  themselves 
about  ^Jie  political  principles  which  divided 
the  other  parties  of  the  state,  they  kept  firm 
hold  of  all  the  subordinate  machinery  de- 
spised by  ^he  others  in  the  abstraction  of 
metaphysical  speculation,  but  which  gave 
them  the  exclusive  command  of  the  phys- 
ical force  of  the  mob  of  Paris — Paris,  the 
metropolis  of  France,  and  the  prison-house 
of  her  monarch. 

*  See  the  proceedings  before  the  Chatelet. 


68 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chi^.  VL 


CHAP.  VI. 


La  Fayette  resolves  to  enforce  Order. — A  Baker  is  murdered  by  the  Rabble — One  of 
hi*  Murderers  Executed. — Decree  imposing  Martial  Law  in  case  of  Insurrection.— 
Democrats  supported  by  the  Audience  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Assembly. — Introduction 
of  the  Doctrines  of  Equality — They  are  in  their  exaggerated  Sense  inconsistent  toith 
Human  Nattire  and  the  Progress  of  Society. —  The  Assembly  abolish  Titles  of  Nobil- 
ity, Armorial  Bearings,  and  Phrases  of  Courtesy — Reasoning  on  these  Innovationi, 
— Disorder  of  Finance. — Necker  becomes  unpopular. — Seizure  of  Church-Lands. — 2»- 
fue  of  Assignats. — Necker  leaves  France  i7i  unpopularity. — New  Religioxis  Institu- 
tion.— Oath  imposed  on  the  Clergy — Resisted  by  the  greater  part  of  the  Order — Bad 
Effects  of  the  Innovation — General  View  of  the  Operations  of  the  Con-ttituent  Asseit^ 
bly. — Enthusiasm  of  the  People  for  their  new  Privileges. — Limited  Privileges  of  the 
Croton. — King  is  obliged  to  dissemble — His  Negotiations  with  Mirabeau — With 
Bouille. — Attack  on  the  Palace  of  the  King — Pretented  by  Fayette. — Royalists  eav 
pelled  from  the  Palace  of  the  Tuilleries. — Escape  of  Louis. — He  is  captured  at  Va- 
rennes — Brought  back  to  Paris. — Riot  in  the  Champ  de  Mars — Put  down  by  Military 
Force. — Louis  accepts  the  Constitution. 


La  Fjtette  followed  up  his  victory  over 
the  Duke  of  Orleans  by  some  bold  and  suc- 
cessful attacks  upon  the  revolutionary  right 
of  insurrection,  through  v/hich  the  people 
of  late  had  taken  on  themselves  the  office 
of  judges  at  once  and  executioners.  This 
had  hitherto  been  thought  one  of  the  sacred 
privileges  of  the  Revolution  ;  but,  deter- 
mined to  set  bounds  to  its  farther  progress. 
La  Fayette  resolved  to  restore  the  domin- 
ion of  the  law  over  the  will  of  the  rabble. 

A  large  mob,  in  virtue  of  the  approbation, 
the  indulgence  at  least,  with  which  similar 
frolics  had  been  hitherto  treated,  had  seiz- 
ed upon  and  hanged  an  unhappy  baker,  who 
fell  under  their  resentment  as  a  public  en- 
emy, because  he  sold  bread  dear  when  he 
could  only  purchase  grain  at  an  enormous 
price.  They  varied  the  usual  detail  with 
some  additional  circumstances,  causing  ma- 
ny of  his  brethren  in  trade  to  silute  the 
bloody  head,  which  they  paraded  according 
to  their  wont ;  and  finally,  by  pressing  the 
dead  lips  to  those  of  the  widow,  as  she  lay 
fainting  before  them.  This  done,  and  in 
vhe  full  confidence  of  impunity,  they  ap- 
proached the  hall  of  the  Assembly,  in  order 
to  regale  the  representatives  of  the  people 
with  the  same  edifying  spectacle. 

The  baker  being  neither  an  aristocrat  nor 
nobleman,  the  authorities  ventured  upon 
punishing  the  murder,  without  fearing  the 
charge  of  incivisme.  La  Fayette,  at  the 
head  of  a  detachment  of  the  National  Guards, 
attacked  and  dispersed  the  assassins,  and 
the  active  citizen  who  carried  the  head  was 
tried,  condemned,  and  hanged,  just  as  if 
there  had  been  no  revolution  in  the  king- 
dom. There  was  much  surprise  at  this,  as 
there  had  been  no  such  instance  of  severi- 
ty since  the  day  of  the  Bastille.  This  was 
not  all. 

La  Fayette,  who  may  now  be  considered 
aa  at  the  head  of  affairs,  had  the  influence 
«nd  address  to  gain  from  the  As^mbly  a  de- 
cree, empowering  the  magistracy,  in  case  of 
any  rising,  to  declare  martial  law  by  display- 
ing a  red  flag;  after  which  signal,  those  who 
refused  to  disperse  should  be  dealt  with  as 
open  rebels.  This  edict,  much  to  the  pur- 
pose of  the  British  Riot  Act,  did  not  pass 
without  opposition,  as  it  obviously  tended 
to  give  the  bayonets  of  the  National  Guard 


a  decided  ascendancy  over  the  pikes  and 
clubs  of  the  rabble  of  the  suburbs.  The 
Jacobins,  meaning  the  followers  of  Marat, 
Robespierre,  and  Danton,  and  even  the  Re- 
publicans, or  Brissotines,  had  hitherto  con- 
sidered these  occasional  insurrections  and 
murders  like  affairs  of  posts  in  a  campaign, 
in  which  they  themselves  had  enjoyed  uni- 
formly the  advantage ;  but  while  La  Fay- 
ette was  followed  and  obeyed  by  the  Na^ 
tional  Guard,  men  of  substance,  and  inter- 
ested in  maintaining  order,  it  was  clear  that 
he  had  both  power  and  will  to  stop  in  ftt- 
ture  these  revolutionary  excesses. 

This  important  advantage  in  some  de- 
gree balanced  the  power  which  the  repub- 
lican and  revolutionary  party  had  acquired. 
These  predominated,  as  has  been  already 
said,  in  the  Club  of  Jacobins,  in  which  they 
reviewed  the  debates  of  the  Assembly,  de- 
nouncing at  their  pleasure  those  who  op- 
posed them  j  but  they  had  besides  a  decid- 
ed majority  among  the  daily  attendants  in 
the  tribunes,  who,  regularly  paid  and  sup- 
plied with  food  and  liquors,  filled  the  As- 
sembly with  their  clamours  of  applause  or 
disapprobation,  according  to  the  rules  they 
had  previously  received.  It  is  true,  the 
hired  auditors  gave  their  voices  and  applause 
to  those  who  paid  them,  but  nevertheless 
they  had  party  feelings  of  their  own,  which 
often  dictated  unbought  suffrages,  in  favour 
of  those  who  used  the  most  ex.iggerated 
tone  of  revolutionary  fury.  They  shouted 
with  sincere  and  voluntary  zeal  for  such 
men  as  Marat,  Robespierre,  and  Danton, 
who  yelled  out  for  the  most  bloody  meas- 
ures of  terror  and  proscription,  and  pro- 
claimed war  against  the  nobles  with  the 
same  voice  with  wiiich  they  flattered  the 
lowest  vices  of  the  multitude. 

By  degrees  the  Revolution  appeared  to 
have  assumed  a  different  object  from  that 
for  which  it  was  commenced.  France  had 
obtained  liberty,  the  first,  and  certainly  the 
worthiest  object  which  a  nation  can  desire. 
Each  individual  was  declared  as  free  as  it 
was  possible  for  him  to  be,  retaining  the 
least  respect  to  the  social  compact.  It  is 
true,  the  Frenchman  was  not  practically 
allowed  the  benefit  of  this  freedom  ;  for 
though  the  Rights  of  Man  permitted  the 
citizen  to  go  where  he  would,  yet,  in  prac 


Chap.  V7.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


tice,  he  was  apt  to  find  his  way  to  the  next 
prison  unless  furnished  with  a  municipal 
passport,  or  to  be  murdered  by  the  way, 
if  accused  of  aristocracy.  In  like  manner, 
his  house  was  secure  as  a  castle,  his  prop- 
erty sacred  as  the  ornaments  of  a  temple  ; 
—excepting  against  the  Committee  of  Re- 
search, who  might,  by  their  arbitrary  order, 
break  into  the  one  and  dilapidate  the  oth- 
er at  pleasure.  Still,  however,  the  general 
principle  of  liberty  was  established  in  the 
fullest  metaphysical  extent,  and  it  remain- 
ed to  place  on  as  broad  a  footing  the  sister 
principle  of  Equality. 

To  this  the  attention  of  the  assembly  was 
now  chiefly  directed.  In  the  proper  sense, 
equality  of  rights  and  equality  of  laws,  a 
constitution  which  extends  like  protection 
to  the  lowest  and  the  highest,  are  essential  to 
the  existence  and  to  the  enjoyment  of  free- 
dom. But  to  erect  a  levelling  system  de- 
signed to  place  the  whole  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple on  the  same  footing  as  to  habits,  man- 
ners, tastes,  and  sentiments,  is  a  gross  and 
ridiculous  contradiction  of  the  necessary 
progress  of  society.  It  is  a  fruitless  attempt 
to  wage  war  with  the  laws  of  !Xature.  She 
has  varied  the  face  of  the  world  with  moun- 
tain and  valley,  lake  and  torrent,  forest  and 
champaign,  and  she  has  formed  the  hu- 
man body  in  all  the  different  shapes  and 
complexions  we  behold,  with  all  the  vari- 
ous degrees  of  physical  force  and  weak- 
ness. She  has  avoided  equalitv  in  all  her 
E reductions,  as  she  was  formerly  said  to 
ave  abhorred  a  vacuum  ;  even  in  those  of 
her  works  which  present  the  greatest  appa- 
rent similarity,  exact  equality  does  not  ex- 
ist ;  no  one  leaf  of  a  tree  is  precisely  sim- 
ilar to  another,  and  among  the  countless 
host  of  stars,  each  differs  from  the  other  in 
glory.  But  what  are  these  physical  varie- 
ties to  the  endless  change  exhibited  in  the 
human  character,  with  all  its  various  pas- 
sions, powers,  and  prejudices,  so  artfully 
compounded  in  different  proportions,  that 
it  is  probable  there  has  not  existed,  since 
Adam's  time  to  ours,  an  exact  resemblance 
between  any  two  individuals  ?  .\s  if  this 
were  not  enough,  there  come  to  aid  the 
diversity,  the  elfccts  of  climate,  of  govern- 
ment, of  education,  and  habits  of  life,  all  of 
which  lead  to  endless  modifications  of  the 
individual.  The  inequalities  arising  from 
the  natural  differences  of  talent  and  dis- 
position are  multiplied  beyond  calculation, 
aa  society  increases  in  civilization. 

The  savage  may,  indeed,  boast  a  rude 
species  of  equality  in  some  patriarchal 
tribes,  but  the  wiliest  and  stronijest,  the  best 
hunter,  and  the  bravest  warrior,  soon  lords 
it  over  tlie  rest,  and  becomes  a  king  or  a 
chief.  One  portion  of  the  nation,  from  hap- 
py talents,  or  happy  circumstances,  rises  to 
the  top,  another  sinks,  like  dress,  to  the 
bottom;  a  third  portion  occupies  a  mid 
place  between  thom.  .\s  society  advance?, 
the  difference  of  ranks  advances  witii  ii. 
And  can  it  be  proposed  seriously,  that  any 
other  equality,  ihan  tliat  of  rights,  can  ex- 
ist betsveen  those  who  think  and  those  who 
labour;  those  "whose  talk  is  of  bullocks,'" 
and  those  wboEe  time  permits  them  to 


study  the  paths  of  wisdom  ?  Happy,  indeed, 
is  the  country  and  constitution,  where  those 
distinctions,  which   must  necessarily  exist 
in  every  society,  are  not  separated  by   in- 
surmountable barriers,  but  where  the  most 
distinguished  rank  is  open  to  receive  that 
precious   supply  of   wisdom    and     talent, 
which  so  frequently   elevates    individuals 
from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  classes  j  and 
so  far  as  general  equality  can  be    attained, 
by  each  individual  having  a  fair  right  to  raise 
himself  to  the  situation  which   he  is  quali- 
fied to  occupy,  by  his  talents,  his  merits,  or 
his  wealth,  the  gates  cannot  be  thrown  open 
too  widely.    But  the  attempt  of  the  French 
legislators  was  precisely  the  reverse,  and 
went  to  establish  the  proposed  equality  of 
ranks,  by  depressing  the  upper  classes  into 
the  same  order  with  those  who  occupy  the 
middle  of  society,  while  they  essayed  the 
yet  more   absurd  attempt,   to  crush  down. 
these  last,  by  the  weight  of  legislative  au- 
thority, into  a  level  with  the  lowest  orders, 
— men  whose  education,  if  it  has  not  cor- 
rupted their  hearts,  must  necessarily  have 
j  blunted  tl^eir  feelings,  and  who,  in  a  great 
city   like    Paris,   exchange  the  simplicity 
which  makes  them  respectable  under  more 
favourable  circumstances,  for  the  habitual 
indulgence  of   the   coarsest   and   grossest 
pleasures.     Upon  the  whole,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, that  in   every  state  far  advanced  in 
the  progress  of  civilization,  the  inequality 
of   ranks  is   a   natural   and   necessary   ai- 
tribute.      Philosophy  may   comfort    those 
who  regret  this  necessity,  by  the  assurance 
that   the  portions   of  individual  happiness 
and  misery  are  divided   amongst  high  and 
low  with  a  very  equal  hand ;  and  religion 
assures  us  that  there  is   a  future  state,  in 
which,  with  amended  natures  and  improv- 
ed faculties,  the    vain  distinctions  of  thi» 
world  will   no   longer  subsist.      But  any 
practical  attempt  to  remedy  the  inequality 
of  rank   in    civilized   society  by  forcible 
measures,  may  indeed   degrade  the  upper 
classes,  but  cannot  improve  those  beneath 
them.     Laws  may   deprive  the  gentleman 
of  his  title,  the   man   of  education  of  hi« 
books,  or,  to  use   the   French  illustration, 
the  muscadin  of  his  clothes  ;  but  this  can- 
not make  the  clown  a  man  of  breeding,  or 
give  learning  to  ignorance,  or  decent  attire 
to  the  Sans  Culottes.     Much  will  be  lost  to 
the  grace,  the  information,  and  the  decen- 
cy of  society  in   general,  but  nothing  can 
possibly  be  gained  by  sny  individual.    Nev- 
ertheless, it  was  in  this  absolutely  imprac- 
ticable manner,  that  the  exaggerated   feel- 
ings of  the  French  legislators,  at  this  period 
of  total  change,  undertook  to  equalize  the 
nation  which  they  were  regenerating. 

With  a  view  to  this  great  experiment  up- 
on human  society,  the  Assembly  abolished 
all  titles  of  honour,  all  armorial  bearings, 
and  even  the  insignificant  titles  of  MoiV" 
sieur  and  JNiadame  ;  which,  meaning  noth 
'ngbut  phrases  of  common  courtesy,  yet, 
■svith  other  expresaiuns  of  the  same  Jund, 
serve  to  soften  tlir;  ordinary  intercourse  of 
of  human  life,  and  preserve  that  gentleness 
of  manners  which  the  French,  by  a  happy 
ncime,  were  won;  to  call  La  petit*  moral0 


70 


LIFE  OJ  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VI 


The  first  of  these  abrogations  affected  the 
nobles  in  particular.  In  return  for  their  lib- 
eral and  unlimited  surrender  of  their  es- 
sential powers  and  privileges,  they  were 
now  despoiled  of  their  distinction  and  rank 
in  society ; — as  if   those  who   had  made 

firisoner  and  plundered  a  cavalier,  should, 
ast  of  all,  have  snatched  away  in  derision 
the  plume  from  his  hat.  The  aristocracy 
of  France,  so  long  distinguished  as  the 
flower  of  European  chivalry,  were  now,  so 
far  as  depended  on  the  legislature,  entirely 
abolished.  The  voice  of  the  nation  had 
pronounced  against  them  a  general  sen- 
tence of  degradation,  which,  according  to 
the  feelings  of  the  order,  could  only  be  tlie 
punishment  of  some  foul  and  disgraceful 
crime  ;  and  the  condition  of  the  es-nobles 
might  justly  have  been  described  as  Bo- 
lingbroke  paints  his  own, 

Eating  the  bitter  bread  of  banishment, 
While  you  have  fed  ujioii  my  seigniories, 
Dispark'd  my  parks,  and  iell'd  my  forest  woods, 
»     From  my  own  winduws  torn  my  liousehold  coat, 
Razed  out  my  impress,  leaving  me  no  sign. 
Save  men's  opinions  and  my  living  blood, 
To  show  the  world  I  was  a  gentleman. 

It  was  a  fatal  error,  that,  in  search  of 
that  equality  which  it  is  impossible  to  at- 
tain, the  .\ssembly  sliould  ha\'e  torn  down 
the  ancient  institutions  of  chivalry.  View- 
ing them  philosophically,  they  are  indeed 
of  little  value  ;  but  where  are  the  advan- 
tages beyond  the  means,  first,  of  mere  sub- 
sistence, secondly,  of  information,  which 
ought  not  to  be  inditferjnt  to  true  philoso- 
phers ?  And  yet,  where  exists  the  true  phi- 
losopher, who  has  been  able  effectually  to 
detach  himself  from  the  common  mode  of 
thinking  on  such  subjects  ?  The  estimation 
Bet  upon  birth  or  rank,  supposing  its  foun- 
dation illusory,  has  still  the  advantage  of 
counterbalancing  that  which  is  attracted  by 
wealth  only  ;  the  prejudice  has  something 
generous  and  noble  in  it,  is  connected  with 
historical  recollections  and  patriotic  feel- 
ings, and  if  it  sometimes  gives  rise  to  extrav- 
agances, they  are  such  as  society  can  re- 
strain and  punish  by  the  mere  etfectof  rid- 
icule. It  is  curious,  even  in  the  midst  of 
the  Revolution,  and  amongst  those  who 
were  its  greatest  favourers,  what  difficul- 
ties were  found  to  emancipate  themselves 
from  those  ancient  prejudices  which  affect- 
ed the  dilFerence  of  ranks.* 

As  for  the  proscription  of  the  phraseology 
of  civilized  society,  it  had  an  absurd  appear- 
■nce  of  afi'ectation  in  the  eyes  of  most  peo- 
ple of  understanding  •,  but  on  some  enthusi- 
astic minds  it  produced  a  worse  effect  than 
tlxit  of  mere  disgust.  Let  a  man  place  him- 
»elf  in  the  attitude  of  fear  or  of  raj^e,  and 
ke  will  in  some  measure  feel  the  passion 


•  The  Comte  de  Mirabeau  was  furious  at  being 
■aJled  Hiqactti  Paine,  and  said,  with  great  bitter- 
nej)3,  when  his  speeches  were  promulgated  under 
that  name,  "  jjrec  votrc  Riq-uetti,  cous  avci  drso- 
riente  I'  Kurope  pour  troif  juum."  Mirabeau  was 
at  heart  an  aristocrat.  But  what  shall  we  say  of 
Citoyennc  Rohind,  who  piques  herself  on  tlio  ple- 
beian sound  of  her  name,  .^lanim  Phdipon^  yet  in- 
einsequeiitis,l!y  upbraids  Citoyen  Pache  with  his 
fathers  hav'ng  been  a  porter ! 


arise  in  his  mind  which  corresponds  with 
the  gesture  he  has  assumed.  In  like  man- 
ner, those  who  affected  the  brutal  manners, 
coarse  language,  and  slovenly  dress  of  the 
lower  orders,  familiarized  their  imagina- 
tions with  the  violent  and  savage  thoughts 
and  actions  proper  to  the  class  whose  cos- 
tume they  had  thus  adopted.  Above  all, 
when  this  sacrifice  was  made  to  the  very 
taste  and  phraseology  of  that  class,  (the 
last  points  in  which  one  would  think  them 
deserving  of  imitation.)  it  appeared  to  inti- 
mate the  progressive  strength  of  the  revo- 
lutionary tide,  which,  sweeping  before  it  all 
distinctions,  trivial  as  well  as  important, 
seemed  soon  destined  to  overthrow  the 
throne,  now  isolated  and  well  nigh  unde- 
fended. The  next  step  was  necessarily  to 
fix  the  executive  government  in  the  same 
body  which  enjoyed  the  powers  of  legisla- 
tion,— the  surest  of  all  roads  to  tyranny. 
But  although  the  doctrine  of  equality,  thus 
understood,  is  absurd  in  theory  and  impos- 
sible in  practice,  yet  it  will  always  find 
willing  listeners  when  preached  to  the  low- 
er classes,  whose  practical  view  of  it  re- 
sults into  an  agrarian  law,  or  a  general  di- 
vision of  property. 

There  was  one  order  yet  remained,  how- 
ever, which  was  to  'be  levelled, — the  de- 
struction of  the  Church  was  still  to  be  ac- 
complished ;  and  the  Republican  party  pro- 
ceeded in  the  work  of  demolition  with  in- 
finite address,  by  including  the  great  object 
in  a  plan  for  restoring  finance,  and  provid- 
ing for  the  expenses  of  the  state,  without 
imposing  further  burthens  on  the  people. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that  the  States- 
general  had  been  summoned  to  restore  the 
finances  of  the  country.  This  was  the 
cause  of  their  convocation.  But  although 
they  had  exercised  almost  every  species  of 
power — had  thrown  down  and  rebuilt  every 
conetituted  authority  in  the  kingdom,  still 
the  finances  were  as  much  embarrassed  as 
ever,  or  much  more  so  ;  since  most  men  in 
France  judged  the  privilege  of  refusing  to 
pay  taxes,  the  most  unequivocal,  and  not 
the  least  pleasing  part,  of  their  newly-a»- 
quired  freedom. 

Necker,  so  often  received  among  the 
populace  as  a  saviour  of  the  country,  was 
here  totally  at  a  loss.  The  whole  relative 
associations  which  bind  men  together  in 
the  social  contract,  seemed  to  be  rent 
asunder ;  and  where  public  credit  is  de- 
stroyed, a  financier,  however  able,  resem- 
bles Prospero,  after  his  wand  is  broken, 
and  his  book  sunk  in  the  deep  sea.  Accor- 
dinglv,  TVecker  in  vain  importuned  the  As- 
sembly, by  representing  the  pressure  of  tlw 
finances.  They  became  wearied  with  his 
reninnstrauces.  and  received  them  with 
manifest  synip'.oms  of  coldness  and  disp©- 
spect.  What  service,  indeed,  could  tha 
regulated  advice,  and  deep-calculated  and 
combined  scliemes  of  a  financier,  liave  ren- 
dered to  nion.  who  had  already  their  re- 
sources in  tlieir  eye,  and  were  determined 
that  no  idle  scruple  should  prevent  their 
pouncing  upon  them  ?  Nccker's  expostu- 
lations, addressed  to  their  ears,  were  like 
a  lecture  upon  thrift  and  industry  to  Robia 


Chap.  F/.j 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


71 


Hood  and  hia  merry-men,  when  they  were 
setting  forth  to  rob  the  rich  in  the  name  of 
the  poor. 

The  Assembly  had  determined,  that,  all 
prejudices  apart,  the  property  of  the  Church 
should  come  under  confiscation  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  nation.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
clergy  exclaimed  against  these  acts  of  rap- 
ine and  extortion — in  vain  that  they  stated 
themselves  as  an  existing  part  of  the  nation, 
and  that  as  such  they  had  coalesced  with 
the  Assembly  under  the  implied  r.itification 
of  their  own  rights — in  vain  that  they  re- 
sounded in  the  hall  the  declaration  solemn- 
ly adopted,  that  property  was  inviolable, 
save  upon  full  compensation.  It  was  to  as 
little  purpose  that  Mirabeau  was  reminded 
of  his  language,  addressed  to  the  Emperor 
Joseph  upon  a  similar  occasion.—"  Despise 
the;  monks,"  he  had  said,  "  as  much  as  you 
will,  but  do  not  rob  them.  Robbery  is 
equally  a  crime,  whether  perpetrated  on 
the  most  profligate  atheist,  or  the  most 
bigoted  capuchin."  The  clergy  were  told 
with  insulting  gravity,  that  the  property  be- 
longing to  a  community  was  upon  a  differ- 
ent footing  from  that  belonging  to  individ- 
uals, because  the  state  might  dissolve  the 
community  or  body-corporate,  and  resume 
the  property  attached  to  it ;  and,  under  this 
sophism,  they  assumed  tor  tlie  benefit  of  the 
public  the  whole  right  of  property  belong- 
ing to  the  Church  of  France. 

As  it  was  impossible  to  bring  these  im- 
mense subjects  at  once  to  sale,  flie  Assem- 
bly adopted  a  system  of  paper-money,  call- 
ed Assi^nats.  which  were  secured  or  hy- 
pothecated upon  the  church-lands.  The 
fluctuation  of  this  paper,  which  was  adopt- 
ed against  Necker's  earnest  cautions,  cre- 
ated a  spirit  of  stock-jobbing  and  gambling, 
nearly  resembling  that  which  distinguished 
the  famous  scheme  of  the  Mississippi. 
Spelman  would  have  argued,  that  the  taint 
of  sacrilege  attached  to  funds  raised  upon 
the  spoils  of  the  church  ;  yet  it  must  be 
admitted  that  these  supplies  enabled  the 
National  Assembly  not  only  to  avoid  the 
gulf  of  general  bankruptcy,  but  to  dispense 
with  many  territorial  exactions  which  press- 
ed hard  on  the  lower  orders,  and  to  give 
relief  and  breath  to  that  most  useful  portion 
of  the  community.  These  desirable  re- 
sults, however,  flowed  from  that  divine  ai- 
chsmy  which  calls  good  out  of  evil,  without 
affording  a  justification  to  the  perpetrators 
of  the  latter. 

Shortly  after  the  adoption  of  this  plan. 
embraced  against  his  opinion  and  his  re- 
monstrances, Necker  saw  h.s  services  were 
no  longer  acceptable  to  the  Assembly,  and 
that  he  could  not  be  useful  to  the  King. 
He  tendered  his  resignation,  wliich  was 
received  with  cold  indiffierence  by  the  As- 
sembly ;  and  even  his  safety  was  endanger- 
ed on  his  return  to  his  native  country,  by 
the  very  people  who  had  twice  hailed  him 
as  their  deliverer.  This  accomplished 
statesman  discovered  too  late,  that  public 
opinion  requires  to  be  guided  and  directed 
towards  the  ends  of  public  good,  which  it 
will  not  reach  by  its  own  unassisted  and 
misdiiected  efforts  3  and  that  hie  own  pop- 


ularity had  only  been  the  stalking-horse, 
through  means  of  which,  men  less  honest, 
and  more  subtle  than  himself,  had  takea 
aim  at  their  own  objects. 

But  the  majority  of  the  National  Assem- 
bly had  yet  another  and  even  a  more  vio- 
lent experiment  to  try  upon  the  Gallicaa 
Church  establishment.  It  was  one  which, 
touched  the  consciences  of  the  French 
clergy  in  the  same  degree  as  the  former 
affected  their  fortunes,  and  was  so  much 
the  less  justifiable,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
suggest  any  motive  except  the  sweeping 
desire  to  introduce  novelty  in  every  de- 
partment of  the  state,  and  to  have  a  consti- 
tutional clergy  as  they  had  a  constitutional 
King,  which  should  have  instigated  them 
to  such  a  measure. 

When  the  Assembly  had  decreed  the 
assumption  of  the  church-lands,  it  remain- 
ed to  be  settled  on  what  foundation  reli- 
gion was  to  be  placed  within  the  kingdom. 
A  motion  was  made  for  decreeing,  that  the 
Holy  .\postolic  religion  was  that  of  France, 
and  that  its  worship  alone  should  be  per- 
mitted. A  Carthusian  monk,  named  Dora 
Gerle,  made  this  proposal,  alarmed  too  late 
lest  the  popular  party,  to  which  he  had  so 
long  adJiered,  should  now  be  about  to  in- 
novate in  the  matters  of  the  Church,  as 
they  had  already  in  those  of  the  state.  The 
debate  was  conducted  with  decency  for 
one  day,  but  on  the  second  the  hall  of  the 
Assembly  was  surrounded  by  a  large  and 
furious  multitude,  who  insulted,  beat,  and 
maltreated  idi  who  were  known  to  favour 
the  measure  under  consideration.  It  was 
represented  within  the  house,  that  the 
passing  the  decree  proposed  would  be  the 
signal  for  a  religious  war  ;  and  Dom  Gerle 
withdrew  his  motion  in  terror  and  despair. 

The  success  of  this  opposition  showed, 
that  almost  any  experiment  on  the  Church 
might  be  tried  with  effect,  since  the  reli- 
gion which  it  taught  seemed  no  longer  to 
interest  the  national  legislators.  A  scheme 
was  brought  forward,  in  which  the  public 
worship,  (culte  publique.)  as  it  was  affect- 
edly termed,  witiiout  any  addition  of  rev- 
erence, (as  if  to  give  it  the  air  of  a  mere 
code  of  formal  enactments,)  was  provided 
for  on  the  narrowest  and  most  economical 
plan.  But  this  was  not  all.  A  civil  con- 
stitution was  by  the  same  code  framed  for 
the  clergy,  declaring  them  totally  indepen- 
dent of  the  See  of  Rome,  and  vesting  th« 
choice  of  bishops  in  the  departmental  au 
thorities.  To  this  constitution  each  priest 
and  prelate  was  required  to  adhere  by  a 
solemn  oath.  A  subsequent  decree  of  the 
Assembly  declared  forfeiture  of  his  bene- 
fice against  whomsoever  should  hesitate  ; 
but  the  clergy  of  France  sliowed  in  that 
trying  moment  that  they  knew  kew  to 
choose  betwixt  sinning  against  their  con- 
science, and  suffering  wrong  at  the  hands 
of  man.  Their  dependence  on  the  See  of 
Rome  was  a  part  of  their  creed,  an  article 
of  their  faith,  which  they  would  not  com- 
promise. The  noble  attitude  of  firmness 
and  self-denial  adopted  by  prelates  and 
richly-beneficed  clerg)men,  who  had  nitb- 
erto  iijen  thought  more  governed  by  levi- 


T2 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.   VI. 


ties  of  every  kind  than  by  regard  to  their 
profession,  commanded  for  a  time  the  re- 
Bpect  of  the  Assembly,  silenced  the  blas- 
pnemies  of  the  hired  assistants  in  the  tri- 
ouaes,  and  gave  many  to  fear  that,  in  de- 
priring  the  Church  of  its  earthly  power, 
the  Assembly  might  but  give  them  means 
to  extend  their  spiritual  dominion  more 
widely,  and  awake  an  interest  in  their  fate 
which  slumbered  during  their  prosperity. 
"  Beware  what  you  do,"  said  Montlosier. 
"  You  may  expel  the  bishop  from  his  epis- 
copal residence,  but  it  will  be  only  to  open 
to  nim  the  cabins  of  the  poor.  If  you  take 
from  his  hands  the  cross  of  gold,  he  will 
display  a  cross  of  wood ;  and  it  was  by  a 
cross  of  wood  that  the  world  was  saved." 

Summoned  one  by  one  to  take  the  oath, 
or  refuse  it  under  the  consequences  men- 
aced, the  Assembly,  fearful  of  the  effect  of 
their  firmness,  would  scarce  hear  these  suf- 
ferers speak  a  syllable,  save  Yes  or  No. 
Their  tumult  on  the  occasion  resembled 
the  beating  of  drums  to  drown  the  last 
words  of  a  martyr.  Few  indeed,  were  the 
priests  who  accepted  the  Constitutional 
oath.  There  were  in  the  number  only 
three  bishops.  One  had  been  a  person  of 
note — it  was  that  Archbishop  of  Sens — that 
▼ery  Cardinal,  whose  mal-administration  of 
fifteen  months  had  led  to  this  mighty 
change.  Another  of  the  three  Constitu- 
tional prelates  was  destined  to  be  much 
TOOre  remarkable — it  was  the  celebrated 
Talleyrand,  whose  talents  as  a  statesman 
have  been  so  distinguished. 

The  National  Assembly  failed  totally  in 
their  attempts  to  found  a  national  Church. 
The  priests  wlio  took  the  oaths  receiv- 
ed neither  reverence  nor  affection,  and 
wers  only  treated  with  decency  by  such  as 
•onsidered  religion  in  the  light  of  an  useful 
political  institution.  They  were  alike  de- 
spised by  the  sincere  Catholic,  and  the  de- 
clared infidel.  All  of  real  religious  feeling 
or  devotion  that  was  left  in  France  turned 
towards  their  ancient  pastors,  and  though 
the  impulse  was  not  strong  enough  to  coun- 
teract the  revolutionary  movement,  it  serv- 
ed on  many  occasions  to  retard  and  embar- 
rass it.  The  experiment  which  had  thus 
•ignally  miscarried,  was  indeed  as  impolitic 
«s  it  was  unnecessary.  It  can  only  be  im- 
puted, on  the  one  hand,  to  the  fanaticism 
of  the  modern  philosophers,  who  expected 
by  this  indirect  course  to  have  degraded 
the  Christian  religion  ;  and  on  the  other, 
to  the  preconcerted  determination  of  the 
Revolutionists,  that  no  consideration  should 
interfere  with  the  plan  of  new-modelling 
the  nation  through  all  its  institutions,  as 
well  of  church  as  of  state. 

Victorious  at  once  over  altar  and  throne, 
mitre  and  coronet.  King,  Nobles,  and  Cler- 
gy, the  National  Assembly  seemed  in  fact 
to  possess,  and  to  exert,  tliat  omnipotence, 
which  has  been  imputed  to  the  British  Par- 
liament. Never  had  any  legislature  made 
•tich  extensive  and  sweeping  changes,  and 
never  were  such  changes  so  easily  accom- 
plished. The  nation  was  altered  in  all  its 
relations ;  its  flag  and  its  emblems  were 
•hanged — avcry  thing  of  a  public  character 


was  destroyed  and  replaced,  down  to  tho 
very  title  of  the  sovereign,  who,  no  longei 
termed  King  of  France  and  Navarre,  was 
now  called  King  of  the  French.  The 
names  and  divisions  of  the  provinces,  which 
had  existed  for  many  years,  were  at  one*} 
obliterated,  and  were  supplied  by  a  geo- 
graphical partition  of  the  territory  into 
eiglity-threc  departments,  subdivided  into 
six  hundred  districts,  and  these  again  por 
tioned  out  into  forty-eight  thousand  com 
munities  or  municipalities.  By  thus  re- 
casting as  it  were  the  whole  geographical 
relations  of  tlie  separate  territories  of  which 
France  consisted,  the  Abbe  Sieyes  design- 
ed to  obliterate  former  recollections  and 
distinctions,  and  to  bring  every  thing  down 
to  the  general  level  of  liberty  and  equality. 
But  it  had  an  efl'ect  beyond  what  was  pro- 
posed. While  the  provinces  existed  they 
had  their  separate  capitals,  their  separata 
privileges  ;  and  tliose  capitals,  though  in  a 
subordinate  rank,  being  yet  the  seats  of 
provincial  parliaments,  had  a  separate  con- 
sequence, inferior  to,  but  yet  distinct  from 
that  of  Paris.  But  when  France  became 
one  single  province,  the  importance  of  ita 
sole  capital,  Paris,  was  increased  to  a  most 
formidable  degree  ;  and  during  the  whole 
Revolution,  and  through  all  its  changes, 
whatever  party  held  the  metropolis  was 
sure  speedily  to  acquire  the  supreme  pow- 
er through  the  whole  department ;  and  woe 
to  those  wlio  made  the  fruitless  attempt  to 
set  the  sense  or  feelings  of  the  nation  in 
opposition  to  those  of  the  capital !  Republi- 
can or  royalist  was  equally  sure  to  perish 
in  the  rash  attempt. 

Tlio  Parliaments  of  France,  long  the 
strong-holds  of  liberty,  now  perished  unno- 
ticed, as  men  pull  down  old  houses  to  clear 
the  ground  for  modern  edifices.  The  salo 
of  offices  of  justice  was  formally  abolished; 
the  power  of  nominating  the  judges  was 
taken  from  the  crown  ;  the  trial  by  jury, 
with  inquests  of  accusation  and  conviction, 
corresponding  to  the  grand  and  petty  juries 
of  England,  were  sanctioned  and  establish- 
ed. In  thus  clearing  the  channels  of  pub- 
lic justice,  dreadfully  clogged  as  they  had 
become  during  the  decay  of  the  monarchy, 
the  National  Assembly  rendered  the  great- 
est possible  services  to  F'rance,  the  good 
effects  of  which  will  long  be  felt.  Other 
alterations  were  of  a  more  doubtful  charac- 
ter. There  might  be  immediate  policy,  but 
there  was  certainly  much  harshness,  in 
wresting  from  the  crown  the  power  of 
granting  pardons.  If  this  was  for  fear  lest 
grace  should  be  extended  to  those  con- 
demned for  the  new  crime  of  leze-nation, 
or  treason  against  the  Constitution,  the  le- 
gislators might  have  remembered  liow  sel- 
dom the  King  dares  to  exercise  this  right 
of  mercy  in  favour  of  an  unpopular  crimi- 
nal. It  requires  no  small  courage  to  com* 
betwixt  the  dragon  and  his  wrath,  the  peo- 
ple and  their  victim.  Charles  I.  daroc  no* 
save  .Strafford. 

The  National  Assembly  also  recognized 
the  freedom  of  the  press  ;  and,  in  doing  bo, 
conferred  on  the  nation  a  gift  fraught  with 
much  good  and  some  evil,  capable  of  stim- 


Chap,  y/.] 


LII-E  OF  NAPOLEON  fiuONAPARTE. 


73 


ulating  the  worst  passions,  and  circulating 
the  most  atrocious  calumnies,  and  occa- 
sioning frequently  the  most  enormous 
deeds  of  cruelty  and  injustice  ;  but  ever 
bearing  along  with  it  the  means  of  curing 
the  very  evils  caused  by  its  abuses,  and  of 
transmitting  to  futurity  the  sentiments  of 
the  good  and  the  wise,  so  invaluable  when 
the  passions  are  silenced,  and  the  calm 
slow  voice  of  reason  and  reflection  comes 
to  obtain  a  hearing.  The  press  stimulated 
massacres  and  proscriptions  during  the 
frightful  period  which  we  are  approaching  ; 
■  but  the  press  has  also  held  up  to  horror  the 
memory  of  the  perpetrators,  and  exposed 
the  artifices  by  which  the  actors  were  in- 
stigated. It  is  a  rock  on  which  a  vessel 
maybe,  indeed,  and  is  often  wrecked  3  but 
that  same  rock  aliords  the  foundation  of  the 
brightest  and  noblest  beacon. 

We  might  add  to  the  weight  of  benefits 
which  France  unquestionably  owes  to  the 
Constituent  Assembly,  that  they  restored 
liberty  of  conscience  by  establishing  uni- 
versal toleration.  But  against  this  benefit 
must  be  set  the  violent  imposition  of  the 
Constitutional  oath  upon  the  Catholic  cler- 
gy, which  led  afterwards  to  such  horrible 
massacres  of  innocent  and  reverend  vic- 
tims, murdered  in  defiance  of  those  rules 
of  toleration,  which,  rather  in  scorn  of  re- 
ligion of  any  kind  than  regard  to  men's  con- 
sciences, the  Assembly  had  previously 
adopted. 

Faithful  to  their  plan  of  forming  not  a 
popular  monarchy,  but  a  species  of  royal  re- 
public, and  stimulated  by  the  real  republi- 
cans, whose  party  was  daily  gaining  ground 
among  their  ranks,  as  well  as  by  the  howls 
and  threats  of  those  violent  and  outrageous 
demagogues,  who,  from  the  seats  they  had 
adopted  in  the  Assembly  were  now  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Mountain,  the  framers 
of  the  Constitution  had  rendered  it  demo- 
cratical  in  every  point,  and  abridged  the 
royal  authority,  till  its  powers  became  so 
dim  and  obscure  as  to  merit  Burke's  happy 
illustration,  when  he  exclaimed,  speaking 
of  the  new-modelled  French  goVernment,-- 

" What  seem'd  its  head, 

The  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  011." 

The  Crown  was  deprived  of  all  appoint- 
ments to  civil  offices,  which  were  filled 
up  by  popular  elections,  the  Constitution- 
alists being  in  this  respect  faithful  to 
their  own  principles,  which  made  the  will 
of  the  people  the  source  of  all  power.  Nev- 
er was  such  an  immense  patronage  vested 
in  the  body  of  any  nation  at  large .  and  the 
arrangement  was  politic  in  the  immediate 
sense,  as  well  as  in  conformity  with  the 
principles  of  those  who  adopted  it ;  for  it 
attached  to  the  new  Constitution  the  mass 
of  the  people,  who  felt  themselves  elevated 
from  villanage  into  the  exercise  of  sove- 
reign power.  Each  member  of  the  elective 
assembly  of  a  municipality,  through  whose 
collective  votes  bishops,  administrators, 
judges,  and  other  official  persons  received 
their  appointments,  felt  for  the  moment  the 
importance  which  his  privilege  bestowed, 
Vqi..  I,  D 


and  recognized  in  his  own  person,  with 
corresponding  self-complacency,  a  frac- 
tion, however  small,  of  the  immense  com- 
munity, now  governed  by  those  whom  they 
themselves  elected  into  office.  The  charm 
of  power  is  great  at  all  times,  but  exqui- 
site to  intoxication  to  those  to  whom  it  is  a 
novelty. 

Called  to  the  execution  of  these  high  du- 
ties, which  hitherto  they  had  never  dream- 
ed of,  the  people  at  large  became  enamour- 
ed of  their  own  privileges,  carried  them  in- 
to every  department  of  society,  and  were 
legislators  and  debaters  in  season  and  out 
of  season.  The  exercise  even  of  the  ex- 
tensive privilege  committed  to  them,  seem- 
ed too  limited  to  these  active  citizens. 
The  Revolution  appeared  to  have  turned 
the  heads  of  the  whole  lower  classes,  and 
those  who  had  hitherto  thought  least  of  po- 
litical rights,  were  now  seized  with  the  fury 
of  deliberating,  debating,  and  legislating,  in 
all  possible  times  and  places.  The  sol- 
diers on  guard  debated  at  the  Oratoire — the 
journeymen  tailors  held  a  popular  assembly 
at  the  Colonnade — the  peruke-makers  met 
at  the  Champs-Elysees.  In  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  the  National  Guard,  three 
thousand  shoemakers  deliberated  on  the 
price  of  shoes  in  the  Place  Louis  Quinze ; 
every  house  of  call  was  converted  into  the 
canvassing  hall  of  a  political  body  ;  and 
France  for  a  time  presented  the  singular 
picture  of  a  country,  where  every  one  wa.s 
so  much  involved  in  public  business,  thai 
he  had  little  leisure  to  attend  to  his  own. 

There  was,  besides,  a  general  disposition 
to  assume  and  practise  the  military  profes- 
sion ;  for  the  right  of  insurrection  having 
been  declared  sacred,  each  citizen  was 
to  be  prepared  to  discharge  effectually  so 
holy  a  duty.  The  citizens  procured  mus- 
kets to  defend  their  property — the  rabble 
obtained  pikes  to  invade  that  of  others — the 
people  of  every  class  everywhere  possess- 
ed themselves  of  arms,  and  the  most  peace- 
ful burgesses  were  desirous  of  the  honours 
of  the  epaulette.  The  children,  with  mim- 
icry proper  to  their  age,  formed  battalions 
on  the  streets,  and  the  spirit  in  which  they 
were  formed  was  intimated  by  the  heads  ol" 
cats  borne  upon  pikes  in  front  of  the  juve- 
nile revolutionists.* 

In  the  departments,  the  fever  of  legisla- 
tion was  the  same.  Each  district  had  its 
f)ermanent  committee,  its  committee  ol" 
police,  its  military  corainittee,  civil  com- 
mittee, and  committee  of  subsistence. 
Each  committee  had  its  president,  its  vice- 
president,  and  its  secretaries.  Each  dis- 
trict was  desirous  of  exercising  legislative 
authority,  each  committee  of  usurping  the 
executive  power. t  Amid  the.se  subordinate 
conclaves,  every  themo  of  eulogy  and  en- 
thusiasm referred  to  the  revolution  vliich 
had  made  way  for  the  power  they  enjoyed, 
every  subject  of  epidemic  alarm  to  the 
most  distai't  return  towards  the  ancient  sys- 
tem which  had  left  the  people  in  insigniti- 
cance.     Rumour  found  a  ready  audience  for 


*  Memoires  du  Marquis  des  FeTriows,  Livre  Ut 
t  Memoires  de  Bailli,  16  Aoat 


74 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VI. 


ever-  one  of  lier  thousand  tongues;  Dis- 
cord ;i  prompt  hand,  in  which  she  might 
place  each  ot'  her  thousand  8nakes. 

The  alhliation,  as  it  was  called,  or  close 
correspondence  of  the  Jacobin  Clubs  in  all 
their  rainilications,  tended  to  inlhience  this 
political  lever,  and  to  direct  its  fury  against 
the  last  remains  of  royalty.  Exaggerated 
and  unfounded  reports  of  counter-revolu- 
tionary plots  and  aristocratical  conspiracies, 
not  a  little  increased  by  the  rash  conversa- 
tion and  impotent  efforts  of  the  nobility  in 
some  districts,  were  circulated  with  the  ut- 
most care ;  and  the  falsehood  which  had 
been  confuted  at  Paris,  received  new  cur- 
rency in  the  departments,  as  that  which  was 
of  departmental  growth  was  again  circulat- 
ed with  eagerness  in  the  metropolis.  Thus, 
the  minds  of  the  people  were  perpetually 
kept  in  a  state  of  excitation,  which  is  not 
without  its  pleasures.  They  are  of  a  nature 
peculiarly  incompatible  with  soundness  in 
judgment  and  moderation  in  action,  but  fa- 
vourable in  the  same  degree  to  audacity  of 
thought,  and  determination  in  execution. 

The  royal  prerogative  of  the  King,  so 
closely  watched,  was  in  appearance  formi- 
dable enough  to  be  the  object  of  jealousy 
and  suspicion,  but  in  reality  a  mere  pageant 
which  possessed  no  means  either  of  attack 
or  resistance.  The  King  was  said  to  be 
the  organ  of  the  executive  power,  yet  he 
had  named  but  a  small  proportion  of  the 
officers  in  the  army  and  navy,  and  those 
who  received  their  appointments  from  a 
source  so  obnoxious,  possessed  little  cred- 
it amongst  those  whom  they  commanded. 
He  was  the  nominal  head  of  six  ministers, 
who  were  perpetually  liable  to  be  question- 
ed by  the  Assembly,  in  which  they  might 
be  called  to  defend  themselves  as  crimin- 
als, but  had  no  seat  or  vote  to  enable  them 
to  mingle  in  its  debates.  This  was,  per- 
haps, one  of  the  greatest  errors  of  the  con- 
stitution ;  for  the  relation  which  the  minis- 
ters bore  to  the  legislative  body,  was  of 
such  a  limited  and  dependent  nature  as  ex- 
cluded all  ideas  of  confidence  and  cordiali- 
ty. The  King's  person  was  said  to  be  invi- 
olable, but  the  frowning  brows  of  a  large 
proportion  of  his  subjects,  their  public  ex- 
clamations, and  the  pamphlets  circulated 
against  him,  intimated  very  different  doc- 
trine. He  might  .propose  to  the  Assembly 
the  question  of  peace  or  war,  but  it  re- 
mained with  them  to  decide  upon  it.  Last- 
ly, the  King  had  the  much-grudged  privi- 
lege of  putting  a  veto  on  any  decree  of  the 
"legislative  body,  which  was  to  have  the  ef- 
fect of  suspending  the  passing  of  the  law 
until  the  proposition  had  been  renewed  in 
two  successive  Assemblies ;  after  which 
the  royal  sanction  was  held  as  granted. 
This  mode  of  arresting  the  progress  of  any 
favourite  law  was  likely  to  be  as  dangerous 
to  the  sovereign  in  its  exercise,  as  the  at- 
tempt to  stop  a  carriage  by  catching  hold 
of  the  wheel.  In  f^ct.  whenever  the  King 
attempted  to  use  this  sole  relique  of  mon- 
archical power,  he  risked  his  life,  and  it 
was  by  doing  so  that  he  at  length  forfeited 
it.  Among  these  mutilated  features  of  sove- 
reignty, it  is  Bcarce  worth  while  to  mention, 


that  the  King's  effigy  was  ttill  struck  upon 
the  public  coin,  and  his  name  prefixed  to 
public  edicts. 

Small  as  was  the  share  of  public  power 
which  the  new  Constitution  of  France  af- 
forded to  the  Crown,  Louis,  in  outward 
semblance  at  least,  appeared  satisfied.  He 
made  it  a  rule  to  adopt  the  advice  of  the 
Assembly  on  all  occasions,  and  to  sanction 
every  decree  which  was  presented  to  him. 
He  accepted  even  that  whicli  totally  chan- 
ged the  constitution  of  the  Gallican  church. 
He  considered  himself  doubtless  as  under 
forcible  restraint,  ever  since  he  had  been 
dragged  in  triumph  from  Versailles  to  Pa- 
ris, and  therefore  complied  with  what  was 
proposed  to  him,  under  the  tacit  protest 
that  his  acquiescence  was  dictated  by  force 
and  fear.  His  palace  was  guarded  by  eight 
hundred  men,  with  two  pieces  of  cannon  ; 
and  although  this  display  of  force  was 
doubtless  intended  by  La  Fayette  to  assure 
Louis's  personal  safety,  yet  it  was  no  less 
certain  that  it  was  designed  also  to  pre- 
vent his  escape  from  the  metropolis.  The 
King  had,  therefore,  good  cause  to  conceive 
himself  possessed  of  the  melancholy  privi- 
lege of  a  prisoner,  who  cannot  incur  any 
legal  obligation  by  acts  which  do  not  flow 
from  free-will,  and  therefore  finds  a  re- 
source against  oppression  in  the  incapaci- 
ties which  attend  it.  It  was,  however,  car- 
rying this  privilege  to  the  verge  of  dissimu- 
lation, nay,  beyond  it,  when*  the  King 
went,  apparently  freely  and  voluntarily, 
down  to  the  National  Assembly,  and,  in  a 
dignified  and  touching  speech,  (could  it 
have  been  thought  a  sincere  one,)  accepted 
the  Constitution,  made  common  cause  with 
the  regenerated  nation,  and  declared  him- 
self the  head  of  the  Revolution.  Con- 
strained as  he  was  by  circumstances,  anx- 
ious for  his  own  safety,  and  that  of  his  fam- 
ily, the  conduct  of  Louis  must  not  be  too 
severely  criticised,  but  this  step  was  un- 
kingly  as  well  as  impolitic  ;  and  the  unfor- 
tunate monarch  gained  nothing  by  abasing 
himself  to  the  deceit  which  he  practised 
at  the  urgency  of  his  ministers,  excepting 
the  degradation  attending  a  deception,  by 
which  none  are  deceived.  No  one,  when 
the  heat  of  the  first  enthusiasm  was  over, 
gave  the  King  credit  for  sincerity  in  his 
acceptance  of  the  Constitution  ;  the  Roy- 
alists were  revolted,  and  the  Revolutionists 
could  only  regard  the  speech  and  accession 
as  the  acts  of  royal  hypocrisy.  Louis  was 
openly  spoken  of  as  a  prisoner;  and  the 
public  voice,  in  a  thousand  different  forms, 
announced  that  his  life  would  be  the  pen- 
alty of  any  attempt  to  his  deliverance. 

Meanwhile,  the    King   endeavoured    to 
work  out  liis  escape  from  Paris  and  the  Rev 
olution  at  once,  by  the  means  of  two  sepa 
rate  agents  in  whom  alone  he  confided. 

The  first  was  no  other  than  Mirabeau,  that 
very  Mirabeau  who  had  contributed  so  much 
to  the  Revolution,  but  who,  an  aristocrat  at 
heart,  and  won  over  to  the  royal  party  by  higli 
promises  of  wealth  and  advancement,  at 
length  laboured  seriously  to  undo  his   own 


*  4th  February,  1790. 


Chap    VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


work.  His  plan  was,  to  use  the  .\ssembly  it- 
self, in  which  his  talents,  eloquence,  and  au- 
dacity, gave  him  so  much  influence,  as  the 
means  of  re-establishing  the  royal  authority. 
He  proposed,  as  the  final  measure,  that  the 
King  should  retire  from  Paris  to  Metz, 
then  under  the  government  of  the  Marquis 
de  Bouille,  and  he  conceived  his  own  in- 
fluence in  the  Assembly  to  be  such,  that  he 
could  have  drawn  thither,  upon  some  rea- 
sonable terms  of  accommodation,  a  great 
majority  of  the  members.  It  is  certain  he 
had  the  highest  ascendancy  which  any  indi- 
vidual orator  exercised  over  that  body,  and 
was  the  only  one  who  dared  to  retort  threats 
and  defiance  to  the  formidable  Jacobins. 
■'  I  have  resisted  military  and  ministerial 
despotism,"  said  he,  when  opposing  a  pro- 
posed law  against  the  emigrants  ;  "  can  it 
be  supposed  I  will  yield  to  that  of  a  Club  ?"' 
— '•  By  what  right,"  exclaimed  Goupil, 
"  does  Mirabeau  act  as  a  dictator  in  the 
Assembly  7" — "Goupil,"  replied  Mirabeau, 
"  is  as  much  mistaken  when  he  calls  me 
a  dictator,  as  formerly  when  he  termed  me 
a  Catiline." — The  indignant  roar  of  the 
Jacobins  bellowing  from  their  boasted 
Mountain,  in  vain  endeavoured  to  inter- 
rupt him. — '■  Silence  these  thirty  voices," 
said  Mirabeau,  at  the  full  pitch  of  his  thun- 
dering voice  ;  and  the  volcano  was  silent 
at  his  bidding.  Yet,  possessed  as  he  was 
of  this  mighty  power,  Mirabeau  did  not, 
perhaps,  reflect  how  much  less  it  would 
have  availed  him  on  the  royal  side,  than 
when  he  sailed  with  all  the  wind  and  tide 
which  the  spirit  of  a  great  and  general  rev- 
olution could  lend  him.  He  was  a  man, 
too,  as  remarkable  for  his  profligacy  as  his 
wonderful  talents,  and  the  chance  which 
the  King  must  have  risked  in  embarking 
with  him,  was  like  that  of  the  prince  in  the 
tale,  who  escaped  from  a  desert  island  by 
embarking  on  board  a  skiff  drifting  among 
dangerous  eddies,  and  rowed  by  a  figure 
half  human  and  half  tiger.*  The  experiment 
was  prevented  by  the  sudden  and  violent 
illness  and  death  of  Mirabeau,  who  fell  a 
victim  to  his  debaucheries.  His  death  was 
greatly  lamented,  though  it  is  probable  that, 
had  the  Apostle  of  the  Revolution  lived 
much  longer,  he  would  either  have  averted 
its  progress,  or  his  dissevered  limbs  would 
have  ornamented  the  pikes  of  those  multi- 
tudes, who,  as  it  was,  followed  him  to  the 
grave  with  weapons  trailed,  and  howling 
and  lamentation. "t 

The  King's  other  confidant  was  the  Mar- 
quis de  Bouille,  a  person  entirely  different 
from  Mirabeau.  He  was  a  French  soldier 
of  the  old  stamp,  a  royalist  by  birth  and  dis- 


*  Mirabeau  bore  much  of  his  character  imprint- 
ed CD  his  person  and  features.  He  was  short, 
bull-necked,  and  very  strongly  made.  A  quantity 
of  thick,  matted  hair  hung  round  features  of  a 
coarse  and  exaggerated  character,  strongly  scarred 
and  seamed.  "  Figure  to  your  mind,"  he  saiJ,  de- 
scribing his  own  countenance  to  a  lady  who  knew 
him  not,  "  a  tiger  who  has  had  the  small  pox." 
When  he  talked  of  confronting  his  opponents  in  the 
Assembly,  his  favourite  phrase  was,  "  1  will  show 
them  La  Hure,"  that  is,  the  boar's  head,  meaning 
his  own  tusked  and  shaggy  countenance. 

t  He  died  28th,  March  1791. 


position  ;  had  gained  considerable  fame 
during  the  American  war,  and  at  the  time 
of  the  Revolution  was  governor  of  Metz 
and  Alsace.  Bouille  was  endowed  with  a 
rare  force  of  character,  and  proved  able, 
without  having  recourse  to  disguise  of  any 
kind,  to  keep  the  garrison  of  Metz  in  tol- 
erable discipline  during  the  general  dis- 
solution of  the  army.  The  state  of  milita- 
ry insubordination  was  so  great,  that  La 
Fayette,  and  his  party  in  the  .\ssembly,  not 
only  hesitated  to  dismiss  a  General  who 
v/as  feared  and  obeyed  by  the  regiments  un- 
der his  command,  but,  royalist  as  he  was, 
they  found  themselves  obliged  to  employ  the 
Marquis  de  Bouille  and  his  troops  in  sub- 
duing the  formidable  revolt  of  three  regi- 
ments quartered  at  Nancy,  which  he  ac- 
complished with  complete  success,  and  such 
slaughter  among  the  insurgents,  as  was 
likely  to  recommend  subordination  in  fu- 
ture. The  Republican  party  of  course  gave 
this  act  of  authority  the  name  of  a  massa- 
cre of  the  people,  and  even  the  Assem- 
bly at  large,  though  Bouille  acted  in  eon- 
sequence  of  their  authority,  saw  with  anx- 
iety the  increased  importance  of  an  avow- 
ed Royalist.  La  Fayette,  who  was  Bouille's 
relation,  spared  no  pains  to  gain  him  to 
the  Constitutional  side,  while  Bouille  avow- 
ed publicly  that  he  only  retained  his  com- 
mand in  obedience  to  the  King,  and  in  the 
hope  of  serving  him. 

With  this  general,  who  had  as  yet  pre- 
served an  authority  that  was  possessed  by 
no  other  Royalist  in  France,  the  King  en- 
tered into  a  close  though  secret  corres- 
pondence in  Cjrpher,  which  turned  chiefly 
on  the  best  mode  of  facilitating  the  escape 
of  the  royal  family  from,  Paris,  where  late 
incidents  had  rendered  his  abode  doubly 
odious,  and  doubly  dangerous. 

La  Fayette's  strength  consisted  in  his 
popularity  with  the  middle  classes  of  the 
Parisians,  who,  in  the  character  of  Nation- 
al Guards,  looked  up  to  him  as  their  com- 
mandant, and  in  general  obeyed  his  orders 
in  dispersing  those  tumultuous  assemblies 
of  the  lower  orders,  which  threatened  dan- 
ger to  persons  and  property.  But  La  Fay- 
ette, though  fixed  in  his  principle  to  pre 
serve  monarchy  as  a  part  of  the  constitu 
tion,  seems  to  have  been  always  on  cold  and 
distrustful  terms  with  the  monarch  person- 
ally. He  was  perpetually  trying  his  own 
feelings,  and  those  whom  he  influenced, 
by  the  thermometer,  and  became  alarmed 
if  his  own  loyalty  or  theirs  arose  above  the 
most  tepid  degree. 

Two  marked  incidents  served  to  show 
that  the  civic  guard  were  even  less  warm 
than  their  commandant  in  z^al  for  the  roval 
person. 

The  National  Guard,  headed  by  La  Fav- 
ette,  together  with  the  edict  respecting 
martial  law,  had,  as  %ve  have  observed, 
greatly  contributed  to  the  restoration  of 
order  in  Paris,  by  checking  and  dispersing, 
upon  various  occasions,  those  disorderly  as- 
semblies of  rioters,  whose  violence  and 
cruelty  had  dishonoured  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Revolution.  But  the  spint 
which  raisea  these  commotions  was  uaabat- 


re 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VI. 


ed,  and   was   carefully   nourished  by   the 
Jacobins  and  all   their  subordinate  agents, 
whose  popularity  lay  among  the  rabble,  as 
that  of  the  Constitutionalists  did  with  the 
citizens.'   Among  the  current  falsehoods  of 
the  diiy,  arose  a  report  that  the   old  Castle 
of  Mncennes,  situated  about   three  miles 
from  Paris,  was  to  be  used  as  a  state  prison 
in   place    of  the    Bastille.      A   large   mob 
marched  from  the  suburb   called  Saint  An- 
toine,  the  residence  of  a  great  number  of 
labourers  of  the  lowest  order,  already  dis- 
tinguished by  its  zeal  for  the  revolutionary 
doctrines.*  They  were  about  to  commence 
the  destruction  of  the  ancient  castle,  when 
the  vigilant  commandant  of  Paris   arrived 
and  dispersed  them,  not  without  bloodshed. 
In  the  meantime,  the  few  Royalists  whom 
Paris  still  contained,  became  alarmed  lest 
this  tumult,  though   beginning  in   another 
quarter,  might  be  turned  against  the  person 
of  the  King.   For  his  protection  about  three 
hundred  gentlemen  repaired  to  the  Tuille- 
ries,  armed  with  sword-canes,  short  swords, 
pistols,  and  such  other  weapons  as  could  be 
best  concealed  about  their  persons,  as  they 
went  through  the  streets.     Their  services 
and  zeal  were   graciously  acknowledged  by 
the  unfortunate  Louis,  little  accustomed  of 
late  to  such  marks  of  devotion.     But  when 
La  Fayette   returned  to  the    palace,  at  the 
head  of  his  grenadiers  of  the  National  Guard, 
he  seems  not  to  have  been  ill  pleased  that 
the  intrusion  of  these  gentlemen  gave  him 
an  opportunity  of  showing,  that  if  he   had 
dispersed    the   revolutionary  mob   of  the 
Fauxbourgs,  it  was  without  amy  undue  de- 
gree of  affection  to  the  royal  cause.     He 
felt,   or  affected  extreme  jealousy   of  the 
armed  aristocrats  whom  he   found  in  the 
Tuilleries,  and  treated  them  as  men  who 
had  indecently  thrust  themselves   into  the 
palace,  to  usurp  the  duty  of  defending  the 
King's  person,  by  law  consigned  to  the  Na- 
tional Guard.     To  appease  the  jealousy  of 
the  civic  soldiers,  the  King  issued  his  com- 
mands upon  the  Royalists  to  lay  down  their 
.inns.     He  was  no  sooner  obeyed  by  those, 
to  whom  alone  out  of  so  many   millions  he 
could  still  issue  his  commands,  than  a  most 
scandalous  scene  ensued.  The  soldiers,  fall- 
ing  upon  the  unfortunate   gentlemen,  ex- 
pelled them  from  the  palace   with   blows 
and  insult,  applying  to  them  the  name  of 
Knights  of  the   Poinard,  afterwards   often 
repeated  in  revolutionary  objurgation.    The 
vexation  and  sorrow  of  the  captive  prince 
had  a  severe  effect  on  his  health,  ajid  was 
followed  by  indisposition. 

The  second  incident  we  have  alluded  to 
intimated  even  more  directly  the  personal 
restraint  in  which  he  was  now  held.  Early 
in  springt  Louis  had  expressed  his  purpose 
of  going  to  Saint  Cloud,  under  the  pretext 
of  seeking  a  change  of  air,  but  in  reality,  it 
may  be  supposed,  for  the  purpose  of  ascer- 
taining what  degree  of  liberty  he  would  be 
permitted  to  exercise.  The  royal  carriages 
were  drawn  out,  and  the  King  and  Queen 
had  already  mounted  theirs,  when  the  cries 
of  the  spectators,  echoed  by  those  of  the 


•  February  28th,  1791,    j  18th  April,  1791. 


National  Guards  who  were  upon  duty,  de. 
clared  tliat  the  King  should  not  be  permit- 
ted to  leave  the  Tuilleries.  La  Fayette 
arrived — commanded,  implored,  threatened 
the  refractory  guards,  but  was  answered  by 
their  unanimous  refusal  to  obey  his  orders. 
After  the  scene  of  tumult  had  lasted  moru 
than  an  hour,  and  it  had  been  clearly  prov- 
ed that  La  Fayette's  authority  was  unable 
to  accomplish  his  purpose,  the  royal  per- 
sons returned  to  the  palace,  now  their  ab- 
solute and  avowed  prison. 

La  Fayette  was  so  much  moved  by  thia 
affront,  that  he  laid  down  his  commission 
as  commandant  of  the  National  Guard,  and 
although  he  resumed  it,  upon  the  general 
renionstr.ances  and  excuses  of  the  corps,  it 
was  not  without  severely  reproaching  them 
for  their  want  of  discipline,  and  intimating 
justly,  that  the  respect  they  showed  ought 
to  be  for  his  rank  and  office,  not  for  his 
person. 

Meantime,  the  naftiral  inferences  from 
these  cruel  lessons,  drove  the  King  and 
Queen  nearly  desperate.  The  events  of 
the  28th  of  February  had  shown  that  they 
were  not  to  be  permitted  to  introduce  their 
friends  or  defenders  within  the  fatal  walls 
which  enclosed  them  ;  those  of  the  ISth 
April  proved,  that  they  were  not  allowed 
to  leave  their  precincts.  To  fly  from  Paris, 
to  gather  around  him  such  faithful  subjects 
as  might  remain,  seemed,  though  a  despe- 
rate resource,  the  only  one  which  remain- 
ed to  the  unhappy  monarch,  and  the  pre- 
parations were  already  made  for  the  fatal 
experiment. 

The  Marquis  de  Bouille  had,  under  va- 
rious pretences,  formed  a  camp  at  Mont- 
medy,  and  had  drawn  thither  some  of  the 
troops  he  could  best  depend  upon  5  but 
such  was  the  universad  indisposition,  both 
of  the  soldiery  and  the  people  of  every  de- 
scription, that  the  general  seems  to  have 
entertained  almost  no  hope  of  any  favoura- 
ble result  for  the  royal  cause.  The  King's 
life  might  have  been  saved  by  his  escaping 
into  foreign  parts,  but  there  was  hardly  any 
prospect  of  restoring  the  monarchy. 

The  history  of  the  unhappy  journey  to 
Varennes  is  well  known.  On  the  night  be- 
tween the  19th  and  20th  of  August,  Louis 
and  his  Queen,  with  their  two  children, 
attended  by  one  lady,  and  escorted  by  three 
gentlemen  of  the  Gardei  du  Corps,  set  out 
in  disguise  from  Paris.  The  King  left  be- 
hind him  a  long  manifesto,  inculpating  the 
Assembly  for  various  political  errors,  and 
solemnly  protesting  against  the  acts  of 
government  to  which  he  had  been  compel- 
led, as  he  stated,  to  give  his  assent,  during 
what  he  termed  his  captivity,  which  he 
seemed  to  have  dated  from  his  compulsory 
residence  in  the  Tuilleries. 

The  very  first  person  whom  the  Queen 
encountersKl  in  the  streets  was  La  Fayette 
himself,  as  he  crossed  the  Place  du  Carou- 
sel. A  hundred  other  dangers  attended 
the  route  of  the  unfortunate  fugitives,  and 
the  hair-breadth  escapes  by  which  they 
profited,  seemed  to  intimate  the  favour  of 
fortune,  while  they  only  proved  her  muta- 
bility.   An  escort,  placed  for  them  at  the 


Chap.  V/.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


77 


Pont  de  Sommeville,  had  been  withdrawn,    tionalists  grieved  that  their  constitution  re- 


after  their  remainiujf  at  that  place  for 
time  had  excited  popular  suspicion.  At 
Saint  Menehould  they  met  a  small  detach- 
ment of  dragoons,  stationed  there  by 
Bouille'  also  for  their  escort.  But  while 
they  halted  to  change  horses,  the  King, 
whose  features  were  remarkable,  was  re- 
cognized by  Drouet,  a  son  of  the  postmas- 
ter. The)oung  man  was  a  keen  Revolu- 
tionist, and  resolving  to  prevent  the  escape 
of  the  sovereign,  he  mounted  a  horse,  and 
pushed  forwards   to  Varcnnes  to  prepare 


quired  a  monarchical  head  ;  the  Republi- 
cans rejoiced,  for  it  had  long  been  their  ob- 
ject to  abolish  the  kingly  office.  Nor  did 
the  anarchists  of  the  Jacobin  Club  less  ex- 
ult ;  for  the  events  which  had  taken  place, 
and  their  probable  consequences,  were  such 
as  to  animate  the  revolutionary  spirit,  ex- 
asperate the  public  mind,  prevent  the  re- 
turn of  order,  and  stimulate  the  evil  pas- 
sions of  lawless  ambition,  and  love  of  blood 
and  rapine. 
But  La  Fayette  was  determined  not  to 


the    municipality  for   the   arrival    of    tlie    relinquish  the  constitution  he  had  formed, 


King. 

Two  remarkable  chances  seemed  to  show 
that  the  good  angel  of  Louis  still  strove  in 
his  favour.  Drouet  was  pursued  by  a  reso- 
lute royalist,  a  quarter-master  of  dragoons, 
who  suspected  his  purpose,  and  followed 
him  with  the  design  ot'  preventing  it  at  all 
hazards.  But  Drouet,  better  acquainted 
with  the  road,  escaped  a  pursuit  which 
might  have  been  fatal  to  him.  The  other 
incident  was,  that  Drouet  for  a  time  pursu- 
ed the  road  to  Verdun,  instead  of  that  to 
Varennes,  concluding  the  Ring  had  taken 
the  former  direction,  and  was  only  unde- 
ceived by  an  accident. 

He  reached  Varennes,  and  found  a  ready 
disposition  to  stop  the  flight  of  the  unhappy 
prince.  The  King  was  stopped  a^  Varen- 
nes and  arrested;  the  National  Guards  were 
called  out — the  dragoons  refused  to  fight 
in  the  King's  defence — an  escort  of  hus- 
sars, who  might  have  cut  a  passage,  arrived 
too  late,  acted  with  reluctance,  and  finally 
deserted  the  town.  Still  there  remained 
one  last  throw  for  their  freedom.  If  the  time 
could  have  been  protracted  but  for  an  hour 
and  a  half,  Bouille  would  have  been  before 
Varennes  at  the  head  of  such  a  body  of 
faithful  and  disc'plined  troops  as  might 
easily  have  dispersed  the  national  militia. 
He  had  even  opened  a  correspondence  with 
the  royal  prisoners  through  a  faithful  emis- 
sary who  ventured  into  Varennes,  and  ob- 
tained speech  of  the  King ;  but  could  ob- 
tain no  answer  more  decided  than  that,  be- 
ing a  prisoner,  Louis  declined  giving  any 
orders.  Finally,  almost  all  the  troops  of  | 
the  Marquis  de  Bouille  declared  against 


and,  in  spite  of  the  unpopularity  of  the 
royal  dignity,  rendered  more  so  by  this 
frustrated  attenipt  to  escape,  he  was  resolv- 
ed to  uphold  it ;  and  was  jomed  in  this  pur- 
pose by  Barnave  and  others,  who  did  not  al- 
ways share  his  sentiments,  but  who  thought 
it  shame,  apparently,  to  show  to  the  world, 
that  a  constitution,  framed  for  immortality 
upon  the  best  political  principles  of  the 
m.ost  accomplished  statesmen  in  France, 
was  so  slightly  built,  as  to  part  and  go 
asunder  at  the  first  shock.  The  purpose  of 
the  commandant  of  Paris,  however,  was 
not  to  be  accomplished  without  a  victory 
over  the  united  strength  of  the  Republican 
and  Jacobinical  parties,  who  on  their  part 
might  be  expected  to  put  in  motion  on  the 
occasion  their  many-handed  revolutionary 
engine,  an  insurrection  of  the  people. 

Such  was  the  state  of  political  opinions, 
when  the  unfortunate  Louis  was  brought 
back  to  Paris.  He  was,  with  his  wife  and 
children,  covered  with  dust,  dejected  with 
sorrow,  and  exhausted  with  fatigue.  The 
faithful  Gardes  du  Corps  who  had  accom- 
panied their  flight,  sate  bound  like  felons 
on  the  driving  seat  of  the  carriage.  His 
progress  was  at  first  silent  and  unhonoured. 
The  guard  did  not  present  arms — the  peo- 
ple remained  covered — no  man  said  God 
bless  him.  At  another  part  of  the  route,  a 
number   of  the  rabble    preci^iitated   them- 


putilic  mind.  A  group  in  tlie  Palais  Royal  were 
discussing  in  great  alarm  the  consequences  of  the 
King's  flight,  when  a  man  dressed  in  a  thread-bar^; 
great-coat  leaped  upon  a  chair  and  addressed 
them  thus : — "  Citizens,  listen  to  a  tale,  which 
shall  not  be  a  long  one.  A  certain  well-meaning 
the  Kin" "and  in  favour  of  the  nation, "tend-  I  -Neapolitan  was  once  on  a  time  startled  in  his  eye- 
ing to  show  the  little  chance  which  exist-  "'"S  «alk,  by  the  a^itounding  intelligence  that  the 
_j„c      /.  ui     •  »     .u      f      •       .      rope  was  i  ead,     Ue  had  not  recovered  his  aston- 

ed  of  a  favourable  issue  to  the   Kins  s  at-  i  •  -^ 


tempt  to  create  a  royal  force.  The  Marquis 
himself  made  his  escape  with  difiiculty  into 
the  Austrian  territories. 

The  Parisians  in  general,  but  especially 
the  Legislative  Assembly,  had  been  at  first 
astounded  as  if  by  an  earthquake.  The 
King's  escape  seemed  to  menace  his  in- 
stant return  at  the  head  of  aristocratical 
levies,  supported  by  foreign  troops.  Re- 
flection made  most  men  see  as  a  more 
probable  termination,  that  the  dynasty  of 
the  Bourbons  could  no  longer  hold  the 
crown  ;  and  that  the  government,  already 
•0  democratical  in  principle,  must  become 
a  republic  in  all  its  forms.*    The  Constitu- 

*  The  following  anecdote  will  serve  to  show  by 
what  means  this  conclusion  was  iasinaated  into  the 


ishnient,  when  behold  he  is  informed  of  a  new  dis- 
I  aster. — the  King  of  Naples  was  also  no  more. 
I  '  Surely,'  said  the  worthy  Neapolitan,  '  the  sun 
I  must  vanish  from  heaven  at  such  a  combination 
of  fatalities.'  But  they  did  not  cease  here.  The 
Archbishop  of  Palermo,  he  is  intormed,  has  also 
died  suddenly.  Overcome  by  this  last  shock,  he 
retired  to  lied,  but  not  to  sleep.  In  the  morning, 
he  was  disturbed  in  his  melancholy  reverie  by  a 
rumbling  noise,  which  he  recognized  at  once  to  be 
the  motion  of  llie  wooden  instrument  which  makes 
macaroni.  '  Aha  I'  says  the  good  man,  starting 
up,  '  Can  I  trust  my  cars  : — The  Pope  13  dead — the 
King  of  Naples  is  dead — the  Bishop  of  Palermo  is 
dead — yet  my  neighbour  the  baker  makes  macaio- 
ni  I  Come  !  The  lives  of  these  great  folks  are 
not  then  so  indispensable  to  the  world  after  all." 
The  man  in  the  great-coat  jumped  down  and  dis- 
appeared. "  I  have  caught  his  meaning,"  said  a 
woman  amongst  the  listeners.  "  He  has  told  us  a 
tale,  and  it  begins  like  all  tales— TAere  tcoi  ohcb 
a  King  and  a  Q.uecn." 


78 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Oiap.   VI. 


eelves  on  the  carriage,  and  it  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  the  National  Guards, 
and  some  deputies,  could  assure  it  a  safe 
passage.  Under  such  auspices  were  the 
royal  family  committed  once  more  to  their 
old  prison  of  the  Tuilleries. 

Meantime  the  crisis  of  the  King's  fate 
Beemed  to  be  approaching.  It  was  not  long 
ere  the  political  parties  had  an  opportunity 
of  trying  their  respective  force.  A  meet- 
ing was  held  upon  the  motion  of  the  Re- 
publican and  Jacobinical  leaders,  in  the 
Champ  de  Mars,*  to  suscribe  a  petition  for 
the  dethronement  of  the  King,  couched  in 
the  boldest  and  broadest  terms.  There  was 
in  this  plain  a  wooden  editice  raised  on 
scaffolding,  called  the  Altar  of  the  Coun- 
try, which  had  been  erected  for  the  cere- 
mony of  the  Federation  of  14th  July,  1790, 
when  the  assembled  lepresentatives  of  the 
various  departments  of  France  took  their 
oath  to  observe  the  constitution.  On  this 
altar  the  petition  was  displayed  for  signa- 
ture ;  but  each  revolutionary  act  required  a 
preliminary  libation '  of  blood,  and  the  vic- 
tims on  this  occasion  were  two  wretched 
invalids,  whom  the  rabble  found  at  break- 
fast under  the  scaffolding  which  supported 
the  revolutionary  altar,  and  accused  of  a 
design  to  blow  up  the  patriots.  To  accuse 
was  to  condemn.  They  were  murdered 
without  mercy,  and  their  heads,  paraded  on 
pikes,  became  as  usual  the  standards  of  the 
insurgent  citizens.  The  municipal  officers 
attempted  to  disperse  the  assemblage,  but 
to  no  purpose.  Bailli,  mayor  of  Paris,  to- 
gether with  La  Fayette,  resolved  to  repel 
force  by  force  ;  martial  law  was  proclaim- 
ed, and  its  signal,  the  red  flag,  was  display- 
ed from  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  La  Fayette, 
with  a  body  of  grenadiers,  arrived  in  the 
Champ  de  Mars.  He  was  received  with 
abuse,  and  execrations  of  "Down  with  La 
Fayette  !  Down  with  martial  law  !'"  follow- 
ed by  a  volley  of  stones.  The  command- 
ant gave  orders  to  fire,  and  was  on  this  oc- 
casion most  promptly  obeyed ;  for  the  gren- 
adiers pouring  their  shot  directly  into  the 
crowd,  more  than  a  huitdred  men  lay  dead 
at  the  first  volley.  The  Champ  de  Mars 
was  empty  in  an  instant,  and  the  Constitut- 
ed Authority,  for  the  first  time  since  the 
Revolution  commenced,  remained  master 
of  a  contested  field.  La  Fayette  ought  to 
have  followed  up  this  triumph  of  the  legal 
force,  by  giving  a  triumph  to  the  law  itself, 
in  the  trial  and  conviction  of  some  of  his 
/  prisoners,  selecting  particularly  the  agita- 
!  tors  employed  by  the  Club  of  Jacobins  ; 
!  but  he  thought  he  had  done  enough  in 
frightening  these  harpies  back  to  their  dens. 
Some  of  their  leaders  sought  and  found  ref- 
uge among  the  Republicans,  which  was  not 
in  that  hour  of  danger  very  willingly  grant- 
ed.! Marat  and  many  others  who  had  been 
hitherto  the  undaunted  and  unwearied  in- 
Btigctorg  of  the  rabble,  were  compelled  to 
ekulk  in  obscurity  for  some  time  after  this 
victory  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  which  the 
Jacobins  felt  severely  at  the  time,  and  for- 


•  July  17, 1791. 

t  Menioiresi  de  Madame  Roland— article  Robtrt. 


got  not  afterwards  to  avenge  most  cruelly. 

This  victory  led  to  the  triumph  of  the 
Constitutionalists  in  the  Assembly.  The 
united  exertions  of  those  who  argued 
against  the  deposition  of  Louis,  founding 
their  reasoning  upon  that  constitutional  law, 
which  declares  the  King  inviolable  in  his 
person,  overpowered  the  party  who  loudly 
called  on  the  Assembly  to  proclaim  his  for- 
feiture, or  appoint  his  trial,  'liie  Assem- 
bly clogged,  however,  the  future  iiiviolabil- 
ity  of  the  King  with  new  penaltie.--.  If  the 
King,  having  accepted  the  constitution, 
should  retract,  they  decreed  he  should  be 
considered  as  abdicated.  If  he  should  or- 
der his  army,  or  any  part  of  it,  to  act  against 
the  nation,  this  should  in  like  manner  be 
deemed  an  act  of  abdication ;  and  an  abdi- 
cated monarch,  it  was  farther  decreed, 
should  become  an  ordinary  citizen,  answer- 
able to  the  la%vs  for  every  act  he  had  done 
before  or  since  the  act  of  abdication. 

The  constitution,  with  the  royal  immu- 
nity thus  curtailed  and  maimed,  was  now 
again  presented  to  the  King,  who  again  ac- 
cepted it  purely  and  simply,  in  ternis  which, 
while  they  excited  acclamation  from  the 
Assembly,  were  but  feebly  echoed  from  the 
gallery.*  The  legislators  were  glad  to  make 
a  virtue  jf  necessity,  and  complete  their 
constitutional  code,  though  in  a  precarious 
manner  ;  but  the  hearts  of  the  people  were 
now  decidedly  alienated  from  the  King, 
and,  by  a  strange  concurrence  of  misfor- 
tune, mixed  with  some  errors,  Louis,  whose 
genuine  and  disinterested  good  intentions 
ought  to  have  made  him  the  darling  of  his 
subjects,  had  now  become  the  object  of 
their  jealousy  and  detestation. 

Upon  reviewing  the  measures  which  had 
been  adopted  on  the  King's  return  to  Paris, 
historians  will  probably  be  of  opinion,  that 
it  was  impolitic  in  the  Assembly  to  offer 
the  constitutional  crown  to  Louis,  and  im- 
prudent in  that  unhappy  prince  to  accept  it 
under  the  conditions  annexed.  On  the 
former  point  it  must  be  remembered,  that 
these  innovators,  who  had  changed  every- 
thing else  in  the  state,  could,  upon  princi- 
ple, have  had  no  hesitation  to  alter  the  per- 
son or  the  dynasty  of  their  sovereign.  Ac- 
cording to  the  sentiments  which  they  had 
avowed,  the  King,  as  well  as  the  Nobles 
and  Clergy,  was  in  their  hands,  as  clay  in 
that  of  the  potter,  to  be  used  or  thrown 
away  at  pleasure.  The  present  King,  in 
the  manifesto  left  behind  him  on  his  flight, 
had  protested  to  all  Europe  against  the  sys- 
tem of  which  he  was  made  the  head,  and  it 
was  scarce  possible  that  his  sentiments 
could  be  altered  in  its  favour,  by  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  his  unwilling  return 
from  Varennes.  The  Assembly,  therefore, 
acting  upon  their  own  principles,  should 
have  at  once  proceeded  on  the  idea  that  his 
flight  was  a  virtual  abdication  of  the  crown 
— they  should  have  made  honourable  provis- 
ion for  a  prince  placed  in  so  uncommon  a 
situation,  and  suffered  him  to  enjoy  in  Spain 
or  Italy  an  honourable  independence,  so 
soon  as  the  storm  was  ended,  which  threat- 

•  September  13, 1791. 


Chap.  V/.l 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


79 


ened  them  from  abroad.  In  the  meanwhile , 
the  person  of  the  King  would  have  been  a 
pled!ge  in  their  hands,  which  might  have 
given  them  some  advantage  in  treating  with 
the  foreign  princes  of  his  family,  and  the 
potentates  of  Europe  in  general.  The 
general  policy  of  this  appears  so  obvious, 
that  it  was  probably  rather  the  difficulty  of 
arranging  in  what  hands  the  executive  au- 
thority should  be  lodged,  than  any  prefer- 
ence of  Louis  XVI.,  which  ind>^ced  the 
.'Vssembly  again  to  deposit  it  in  his  hands, 
shorn  in  a  great  measure  even  of  tiie  limit- 
ed consequence  and  privileges  constitution- 
ally annexed  to  it.  La  Fayette  and  his  par- 
ty perhaps  reckoned  on  the  King's  spirit 
having  given  way,  from  observing  how 
unanimously  the  people  of  France  were  dis- 
posed in  favour  of  the  new  state  of  things, 
and  may  have  trusted  to  his  accommodatmg 
himself,  therefore,  without  further  resist- 
ance, to  act  the  part  of  the  unsubstantial 
Eageant  which  the  constitution  assigned 
im. 

If  it  was  impolitic  in  the  Constitutional- 
ists to  replace  the  crown  upon  the  head  of 
Louis,  it  was  certainly  unworthy  of  that 
monarch  to  accept  it,  unless  invested  with 
such  a  degree  of  power  as  might  give  him 
some  actual  weight  and  preponderance  in 
the  system.  Till  his  flight  to  Varennes, 
the  King's  dislike  to  the  constitution  was  a 
secret  in  his  own  bosom,  which  might  in- 
deed be  suspected  from  circumstances,  but 
which  could  not  be  proved;  and  which, 
placed  as  he  was,  the  King  was  entitled  to 
conceal,  since  his  real  sentiments  could 
not  be  avowed  consistently  with  his  per- 
sonal safety.  But  now  this  veil  was  torn 
aside,  and  he  had  told  all  Europe  in  a  pub- 
lic declaration,  that  he  had  been  acting 
under  constraint  since  the  time  he  was 
brought  in  triumph  from  Versailles  to  Pa- 
ris. It  would  certainly  have  been  most  dig- 
nified in  Louis  to  have  stood  or  fallen  in 
conformity  with  tLlo  declaration,  made  on 
the  only  occasion  which  he  had  enjoyed 
for  such  a  length  of  time,  of  speaking  his 
own  free  sentiments.  He  should  not,  when 
brought  back  to  his  prison,  have  resumed 
the  submission  of  a  prisoner,  or  affected  to 
accept  as  a  desirable  boon,  the  restoration, 
as  it  might  be  called,  and  that  in  a  mutilat- 
ed state,  of  a  sovereignty,  which  he  had 
voluntarily  abandoned  at  such  extreme  per- 
sonal risk.  His  resolutions  were  too  flex- 
ible, and  too  much  at  the  mercy  of  circum- 
stances, to  be  royal  or  noble.  Charles  I., 
even  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  treated  with  his 
subjects,  as  a  prisoner  indeed,  but  still  as  a 
King,  refusing  to  accede  to  such  articles 
as  in  his  own  mind  he  was  determined  not 
to  abide  by.  Louis,  we  conceive,  should 
hare  returned  the  same  answer  to  the  As- 
sembly which  he  did  to  the  royalist  officer 
at  Varennes,  "  that  a  prisoner  could  give 
no  orders,  and  make  no  concessions."  He 
should  not,  like  a  bird  which  had  escaped 
and  been  retaken,  forget  the  notes  which 
he  uttered  when  at  freedom,  and  return  to 
his  set  and  prescribed  prison-song  the  in- 
stant that  the  cage  again  inclosed  him.  No 
man,  above  all  no  king,  should  place  the 


language  of  his  feelings  and  sentiments  so 
much  at  the  disposal  of  fortune.  An  ad- 
herence to  the  sentiments  expressed  in  his 
voluntary  declaration,  might,  it  is  possible, 
have  aflbrded  him  the  means  ot  making 
some  more  favourable  composition  ;  where- 
as the  affectation  of  willing  submission  to 
the  same  force  which  his  own  voice  had 
so  lately  proclaimed  illegal,  could  but 
make  the  unhappy  King  suspected  of  at- 
tempting a  deceit,  by  which  no  one  could 
be  deceived.  But  the  difficulties  of  his 
situation  were  great,  and  Louis  might  well 
remember  the  proverb,  which  places  the 
grave  of  deposed  sovereigns  close  to  their 
prison-gates.  He  might  be  persuaded  to 
temporize  with  the  party  which  still  offer- 
ed to  preserve  a  show  of  royalty  in  the 
constitution,  until  time  or  circumstances 
permitted  him  to  enlarge  its  basis.  In  the 
meantime,  if  we  can  believe  Bertrand  de 
Moleville,  Louis  avowed  to  him  the  deter- 
mination to  act  under  the  constitution  with 
all  sincerity  and  good  faith  ;  but  it  must  be 
owned,  that  it  would  have  required  the  vir- 
tues of  a  saint  to  have  enabled  him  to  make 
good  this  pledge,  had  the  success  of  the 
Austrians,  or  any  strong  counter-revolution- 
ary movement,  tempted  him  to  renounce 
it.  At  all  events,  the  King  was  placed  in 
a  doubtful  and  suspicious  position  towards 
the  people  of  France,  who  must  necessari- 
ly have  viewed  with  additional  jealousy 
the  head  of  a  government,  who,  avowedly 
discontented  with  the  share  of  power  allot- 
ted to  him,  had  nevertheless  accepted  it, — 
like  the  impoverished  gamester,  who  will 
rather  play  for  small  stakes  than  be  cut  out 
of  the  game. 

The  work  of  the  Constitution  being  thus 
accomplished,  the  National,  or,  as  it  is 
usually  called,  the  Constituent  Assembly, 
dissolved  itself,  agreeably  to  the  vow  they 
had  pronounced  in  the  Tennis-court  at 
Versailles.  The  Constitution,  that  struc- 
ture which  they  raised  for  immortality,  soon 
afterwards  became  ruinous  ;  but  in  few  as- 
semblies of  statesmen  have  greater  and 
more  varied  talents  been  assembled.  Their 
debates  were  often  fierce  and  stormy,  their 
mode  of  arguing  wild  and  vehement,  their 
resolutions  sudden  and  ill-conceived.  These 
were  the  faults  partly  of  the  French  char- 
acter, which  is  peculiarly  open  to  sudden 
impulses,  partly,  to  the  great  changes  per- 
petually crowding  upon  them,  and  to  the 
exciting  progress  of  a  revolution  which 
hurried  all  men  into  extravagance.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  respected  freedom  of  de- 
bate ;  and  the  proscription  of  members  of 
their  body,  for  maintaining  and  declaring 
their  sentiments,  in  opposition  to  that  of 
the  majority,  is  not  to  be  found  in  their 
records,  though  so  fearfully  frequent  in 
those  of  their  successors.  Their  main  and 
master  error  was  the  attempt  to  do  too 
much,  and  to  do  it  all  at  once.  The  parties 
kept  no  terms  with  each  other,  would  wait 
for  no  conviction,  and  make  no  concession. 
It  was  a  war  for  life  and  death  betwixt  raen^ 
who,  had  they  seen  more  calmly  for  their 
country  and  for  themselves,  would  rather 
have  sacrificed  some  part  of  the  theoretical 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  vn. 


exactness  of  principle  on  which  they  in- 
sisted, to  the  opportunity  of  averting  prac- 
tical evil,  or  attaining  practical  good.  The 
errors  of  the  Assembly  were  accordingly 
those  of  extremes.  They  had  felt  the 
weight  of  the  feudal  chains,  and  they  de- 
stroyed the  whole  nobility.  The  monarch 
had  been  too  powerful  for  the  liberties  of 
the  subject — they  now  bound  him  as  a 
lilave  at  the  feet  of  the  legislative  authori- 
ty. Their  arch  of  liberty  gave  way,  be- 
cause thoy  hesitated  to  place  upon  it,  in 
the  shape  of  an  efficient  executive  govern- 
ment, a  weight  sufficient  to  keep  it  steady. 
Yet  to  these  men  France  was  indebted  for 
the  first  principles  of  civil  liberty.  They 
kindled  th'i  flame,  though  they  could  not 
regulate  it ;  and  sach  as  now  enjoy  its  tem- 
perate warmth  should  have  sympathy  for 
the  errors  of  those  to  whom  they  owe  a 


boon  80  inestimable  ; — nor  should  this  sym- 
pathy be  the  less,  that  so  many  perished  in 
the  conflagration,  which,  at  the  commence- 
ment, they  had  fanned  too  rasnly.  They 
did  even  more,  for  they  endeavoured  to 
heal  the  wounds  of  the  nation  by  passing 
an  act  of  general  amnesty,  which  at  once 
placed  in  security  the  Jacobins  of  the 
Champ  de  Mars,  and  the  unfortunate  com- 
panions of  the  King's  flight.  This  was  one 
of  their  last  and  wisest  decrees,  could  they 
have  enforced  its  observance  by  their  euc- 
cessors. 

The  adieus  which  they  took  of  power  were 
anything  but  prophetic.  They  pronounced 
the  Revolution  ended,  and  tlie  Constitution 
completed— the  one  was  but  commencing, 
and  the  other  was  baseless  as  a  morning 
dream. 


CHAP.   VII. 

Legislative  Assembly — Its  Composition. — Constitutionalists — Girondists  or  Brissotins — 
Jacobins. —  Views  and  Sentiments  of  Foreign  Nations — England —  Views  of  the  To- 
ries and  ^Vhigs — Anacharsis  Klootz — Austria — Prussia — Russia — Sweden. — Emi- 
gration of  the  French  Princes  and  Clergy — Increasing  Unpopularity  of  Louis  from 
this  cause. — Death  of  the  Emperor  Leopold,  and  its  Effects. — France  declares  War. 
—  Vieius  and  Interests  of  the  different  Parties  in  France  at  this  Period. — Decree 
against  Monsieur — Louis  interposes  his  Veto. — Decree  against  the  Priests  who  shauld 
refuse  the  Constitutional  Oath — Louis  again  interposes  his  Veto — Consequences  of 
these  refusals. — Fall  of  De  Lessart. — Ministers  now  chosen  from  the  Brissotins. — All 
Parties  favourable  to  War. 


The  First,  or  Constituent  Assembly,  in  de- 
stroying almost  all  which  existed  as  law  in 
France,  when  they  were  summoned  togeth- 
er as  States-general,  had  preserved,  at  least 
in  form,  the  name  and  power  of  a  monarch. 
The  Legislative  Assembly,  which  succeed- 
ed them,  seemed  preparing  to  destroy  the 
symbol  of  royalty  which  their  predecessors 
had  left  standing,  though  surrounded  by  re- 
publican enactments. 

The  composition  of  this  Second  Body 
of  Representatives  was  much  more  unfa- 
vourable to  the  lOyal  cause  than  that  of 
those  whom  they  succeeded.  In  a  bad  hour 
for  France  and  themselves,  the  Constituent 
Assembly  had  adopted  two  regulations, 
which  had  the  same  disabling  effect  on 
their  own  political  interest,  as  the  celebrat- 
ed self-denying  ordinance  in  the  Long  Par- 
liament had  upon  that  of  the  Presbyterians. 
Bv  the  first  of  these  decrees,  the  members 
of  the  Constituent  Assembly  were  render- 
ed incapable  of  being  elected  to  that  which 
should  succeed  its  dissolution.  By  the  sec- 
ond, they  were  declared  ineligible  to  be 
ministers  of  the  crown,  until  two  years  had 
elapsed  after  their  sitting  as  legislators. 
Those  individuals  who  had  already  acquir- 
ed some  politiral  knowledge  and  informa- 
tion, were  thus  virtually  excluded  from  the 
counsels  of  the  state,  and  pronounced  inad- 
missible into  the  service  of  the  crown. 
This  exclusion  was  adopted  upon  the  wild 
principle  of  levelling,  which  was  oive  prime 
moving  spring  of  the  Revolution,  and 
which  affected  to  destroy  even  the  natural 
iristocracy  of  talents.    "  Who  are  the  di$- 


tinguished  members  whom  the  speaker 
mentions  ?"  said  a  Jacobin  orator,  in  the 
true  spirit  of  this  imnginary  equality ; — 
"  There  are  no  members  of  the  Assembly 
more  distinguished  than  others  by  talents  or 
skill,  any  more  than  by  birth  or  rank — We 
are  all  equal."  Rare  words  indeed,  and 
flattering,  doubtless,  to  many  in  tne  Assem- 
bly. Unhappily,  no  legislative  decree  can 
give  sense  to  folly,  or  experience  to  igno- 
rance ;  it  could  only  prevent  a  certain  por- 
tion of  wisdom  and  talent  from  being  called 
into  the  service  of  the  couatr^-.  Both 
King  and  people  were  necessarily  oWiged 
to  put  their  confidence  in  men  of  inexperi- 
ence in  business,  liable  to  act  with  all  the 
rashness  by  which  inexperience  is  general- 
ly attended.  As  the  Constituent  Assembly 
contained  the  first  and  readiest  choice 
among  the  men  of  ability  whom  France 
had  in  her  bosom,  it  followed  that  the  sec- 
ond Assembly  could  not  be  equal  to  the 
first  in  abundance  of  talent ;  but  still  the 
Legislative  Assembly  held  in  its  ranks  ma- 
ny men  of  no  ordinary  acquirements,  and  a 
few  of  a  corresponding  boldness  and  de- 
termination of  character.  A  slight  review 
of  the  parties  into  which  it  was  divided, 
will  show  how  much  the  influence  of  the 
Crown  was  lowered  in  the  scale. 

There  was  no  party  remained  which  could 
be  termed  strictly  or  properly  Royalist. 
Those  who  were  attached  to  the  old  mon- 
archy of  France  were  now  almost  all  ex- 
iles, and  there  were  left  but  few  even  of  that 
second  class  of  more  moderate  and  more 
reasonable  Royalists,  who  desired  to  estab- 


Chap.  VU.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


^1 


lishafree  constitution  on  the  basis  of  an 
effective  monarchy,  strong  enough  to  pro- 
tect the  laws  against  licence,  but  not  suffi- 
ciently predominant  to  alter  or  overthrow 
them.  Cazalds,  whose  chivalrous  defence 
of  the  nobility, — Maury,  whose  eloquent 
pleadings  for  the  church — liad  so  often 
made  an  honourable  but  vain  struggle 
against  the  advances  of  revolution,  were 
now  silent  and  absent,  and  the  few  feeble 
remnants  of  their  party  had  ranged  them- 
selves with  the  Constitutionalists  who 
were  so  far  favourers  of-  monarchy  as  it 
made  part  of  their  favourite  system — and  no 
farther.  La  Fayette  continued  to  be  the 
organ  of  that  party,  and  had  assembled  un- 
der his  banners  Duport,  Barnave,  Lameth, 
all  of  whom  had  striven  to  keep  pace  with 
the  headlong  spirit  of  the  Revolution,  but, 
beingx)utstrippedby  more  active  and  forward 
champions  of  the  popular  cause,  now  shift- 
ed ground,  and  formed  a  union  with  tliose 
who  were  disposed  to  maintr.in,  that  the 
present  Constitution  was  adapted  to  all  the 
purposes  of  free  and  effectual  government, 
and  that,  by  its  creation,  all  farther  revolu- 
tionary measures  were  virtually  supersed- 
ed. 

In  stem  opposition  to  tho^e  admirers  of  the 
Constitution,  stood  two  bodies  of  unequal 
numbers,  strength,  and  efficacy;  of  which 
the  first  was  determined  that  the  Revolu- 
tion should  never  stop  until  the  downfall 
of  the  monarchy,  while  the  second  enter- 
tained the  equally  resolved  purpose  of  urg- 
ing these  changes  still  farther  onwards,  to 
the  total  destruction  of  all  civil  order,  and 
the  establishment  of  a  government  in  which 
terror  and  violence  should  be  the  ruling 
principles,  to  be  wielded  by  the  hands  of  the 
demagogues  who  dared  to  nourish  a  scheme 
80  nefarious.  We  have  indicated  the  exist- 
ence of  both  these  parties  in  the  first,  or 
Constituent  Assembly  ;  but  in  the  second, 
called  the  Legislative,  they  assumed  a  more 
decided  form,  and  appeared  united  towards 
the  abolition  of  royalty  as  a  common  end, 
though  certain,  when  it  was  attained,  to  dis- 
pute with  each  other  the  use  which  was 
to  be  made  of  the  victory.  In  the  words 
of  Shakspeare,  they  ^verc  determined 

"  To  lay  this  Angiers  even  with  the  ground, 
Then,  after,  fight  who  should  be  king  of  it." 

The  first  of  these  parties  took  its  most 
common  denomination  irom  the  Gironde, 
a  department  which  sent  most  of  its  mem- 
bers to  the  Convention.  Condorcet,  dear  to 
science,  was  one  of  this  party,  and  it  was  of- 
ten named  from  Brissot,  another  of  its  princi- 
pal lead»s.  Its  most  distinguished  chain- 
piona  were  men  bred  as  lawyers  in  the  south 
of  France,  who  had,  by  mutual  flattery,  and 
the  habit  of  living  much  together,  acquired 
no  small  portion  of  that  self-conceit  and 
overweening  opinion  of  each  other's  tal- 
ents, which  may  be  frequently  found  among 
small  provincial  .associations  for  politico  I 
or  literary  purposes.  Many  had  eloquence, 
and  most  of  them  a  high  fund  of  enthusi- 
asm, which  a  classical  education,  and  their 
intimate  communication  with  each  other, 
where  each  idea  was  caught  up,  lauded,  re- 
V«i.  I.  ^  D% 


echoed,  and  enhanced,  had  exalted  into  a 
spirit  of  republican  zeal.  They  doubtless 
had  personal  ambition,  but  in  gener.al  it 
seems  not  to  have  been  of  a  low  or  selfish 
character.  Their  aims  were  often  honour- 
able though  visionary,  and  they  march.ed 
with  great  courage  towards  their  proposed 
goal,  with  the  vain  purpose  of  erecting  a 
pure  republic,  in  a  state  so  disturbed  at; 
that  of  France,  and  by  hands  so  polluted  as 
those  of  their  Jacobin  associates.  It  will 
be  recorded,  however,  to  the  disgrace  of 
their  pretensions  to  stern  republican  vir- 
tue, that  the  Girondists  were  willing  to  em- 
ploy, for  the  accomplishment  of  their 
purpose,  those  base  and  guilty  tools  which 
alterwards  effected  their  own  destruction. 
They  were  for  using  the  revolutionary 
means  of  insurrection  and  violence,  until 
the  republic  should  be  established,  and  no 
longer  ;  or,  in  the  words  of  the  satirist, 

"  For  letting  Rapine  ioose,  and  Murther, 
To  rage  just  so  far,  but  no  further ; 
And  setting  all  the  land  on  fire 
To  burn  to  a  scantling,  but  no  higher." 

The  Jacobins — the  second  of  these  parties 
— were  allies  of  the  Brissotins,  with  the  ul- 
terior purpose  of  urging  the  revolutionary 
force  to  the  uttermost,  but  using  as  yet  the 
shelter  of  their  republican  mantle.  Robes- 
pierre, who,  by  an  affectation  of  a  frugal 
and  sequestered  course  of  life,  preserved 
among  the  multitude  the  title  of  tlie  Incor- 
ruptible, might  oe  considered  as  the  head 
of  the  Jacobins,  if  they  had  indeed  a  lead- 
er more  than  wolves  have,  which  tune  their 
united  voices  to  the  cry  of  him  who  bays 
the  loudest.  Danton,  inexorable  as  Robes- 
pierre himself,  but  less  prudent,  because  he 
loved  gold  and  pleasure  as  well  as  blood 
and  power,  was  next  in  authority.  Marat, 
who  loved  to  talk  of  murder  as  soldiers  do 
of  battles  ;  the  wretched  Collot  d'Herbois, 
a  broken-down  play-actor ;  Chabot,  an  ex- 
capuchin  ;  with  many  other  men  of  despe- 
rate character,  whose  moderate  talents 
were  eked  cut  by  the  most  profligate  ef- 
frontery, formed  the  advanced  guard  of  this 
party,  soiled  with  every  epecies  of  crime, 
and  accustv.med  to  act  their  parts  in  the 
management  of  those  dreadful  insurrec- 
tions, which  had  at  once  promoted  and  dis- 
lionoured  the  Revolution.  It  is  needless 
to  preserve  from  oblivion  names  such  a.< 
.Santerre  and  Hebert,  distinguished  for 
cruelty  and  villany  above  the  other  subal- 
tern villains.  Such  was  the  party  who,  an 
the  side  of  the  Brissotins,  stood  prompt  to 
storm  the  last  bulwarks  of  the  Monarchy, 
reserving  to  themselves  the  secret  detev- 
ininakion,  that  the  spoil  should  be  all  their 
own. 

The  force  of  these  three  parties  was  as  v:!- 
riously  composed  as  their  principles.  That 
of  La  Fayette  ,  as  we  have  repeatedly  observ- 
ed, lay  amongst  the  better  order  of  shop- 
keepers and  citizens,  and  other  proprietors, 
who  had  assumed  arms  for  their  own  protec- 
tion, and  to  maintain  something  like  gene- 
ral good  order.  These  composed  the  stead- 
iest part  of  the  National  Guard,  and,  gene- 
rally speaking,  were  at  the  devotion  of  their 


82 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  Vn. 


commandant,  though  his  authority  was  re- 
sisted by  them  on  some  occasions,  and 
seemed  daily  to  grow  more  precarious. 
The  RoyaJists  might  perhaps  have  added 
some  forco  to  the  Constitutional  party,  but 
La  Fayette  did  not  now  possess  such  an  un- 
suspected character  with  the  so  called 
friends  of  freedom,  as  could  permit  him  to 
use  the  obnoxious  assistance  of  those  who 
were  termed  its  enemies.  His  high  char- 
acter as  a  military  man  still  sustained  an 
importance,  which,  nevertheless,  was  al- 
ready somewhat  on  the  wane. 

The  party  of  the  Gironde  had  in  their  fa- 
vour the  theoretical  amateurs  of  liberty  and 
equality,  young  men,  whose  heated  imagi- 
nations saw  the  Forum  of  ancient  Rome 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Palais  Royal,  and 
yielded  a  ready  assent  to  whatsoever  doc- 
trine came  recommended  by  a  flourishing 
and  eloquent  peroration,  and  was  rounded 
off  in  a  sounding  sentence,  or  a  quaint 
apothegm.  The  partisans  of  Brissot  had 
some  interest  in  the  southern  departments, 
who  had  sent  them  to  the  capital,  and  con- 
ceived that  they  had  a  great  deal  more. 
They  pretended  that  there  existed  in  those 
districts  a  purer  flame  of  freedom  than  in 
the  metropolis  itself,  and  held  out,  that 
Liberty,  if  expelled  from  Paris,  would  yet 
find  refuge  in  a  new  republic,  to  be  found- 
ed on  the  other  side  of  the  Loire.  Such 
day-dreams  did  not  escape  the  Jacobins, 
who  carefully  treasured  them  to  be  the 
apology  of  future  viol  once,  and  finally 
twisted  them  into  an  accusation  which  be- 
stowed on  the  Brissotins  the  odious  name 
of  Federalists,  and  charged  them  with  an 
intention  to  dismember  France,  by  split- 
ting it  into  a  league  of  petty  common- 
wealths, like  those  of  Holland  and  Swit- 
zerland. 

The  Brissotins  had  a  point  of  union  in 
the  saloon  of  Madame  Roland,  wife  to  one 
of  their  number.  The  beauty,  talents, 
courage,  and  accomplishments  of  this  re- 
markable woman,  pushed  forward  into  pub- 
lic notice  a  husband  of  very  middling  abil- 
ities, and  preserved  a  high  influence  over 
the  association  of  philosophical  rhapsodists, 
who'hoped  to  oppose  pikes  with  syllogisms, 
and  to  govern  a  powerful  country  by  the 
<iiBcipline  of  an  academy. 

The  substantial  and  dreadful  support  of 
the  Jacobins  lay  in  the  Club  so  named,  witli 
the  yet  more  violent  association  of  Corde- 
liers and  their  original  affiliated  societies, 
which  reigned  paramount  over  those  of  the 
municipal  bodies,  which  in  most  depart- 
ments were  fain  to  crouch  under  their  stern 
and  sanguinary  dominion.  This  Club  had 
more  than  once  changed  masters,  for  its 
principal  and  leading  feature  being  the 
highest  point  of  democratical  ardour,  it 
drove  from  its  bosom  in  succession  those 
who  fell  short  of  the  utmost  pitch  of  ex- 
travagant zeal  for  liberty  and  equality,  man- 
ifested by  the  most  uncompromising  vio- 
lence. The  word  moderation  was  as  odi- 
ous in  this  society  as  could  have  been  that 
of  slavery,  and  he  who  could  afiect  the 
inost  exaggerated  and  outracreous  btrain  of 
patriotism,  was  sore  to  outstrip  their  former 


leaders.  Thus  the  Lameths  took  the  guid- 
ance of  the  Club  out  of  the  hands  of  La 
Fayette  ;  Robespierre,  and  Marat,  wrench- 
ed ^he  management  from  the  Lameths ; 
and,  considering  their  pitch  of  extravagant 
ferocity,  there  was  little  chance  of  their 
losing  it,  unless  an  .\vatar  of  the  Evil  Spirit 
had  brought  Satan  himself  to  dispute  the 
point  in  person. 

The  leaders,  who  were  masters  of  this 
Club,  had  possession,  as  we  have  often  re- 
marked, of  the  ma;ster-keys  to  the  passions 
of  the  populace,  could  raise  a  forest  of  pikes 
with  one  word,  and  unsheathe  a  thousand 
daggers  with  another.  They  directly  and 
openly  recommended  the  bloodiest  and 
most  ruflian-like  actions,  instead  of  those 
which,  belonging  to  open  and  manly  war- 
fare, present  something  that  is  generous 
even  in  the  midst  of  violence.  '■  Give  me," 
said  the  atrocious  iVIarat,  when  instructing 
Barbaroux  in  his  bloody  science, — "  Give 
me  two  hundred  Neapolitans — the  knife  in 
their  right  hand,  in  their  left  a  muff,  to 
serve  for  a  target — with  these  1  will  trav- 
erse France,  and  complete  the  revolution." 
At  the  same  lecture  he  made  an  exact  cal- 
culation, (for  the  monster  was  possessed  of 
some  science,)  showing  in  what  manner 
two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  men  might 
be  put  to  death  in  one  day.  Such  were  the 
means,  the  men,  and  the  plans  of  the  Jaco 
bins,  which  they  were  now,  in  the  Legisla- 
tive Assembly,  to  oppose  to  the  lukewarm 
loyalty  of  the  Constitutionalists,  and,  in 
the  hour  of  need,  to  the  fine-spun  republi- 
can theories  of  the  Brissotins.  But  ere  we 
proceed  iu  our  review  of  the  internal  af- 
fairs of  tlie  nation,  it  becomes  now  neces- 
sary to  glance  at  her  external  relations. 

Hitherto  France  had  acted  alone  in  this 
dreadful  tragedy,  while  the  other  nations 
of  Europe  looked  on  in  amazement,  which 
now  began  to  give  place  to  a  desire  of  ac- 
tion. No  part  of  public  law  is  more  subtle 
in  argument  than  that  which  pretends  to 
define  the  exact  circumstances  in  which, 
according  to  the  proper  interpretation  of 
the  Jus  Gentium,  one  nation  is  at  liberty, 
or  called  upon,  to  interfere  in  the  internal 
concerns  of  another.  If  my  next  neigh- 
bour's house  is  on  fire,  I  am  not  only  enti- 
tled, but  obliged,  by  the  rules  alike  of  pru- 
dence and  humanity,  to  lend  my  aid  to 
extinguish  it ;  or  if  a  cry  of  murder  arises 
in  his  household,  the  support  due  to  the 
law,  and  the  protection  of  the  innocent, 
will  excuse  my  forcible  entrance  upon  his 
premises.  These  are  extreme  cases  and 
easily  decided  ;  they  have  their  parallels 
in  the  laws  of  nations,  but  they  are  of  rare 
occurrence.  But  there  lies  between  them 
and  the  general  maxim,  prohibiting  the  un- 
called-for interference  of  one  party  in  what 
primarily  and  principally  concerns  another,  f, 
a  whole  terra  incognita  of  special  cases,  in 
which  it  may  be  diflicult  to  pronounce  any  I 
satisfactory  decision. 

In  the  history  of  nations,  however,  little 
practical  difficulty  has  been  felt,  for  wher- 
ever the  jurisconsults  have  fbund  a  Gordian 
knot,  the  sword  of  the  sovereign  has  sev- 
ered it  without  ceremony,    The  doubt  )is8 


cfcop-  yu] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


83 


OBually  been  decided  on  the  practical  ques- 
tions', What  benefit  the  neutral  power  is 
like  to  derive  from  his  interference  ?  And 
whether  he  possesses  the  power  of  using  it 
effectually,  and  to  his  own  advantage  ?  In 
free  countries,  indeed,  the  public  opinion 
must  be  listened  to  ;  but  man  is  the  same 
in  every  situation,  and  the  same  desire  of 
aggrandizement,  which  induces  an  arbitrary 
monarch  to  shut  his  ears  to  the  voice  of 
justice,  is  equally  powerful  with  senates 
and  popular  assemblies  j  and  aggressions 
have  been  as  frequently  made  by  republics 
and  limited  monarchs  on  the  independence 
of  their  neighbours,  as  by  those  princes  who 
have  no  bounds  to  their  own  royal  pleasure. 
The  gross  and  barefaced  injustice  of  the 
partition  of  Poland,  had  gone  far  to  extin- 
guish any  remains  of  hesitation  upon  such 
subjects,  and  might  be  said  to  be  a  direct 
recogniUon  of  the  right  of  the  strongest. 
There  would  not,  therefore,  have  wanted 
pretexts  for  interference  in  the  .affairs  of 
France,  of  the  nations  around  her,  had  any 
of  them  been  at  the  time  capable  of  bene- 
fiting by  the  supposed  opportunity. 

England,  the  rival  of  France,  might,  from 
the  example  of  that  country,  have  exercised 
a  right  of  interfering  with  her  domestic 
concerns,  in  requital  of  the  aid  which  slie 
afforded  to  the  .\mericar.s  ;  but  besides  that 
the  publicity  of  the  parliamentary  debates 
must  compel  the  most  ambitious  British 
minister  to  maintain  at  least  an  appearance 
erf"  respect  to  the  rights  of  other  countries, 
England  was  herself  much  divided  upon  the 
subject  of  the  French  Revolution. 

This  was  not  the  case  when  the  eventful 
ecene  first  commenced.  We  believe  that 
the  first  display  of  light,  reason,  and  rational 
liberty  in  France,  was  hailed  aa  a  day-spring 
through  all  Britain,  and  that  there  were 
few  if  any  in  that  country,  who  did  not  feel 
their  hearts  animated  and  enlarged  by  see- 
ing such  a  great  and  noble  nation  throwing 
aside  the  fetters,  which  at  once  restrained 
and  dishonoured  them,  and  assuming  the 
attitude,  language,  and  spirit  of  a  free  peo- 
ple. All  men's  thoughts  and  eyes  v.-ere 
bent  on  struggles,  which  seemed  to  promise 
the  regeneration  of  a  mighty,  country,  and 
the  British  generally  felt  as  if  days  of  old 
hate  and  mutual  rivalry  would  thereafter  be 
foigotten,  and  that  in  future  the  similarity 
of  liberal  institutions,  and  the  possession 
of  a  just  portion  of  rational  liberty  on  either 
side,  would  throw  kindness  and  cordiality 
into  the  intercourse  between  tlie  two  coun- 
tries, since  France  would  no  longer  have 
ground  to  contemn  F.ngland  as  a  country 
of  seditious  and  sullen  downs,  or  Britain 
to  despise  France  as  a  nation  of  williiiij 
slaves. 

This  universal  sympathy  was  not  remov- 
ed by  the  forcible  capture  of  the  Bastille, 
and  the  violences  of  the  people  on  tliat  oc- 
casion. The  name  of  that  fortress  wa.*  so 
unpopular,  as  to  palliate  and  apologise,  for 
the  excesses  which  took  plare  on  its  fall. 
and  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a  peo- 
ple 80  long  oppressed,  when  exerting  their 
Eower  for  the  first  time,  should  be  limited 
y  the  strict  bounds  of  moderation.    But  in 


England  there  always  have  been,  and  must 
exist,  two  parties  of  politicians,  who  will 
not  long  continue  to  regard  events  of  such 
an  interesting  nature  with  similar  sensa- 
tions. 

The  revolutionists  of  France  were  nat- 
urally desirous  to  obtain  the  applause  of 
the  elder-born  of  freedom,  and  the  socie- 
ties in  Britain,  which  assumed  the  charac- 
ter of  the  peculiar  admirers  and  protectors 
of  liberty,  conceived  themselves  obliged  ti> 
extend  their  countenance  to  the  changes  in 
the  neighbouring  nation.  Hence  there  arose 
a  great  intercourse  between  the  clubs  and 
self-constituted  bodies  in  Britain,  which  as- 
sumed the  extension  of  popular  freedom  as 
the  basis  of  their  association,  and  the  rev- 
olutionists in  France,  who  were  realizing 
tlie  systems  of  philosophical  theorists  up- 
on the  same  ground.  Warm  tributes  of  ap- 
plause were  transmitted  from  several  of 
tliese  associations  ;  the  ambassadors  sent 
to  convey  them  were  received  with  great 
distinction  by  the  National  Assembly  ;  and 
the  urbane  intercourse  which  took  place  on 
these  occasions,  led  to  exaggerated  admi- 
ration of  the  French  system  on  the  part  of 
those,  who  had  thus  unexpectedly  become 
the  medium  of  intercourse  between  a  great 
nation  and  a  few  private  societies.  The 
latter  were  gradually  induced  to  form  unfa- 
vourable comparisons  betwixt  the  Temple 
of  French  Freedom,  built,  as  it  seemed  to 
them,  upon  the  most  perfect  principles  of 
symmetry  and  uniformity,  and  that  in  which 
the  goddess  had  been  long  worshipped  in 
England,  and  which,  on  the  contrast,  ap- 
peared to  them  like  an  ancient  ediCce  con- 
structed in  barbaric  times,  and  incongru- 
ously encumbered  with  Gothic  ornaments 
and  emblems,  which  modern  political  arch- 
itects had  discarded.  But  these  political 
sages  overlooked  the  important  circum- 
stance, that  the  buttresses,  which  seemed 
in  some  respects  encumbrances  to  the  Eng- 
lish edifice,  might,  on  examination,  be 
found  to  add  to  its  stability ;  and  that  in 
fact  they  furnished  evidence  to  show,  that 
the  venerable  pile  was  built  with  cement 
fitted  to  endure  the  test  of  ages,  while  that 
of  France,  constructed  of  lath  daubed  with 
untempercd  mortar,  like  the  pageants  she 
exhibited  on  the  revolutionary  festivals, 
was  only  calculated  to  be  the  wonder  of  a 
day. 

The   earnest  admiration   of  either   party 
of  the  state  is  sure  in  England  to  be  balanr- 
ed  by  the  censure  of  the  other,  and  leads  to 
an  immediate  trial  of  strength  betv\'ixt  them. 
i  The  popular   side  is  always  the  more  loud, 
I  the  more  active,  the   more  imposing  of  the 
I  two  contending  parties.     It  is   formidable. 
j  from  the  body  of  talents  which  it  exhibits, 
I  (for  those  ambitious   of  distinction  are  iis- 
1  ually  friends  to  innovation,)  and  from  the 
i  unanimity  and    vigour    with   which   it  can 
I  Vfield   them.     There    may  be,  and   indeed 
I  always  are,  great  differences  in  the  point  to 
wliich  each  leader  is  desirous  to  carry  re- 
formation ;  but  they  are  unanimous   in  de- 
I  siring  its  commencement.   The  Opposition, 
also,  a-s  it  is  usually  termed,  has  always  in- 
cladcd  several  of  the  high  ariitocracy  of 


64 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VII. 


the  country,  whose  names  ennoble  their 
rank,  and  whose  large  fortunes  are  a  pledge, 
that  they  will,  for  their  own  sakes,  be  a 
check  upon  eager  and  violent  experiment- 
alists. The  Whigs,  moreover,  have  the 
means  of  influencing  assemblies  of  the 
lower  orders,  to  whom  the  name  of  liberty 
is,  and  ought  to  be  dear,  since  it  is  the 
privilege  which  must  console  them  for  nar- 
row circumstances  and  inferiority  of  condi- 
tion ;  and  these  means  the  party,  so  called, 
often  use  successfully,  always  with  indus- 
try and  assiduity. 

The  counterbalance  to  this  active  and 
powerful  body  is  to  be  found,  speaking  gen- 
erally, in  the  higher  classes  at  large — the 
great  mass  of  nobility  and  gentry — the  cler- 
gy of  the  Established  Church — the  superior 
branches  of  the  law — the  wealthier  of  the 
commercial  classes — and  the  bulk  of  those 
who  have  property  to  lose,  and  are  afraid 
of  endangering  it.  This  body  is  like  the 
Ban  of  the  Germanic  empire,  a  formidable 
force,  but  slow  and  diffident  in  its  opera- 
tions, and  requiring  the  stimulus  of  sudden 
alarm  to  call  it  into  effective  exercise.  To 
one  or  other  of  these  great  national 
parties,  every  Englishman,  of  education 
enough  to  form  an  opinion,  professes  to  be- 
long; with  a  perfect  understanding  on  the 
part  .of  all  men  of  sense  and  probity,  that 
the  general  purpose  is  to  ballast  the  vessel 
of  the  state,  not  to  overset  it,  and  that  it  be- 
comes a  state-treason  in  any  one  to  follow 
his  party  when  they  carry  their  doctrines  to 
extremity. 

From  the  nature  of  this  grand  national 
division  it  follows,  that  the  side  which  is 
most  popular  should  be  prompt  in  adopting 
theories,  and  eager  in  recommending  meas- 
ures of  alteration  and  improvement.  It  is 
by  such  measures  that  men  of  talents  rise 
into  importance,  and  by  such  that  the  popu- 
lar part  of  the  constitution  is  maintained  in 
its  integrity.  The  other  party  is  no  less 
useful,  by  opposing  to  each  successive  at- 
tempt at  innovation  the  delays  of  form,  the 
doubts  of  experience,  the  prejudices  of 
rank  and  condition,  legal  objections,  and 
the  weight  of  ancient  and  established  prac- 
tice. Thus,  measures  of  a  doubtful  ten- 
dency are  severely  scrutinized  in  Parlia- 
ment, and  if  at  length  adopted,  it  is  only 
when  public  opinion  has  long  declared  in 
their  favour,  and  when,  men's  minds  having 
become  habituated  to  the  discu.=sion,  their 
introduction  into  our  system  cannot  pro- 
duce the  violent  effect  of  absolute  novelty. 
If  there  were  no  Whigs,  our  constitution 
would  fall  to  pieces  for  want  of  repair;  if 
there  were  no  Tories,  it  would  be  broken 
in  the  course  of  a  succession  of  rash  and 
venturous  experiments. 

It  .'olio wed  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
the  Whigs  of  Britain  looked  witli  compla- 
cence, the  Tories  with  jealousy,  upon  tlie 
progress  of  the  new  principles  in  France  ; 
but  the  latter  had  a  powerful  ami  unexpect- 
ed auxiliary  in  the  person  of  Edmund 
Burke,  whose  celebrated  Reflections  on  the 
French  Revolution  had  the  most  striking 
efTect  on  the  public  mind,  of  any  work  in 
our  time.    There  was  something  exaggerat- 


ed at  all  times  in  the  character  as  well  as 
the  eloquence  of  that  great  man ;  and  upon 
reading  at  this  distance  of  time  his  cele- 
brated composition,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  the  colours  he  has  used  in  painting  the 
extravagancies  of  the  Revolution,  ought  to 
have  been  softened,  by  considering  the  pe- 
culiar state  of  a  country,  which,  long  la- 
bouring under  despotism,  is  suddenly  re- 
stored to  the  possession  of  unembarrassed 
license.  On  the  other  hand,  no  political 
prophet  ever  viewed  futurity  with  a  surer 
ken.  He  knew  how  to  detect  the  secret 
purpose  of  the  various  successive  tribes  of 
revolutionists,  and  saw  in  the  constitution 
the  f^uture  republic  ;  in  the  republic  the 
reign  of  anarchy  ;  from  anarchy  he  predict- 
ed military  despotism,  and  from  military 
despotism,  last  to  be  fulfilled,  and  hardest 
to  be  believed,  he  prophesied  the  late  but 
secure  resurrection  of  the  legitimate  mon- 
archy. Above  all,  when  the  cupidity  of  the 
French  rulers  aspired  no  farther  than  the 
forcible  possession  of  Avignon  and  the 
Venaissin  territories,  he  foretold  their  pur- 
pose of  extending  the  empire  of  France  by 
means  of  her  new  political  theories,  and, 
under  pretext  of  propagating  the  principles 
of  freedom,  her  project  of  assailing  with 
her  arras  the  stages,  whose  subjects  had 
been  already  seduced  by  her  doctrines. 

The  work  of  Burke  raised  a  thousand  en- 
emies to  the  French  Revolution,  who  had 
before  looked  upon  it  with  favour,  or  at 
least  with  in'.lifference.  A  very  large  por- 
tion of  the  talents  and  aristocracy  of  the 
opposition  party  followed  Burke  into  the 
ranks  of  the  ministry,  who  saw  with  pleas- 
ure a  member,  noted  for  his  zeal  in  the 
cause  of  the  Americans,  become  an  avow- 
ed enemy  of  the  French  Revolution,  and 
with  equal  satisfaction  heard  him  use  argu- 
ments, which  might  in  their  own  mouths 
have  assumed  an  obnoxious  and  suspicious 
character. 

But  the  sweeping  terms  in  which  the  au- 
thor reprobated  all  attempts  at  state  refor- 
mation, in  which  he  had  himself  been  at 
one  time  so  powerful  an  agent,  subjected 
him  to  the  charge  of  inconsistency  among 
his  late  friends,  many  of  whcni,  and  Fox  in 
particular,  declared  themselves  favourable 
to  the  progress  of  the  Revolution  in  France, 
thougli  they  did  not  pretend  to  excuse  its 
excesses.  Out  of  Parliament  it  met  more 
unlimited  applause  ;  for  England,  as  well  43 
France,  had  talent  impatient  of  obscurity, 
ardour  which  demanded  employment,  am- 
bition which  sought  distinction,  and  men  of 
headlong  passions,  who  expected  in  a  new 
order  of  things  more  unliwiited  means  of 
indulging  them.  The  middling  classes 
were  open  in  England  as  elsewhere,  though 
not  perhaps  so  much  so,  to  the  tempting  of- 
fer of  incrensed  power  and  importance  ; 
and  the  populace  of  London  and  other  large 
towns  loved  license  as  well  as  the  sans  cu- 
lottes of  France.  Hence  the  division  of  the 
country  into  .Vristocrats  and  Democrats,  the 
introduction  of  political  hatred  into  the  bo- 
som of  families,  and  the  dissolution  of  ma- 
ny a  band  of  friendship  which  had  stood  the 
strain  of  a  life-time.    One  part  of  the  king- 


Chap.  VIl] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


85 


dom  looked  upon  Uie  other  with  the  stem 
and  relentless  glance  of  keepers  who  are  re- 
straining madmen,  while  the  others  bent  on 
them  the  furious  glare  of  madmen  conspir- 
ing revenge  on  their  keepers. 

From  this  period  the  progress  of  the 
French  Revolution  seemed  in  England  like 
a  play  presented  upon  the  stage,  where  two 
contending  factions  divide  the  audience, 
and  hiss  or  applaud  as  much  from  party 
spirit  as  from  real  critical  judgment,  while 
every  instant  increases  the  probability  that 
they  will  try  the  question  by  actual  force. 

Still,  though  the  nation  was  thus  divided 
on  account  of  French  politics,  England  and 
France  observed  the  usual  rules  of  amity, 
and  it  seemed  that  the  English  were  more 
likely  to  wage  hostility  with  each  other  than 
to  declare  war  against  France. 

There  was  in  other  kingdoms  and  states 
upon  the  Continent,  the  same  diversity  of 
feelings  respecting  the  Revolution  which 
divided  England.  The  favour  of  the  lower 
and  unprivileged  classes,  in  Germany  espe- 
cially, was  the  more  fixed  upon  the  prog- 
ress of  the  French  Revolution,  because  they 
lingered  under  the  same  incapacities  from 
which  the  changes  in  France  had  delivered 
the  Commons,  or  Third  Estate,  of  that 
country.  Thus  far  their  partiality  was  not 
only  natural  and  innocent,  but  praisewor- 
thy. It  is  as  natural  for  ajnan  to  desire 
the  natural  liberty  from  which  he  is  un- 
justly excluded,  as  it  is  for  those  who  are 
in  an  apartment  where  the  air  is  polluted, 
to  wish  for  the  wholesome  atmosphere. 

Unhappily  these  justifiable  desires  were 
connected  with  others  of  a  description  less 
harmless  and  beneficial.  The  French  Rev- 
olution had  proclaimed  war  on  castles,  as 
well  as  peace  to  cottages.  Its  doctrine  and 
practice  held  out  the  privileged  classes  in 
every  country  as  the  natural  tyrants  and  op- 
pressors of  the  poor,  whom  it  encouraged 
by  the  thousand  tongues  of  its  declaimers 
to  pull  down  their  thrones,  overthrow  their 
altars,  renounce  the  empire  of  God  above, 
and  of  kings  below,  and  arise,  like  regene- 
rated France,  alike  from  thraldom  emd  from 
superstition.  And  such  opinions,  calling 
upon  the  other  nations  of  Europe  to  follow 
them  in  their  democratic  career,  were  not 
only  trumpeted  forth  in  all  affiliated  clubs 
of  the  Jacobins,  whose  influence  in  the  Na- 
tional Assembly  was  formidable,  but  were 
formally  recognized  by  that  body  itself  up- 
on an  occasion,  which,  but  for  the  momen- 
tous omen  it  presented,  might  have  been 
considered  as  the  most  ridiculous  scene  ev- 
er gravely  acted  before  the  legislators  of  a 
great  nation. 

There  was  in  Paris  a  native  of  Prussia,  an 
exile  from  his  country,  whose  brain,  none 
of  the  soundest  by  nature,  seems  to  have 
been  afiacted  by  the  progress  of  the  Revo- 
lution, as  that  of  ordinary  madmen  is  said  to 
be  influence  i  by  the  increase  of  the  moon. 
This  personage  having  become  disgusted 
with  his  baptismal  name,  had  adopted  that 
of  the  Scythian  philosopher,  and  uniting  it 
with  his  own  Teutonic  family  appellation, 
entitled  himself— "  Anacharsia  Klootz,  Or- 
ator G^  the  Human  Race." 


It  could  hardly  be  expected,  that  the  aa- 
sumption  of  such  a  title  should  remain  un- 
distinguished by  some  supreme  act  of  folly. 
Accordingly,  the  self-dubbed  Anacharsis  set 
on  foot  a  procession,  which  was  intended 
to  exhibit  the  representatives  of  delegates 
from  all  nations  upon  earth,  to  assist  at  the 
Feast  of  the  Federation  of  the  14th  July, 
1790,  by  which  the  French  nation  propos- 
ed to  celebrate  the  Revolution.  In  recruit- 
ing his  troops,  the  Orator  easily  picked  up  a 
few  vagabonds  of  ditFerent  countries  in  rsr 
ria  ;  but  as  Chaldeans,  Illinois,  and  Siberi- 
ans, are  not  so  common,  the  delegates  of 
those  more  distant  tribes  were  chosen 
among  the  rabble  of  the  city,  and  subsidized 
at  the  rate  of  about  twelve  francs  each. 
We  are  sorry  we  cannot  tell  whether  the 
personage,  whose  dignity  was  much  insist- 
ed upon  as  "  a  Miltonic  Englishman,"  was 
genuine,  or  of  Parisian  manufacture.  If  the 
last,  he  must  have  been  worth  seeing. 

Anacharsis  Klootz,  having  got  his  ragged 
regiment  equipped  in  costume  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  refuse  of  some  theatrical  ward- 
robe, conducted  them  in  solemn  procession 
to  the  bar  of  the  National  Assembly,  pre- 
sented them  as  the  representatives  of  all  the 
nations  on  earth,  awakened  to  a  sense  of 
their  debased  situation  by  the  choral  voices 
of  twenty-five  millions  of  freemen,  and  de- 
manding that  the  sovereignty  of  the  peo- 
ple should  be  acknowledged,  and  their  op- 
pressors destroyed,  through  all  the  uni- 
verse, as  well  as  in  France. 

So  far  this  absurd  scene  was  the  extrav- 
agance of  a  mere  madman,  and  if  the  As- 
sembly had  sent  Anacharsis  to  Bedlam, 
and  his  train  to  the  Bic6tre,  it  would  have 
ended  as  such  a  farce  ought  to  have  done. 
But  the  President,  in  the  name  of  the  At- 
sembly,  Monsieur  deMenou,  (the  same,  we 
believe,  who  afterwards  turned  Turk  when 
in  Egypt.)  applauded  the  zeal  of  the  Orator, 
and  received  the  homage  of  his  grotesque 
attendants  as  if  they  had  been  what  they 
pretended,  the  deputies  of  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe.  To  raise  the  jest  to  the  high- 
est, Alexander  Lameth  proposed, — as  the 
feelings  of  these  august  pilgrims  must  ne- 
cessarily be  hurt  to  see,  in  the  land  of  free- 
dom, those  kneeling  figures  representing 
conquered  nations,  which  surround  the 
statue  of  Louis  XV., — that,  from  respect  to 
this  body  of  charlatans,  these  figures  should 
be  forthwith  demolished.  This  was  doite 
accordingly,  and  the  destruction  of  these 
symbols  was  regarded  as  a  testimony  of  the 
assistance  which  France  was  ready  to  ren- 
der such  states  as  should  require  her  assis- 
tance, for  following  in  the  revolutionary 
course.  The  scene,  laughable  in  itself,  be- 
came serious  when  its  import  was  consider- 
ed, and  went  far  to  persuade  the  govern- 
ments of  the  neighbouring  countries,  that 
the  purpose  of  France  was  to  revolutionize 
Europe,  and  spread  the  reign  of  liberty  and 
equality  over  all  the  civilized  nations  of 
the  globe.  Hopes  so  flattering  as  these, 
which  should  assign  to  the  commons  not 
merely  freedom  from  unjust  restraints  and 
disqualifications,  (and  that  granted  with  re- 
serve^ and  only  in  proportion  as  they  bt • 


86 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VII. 


came  qualified  to  use  it  with  advantage,') 
but  their  hour  of  command  and  sovereiL'ii- 
ty,  with  the  privilege  of  retaliation  on  those 
who  had  so  long  kept  them  in  bondage, 
were  sure  to  find  a  general  good  reception 
among  all  to  whom  they  were  addressed, 
in  whatsoever  country  ;  while,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  fears  of  existing  governments  for 
the  propagation  of  doctrines  so  seductive 
in  themselves,  and  which  France  seemed 
apparently  prepared  to  support  with  arms, 
were  excited  in  an  equal,  proportion. 

It  is  true  that  the  National  Assembly  h^d 
formerly  declared  that  France  renounced 
the  unphilosophical  practices  of  extending 
her  limits  by  conquest,  but  although  this 
disavowal  spoke  to  the  ear,  it  was  contra- 
dicted by  the  annexation  of  those  desirable 
possessions,  the  ancient  city  of  Avignon, 
and  the  district  called  the  Comiat  Venais- 
sin,  to  the  kingdom  of  France;  while  the 
principle  on  which  the  annexation  was  de- 
termined on,  seemed  equally  applicable  in 
all  similar  cases. 

A  dispute  had  broken  out  betwixt  the 
aristocrats  and  democrats,  in  the  town  and 
province  in  question  ;  blood  had  flowed  ;  a 

Cart  of  the  population  had  demanded  to 
ecome  citizens  of  regenerated  France. 
Would  it  be  worthy  of  the  Protectress  of 
Liberty,  said  the  advocates  for  the  annex- 
ation, to  repel  from  her  bosom  supplicants, 
who  panted  to  share  the  freedom  they  liad 
achieved  1  And  so  Avignon  and  the  Com- 
tat  Venaissin  were  declared  lawful  prize, 
and  reunr/cd  to  France,  (so  went  the  phrase.) 
as  Napoleon  afterwards  reunited  the  broken 
fragments  of  the  empire  of  Charlemagne. 
The  prescient  eye  of  Burke  easily  detected, 
in  these  petty  and  surreptitious  acquisi- 
tions, the  gigantic  plan  by  which  France  af- 
terwards encircled  herself  by  the  depend- 
ent states,  which,  while  termed  allies  and 
auxiliaries,  were  in  fact  her  most  devoted 
subjects,  and  the  governments  of  which 
changed  their  character  from  monarchical 
to  popular,  like  the  Great  Nation. 

The  princes  at  the  head  of  despotic  gov- 
ernments were,  of  course,  most  interested 
in  putting  an  end,  if  it  were  possible,  to  the 
present  Revolution  of  France,  and  extin- 
guishing a  flame  which  appeared  so  threat- 
ening to  its  neighbours.  Yet  there  was  a 
long  hesitation  ere  any  thing  to  this  pur- 
pose was  attempted.  Austria,  whom  the 
matter  concerned  as  so  near  an  allv  of 
France,  was  slow  ere  she  made  any  deci- 
sive step  towards  hostility.  The  emperor 
Joseph  was  too  much  embroiled  by  the  dis- 
Hcneions  which  he  had  provoked  in  the 
Netherlands,  to  involve  himself  in  war  with 
France.  His  successor,  Leopold,  had  been 
always  reckoned  to  belong  to  the  philosoph- 
ical party.  He  put  down,  without  much 
trouble,  the  insurrection  which  had  nearly 
cost  his  brother  the  dominion  of  Flanders, 
and  as  he  used  the  victory  with  moderation, 
it  seemed  unlikely  that  the  tranquillity  of 
his  government  should  be  again  disturbed. 
Still,  it  would  have  been  hazardous  to  ex- 
pose the  allegiance  of  the  subjects,  so  new- 
ly restored  to  order,  to  the  temptations 
which  must  have  opened  to  the  Flemiogs 


by  engaging  m  a  war  with  France,  and  Leo- 
pold, far  from  seeking  for  a  ground  of  quar- 
rel with  the  favourers  of  the  Revolution, 
entered  into  frendly  relations  with  the  gov- 
ernment which  they  established  ;  and,  with 
anxiety,  doubtless,  for  the  safety  of  his 
brother-in-law,  and  an  earnest  desire  to  see 
the  government  of  France  placed  on  some- 
thing like  a  steady  fooling,  the  Emperor 
continued  in  amicable  terms  with  the  ex- 
isting rulers  of  that  country  down  till  his 
death.  Francis,  his  successor,  for  some 
time  seemed  to  adopt  the  same  pacific  pol- 
icy. 

Prussia,  justly  proud  of  her  noble  army, 
her  veteran  commanders,  and  the  bequest  of 
military  fame  left  her  by  the  Great  Frederick, 
was  more  eager  than  Austria,  to  adopt  what 
began  to  be  called  the  cause  of  Kings  and 
Nobles,  though  the  sovereign  of  the  latter 
kingdom  was  so  nearly  connected  with  the 
unfortunate  Louis.  Frederick  William  had 
been  taught  to  despise  revolutionary  move- 
ments by  his  cheap  victory  over  the  Dutch 
democracy,  while  the  resistance  of  the  Low 
Countries  had  induced  the  Austrians  to 
dread  such  explosions. 

Russia  declared  herself  hostile  to  the 
French  Revolution,  but  hazarded  no  effect- 
ive step  against  them.  The  King  of  Swe- 
den, animated  by  the  adventurous  charac 
ter  which  made  (iustavus,  and  after  him 
Charles,  sally  fortlifrom  their  frozen  realms 
to  influence  the  fates  of  Europe,  showed 
the  strongest  disposition  to  play  the  same 
•part,  though  the  limited  state  of  his  re- 
sources rendered  his  valour  almost  nuga- 
tory. 

Thus,  while  so  many  mcreasing  discon- 
tents and  suspicious  shovved  that  a  decision 
by  arms  became  every  day  more  inevitable, 
Europe  seemed  still  reluctant  to  commence 
the  fatal  encounter,  as  if  the  world  had  an- 
ticipated the  long  duration  of  the  dreadful 
struggle,  and  the  millions  of  lives  which  it 
must  cost  to  bring  it  to  a  termination. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  emigration 
of  the  French  princes,  followed  by  a  great 
part  of  the  nobles  of  France,  a  step  ill-judg- 
ed in  itself,  as  removing  beyond  the  fron- 
tiers of  the  country  all  those  most  devoted- 
ly interested  in  the  preservation  of  the 
monarchy,  had  the  utmost  effect  in  precipi- 
tating the  impending  hostilities.  The  pres- 
ence of  so  many  noble  exiles,  the  respect 
and  sympathy  which  their  misfortanes  ex- 
cited in  those  of  the  same  rank,  the  exagger- 
ated accounts  which  they  gave  of  their  own 
consequence,  above  all,  the  fear  that  the 
revolutionary  spirit  should  extend  beyond 
the  limits  of  France,  and  work  the  same 
effects  in  other  nations,  produced  through 
the  whole  aristocracy  of  Germany  a  gene- 
ral desire  to  restore  them  to  their  country 
and  to  their  rights  by  the  force  of  arms,  and 
to  extinguish  by  main  force  a  spirit  which 
seemed  destined  to  wage  war  against  all 
established  governments,  and  to  abolish  the 
privileges  which  they  recognized,  in  their 
higher  classes. 

The  state  of  the  expatriated  French  cler- 
gy, driven  from  their  home,  and  deprived  of 
their  means  of  subsistence^  because  tbey 


Chap.  VU.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


87 


refused  an  oath  imposed  contrary  to  their  ec- 
clesiastical vows,  and  to  their  conscience, 
added  religious  zeal  to  the  general  interest 
excited  by  the  spectacle,  yet  new  to  Europe, 
of  thousands  of  nobility  and  clergy  compell- 
ed to  forsake  their  country,  and  take  refuge 
among  aliens. 

Several  petty  princes  of  the  empire  made 
A  show  of  levying  forcss,  and  complained 
of  a  breach  of  public  faith,  from  the  forfeit- 
ure of  rights  which  individual  princes  of 
toe  Germanic  body  possessed  in  Alsace  and 
Lorraine,  and  which,  though  sanctioned  by 
the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  the  National  As- 
sembly had  not  deemed  worthy  of  excep- 
tion from  their  sweeping  abolition  of  feudal 
tenures.  The  emigrants  formed  themselves 
into  armed  corps  at  Treves  and  elsewhere, 
in  which  the  noblest  youths  in  France  car- 
ried arms  as  privates,  and  which,  if  their 
number  and  resources  had  been  in  any  pro- 
portion to  their  zeal  and  courage,  were 
qualified  to  bear  a  distinguished  part  in  de- 
ciding the  destinies  of  the  nation.  Thus 
united,  they  gave  way  but  too  much  to  the 
natural  feelings  of  their  rank  and  country, 
menaced  the  land  from  which  they  had  em- 
igrated, and  boasted  aloud  that  it  needed 
but  one  thrust  {botte)  of  an  Austrian  Gen- 
eral, to  parry  and  pay  home  all  the  decrees 
of  the  National  Assembly.  This  ill-timed 
anticipation  of  success  was  founded  in  a 
great  measure  on  the  disorganization  of  the 
French  army,  which  had  been  begun  by  the 
decay  of  discipline  during  tire  progress  of 
the  Revolution,  and  was  supposed  to  be 
rendered  complete  by  the  emigration  of 
such  numbers  of  officers  as  had  joined  the 
princes  and  their  standards.  It  was  yet  to 
be  learned  how  soon  such  situations  can  be 
tilled  up,  from  the  zeal  and  talent  always 
found  among  the  lower  classes,  when  crit- 
ical circumstances  offer  a  reward  to  ambi- 
tion. 

Yet  while  confident  of  success,  the  po- 
sition of  the  emigrants  was  far  from. being 
flattering.  Notwithstanding  their  most  zeal- 
ous exertions,  the  princes  found  their  in- 
terest with  foreign  courts  unable  to  bring 
either  kings  or  ministers  willingly  or  hasti- 
ly'to  the  point  which  they  desired.  The 
nearest  approach  was  by  the  declaration  of 
Pilnitz,*  in  which,  with  much  diplomatical 
caution,  the  Emperor  and  King  of  Prussia 
announced  the  interest  which  they  took  in 
the  actual  condition  of  the  King  of  France  ; 
and  intimated,  that,  supposing  the  other 
nations  appealed  to  should  entertain  feel- 
ings of  the  same  kind,  they  would,  conjoin- 
ed with  those  other  powers,  use  the  most 
efficacious  means  to  place  Louis  in  a  situa- 
tion to  establish  in  his  dominions,  on  the 
basis  of  the  most  perfect  liberty,  a  monarch- 
ical government,  suitable  to  the  rights  of 
the  sovereign,  and  the  welfare  of  the  people. 

This  implied  threat,  which  was  to  be 
conditionally  carried  into  effect  in  case 
other  powers  not  named  should  entertain 
the  same  sentiments  with  the  two  sove- 
rei^s  by  whom  it  was  issued,  was  well  cal- 
culated to  irritate,  but  far  too  vague  to  in- 


•23d  August,  1791, 


timidate,  such  a  nation  as  France.  It  show- 
ed the  desire  to  wound,  but  showed  it  ac- 
companied by  the  fear  to  strike,  and  instead 
of  inspiring  respect,  only  awakened  indig- 
nation mingled  with  contempt. 

The  emigrants  were  generally  represent- 
ed among  the  people  of  France,  as  men, 
who,  to  recover  their  own  vain  privileges, 
were  willing  to  lead  a  host  of  foreigners 
into  the  bosom  of  their  country ;  and  lest 
some  sympathy  with  their  situation,  as  men 
suffering  for  the  cause  to  which  they  had 
devoted  themselves,  and  stimulated  by  am-  ^ 
iety  for  the  fate  of  their  imprisoned  King, 
should  have  moderated  the  severity  of  this 
judgment,  forgery  was  employed  to  render 
their  communication  with  the  foreign  mon-  '• 
su-chs  still  more  odious  and  unpopular.  j 

The  secret  articles  of  a  pretended  treaty 
were  referred  to,  by  which  it  was  alleged  ' 
that  Monsieur  and  the  Compte  d'Artois 
had  agreed  to  a  dismemberment  of  France  ; 
Lorraine  and  Alsace  being  to  be  restored 
to  Austria,  in  consequence  of  her  entering 
into  the  counter-revolutionary  league.  The 
date  of  this  supposed  treaty  was  first  placed 
at  Pavia^  and  afterwards  transferred  to  Pil- 
nitz 5  but  although  it  was-  at  one  time  as- 
sumed as  a  real  document  in  the  British 
House  of  Commons,  it  is  now  generally  al- 
lowed to  have  had  no  existence.*  In  the 
meanwhile,  as  a  calumny  well  adapted  to 
the  prejudices  of  the  time,  the  belief  in 
such  a  secret  compact  became  generally 
current,  and  excited  the  utmost  indignation 
against  the  selfish  invaders,  and  against  the 
exiles  who  were  supposed  willing  to  dis- 
member their  native  country,  rather  than 
submit  to  a  change  in  its  constitution  ad- 
verse to  their  own  selfish  interests. 

A  great  deal  of  this  new  load  of  unpopu- 
larity was  transferred  to  the  account  of  the 
unfortunate  Louis,  who  was  supposed  to 
instigate  and  support  in  private  the  attempts 
of  his  brothers  for  engaging  foreign  courts 
in  his  favour,  while  the  Queen,  from  her 
relationship  to  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  was 
universally  represented  as  a  fury,  urging 
him  to  revenge  her  loss  of  power  on  the 
rebellious  people  of  France.  An  Austrian 
committee  was  talked  of  as  managing  th"e 
correspondence  between  these  royal  per- 
sons on  the  one  part,  and  the  foreign  courts 
and  emigrant  princes  on  the  other.  This 
was  totally  groundless  ;  but  it  is  probable 
and  natural  that  some  intercourse  was  main- 
tained between  Louis  and  his  brothers,  ae, 
though  their  warlike  schemes  suited  the 
King's  temper  too  little,  he  might  wish  to 
derive  advantage  from  the  dread  which  it 
was  vainly  supposed  their  preparations 
would  inspire.  The  royal  pair  were  indeed 
in  a  situation  so  disastrous,  that  they  might 
have  been  excused  for  soliciting  rescue  by 
almost  any  means.  But,  in  fact,  Louis  and 
Leopold  seem  to  have  agreed  in  the  same 
system  of  temporizing  politics.  Their  cor- 
respondence, as  far  as  can  be  judged  from 
the  letters  of  De  Lessart,  Louis's  trusted 


*  See  two  articles  on  the  pretended  treaties  of 
Pavia  and  Pilnitz,  in  the  Anti-jacobin  newspaper. 
They  were,  we  believe,  written  by  the  late  Ut 
Pitt. 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  Vn. 


minister  for  foreign  affairs,  seems  always 
to  point  to  a  middle  course  ;  tljat  of  suffer- 
ing the  Constitution  of  France  to  remain 
■uch  as  it  had  been  chosen  by  the  people, 
and  sanctioned  by  the  National  Assembly, 
while  the  ministers  attempted,  by  the  influ- 
ence of  fear  of  dangers  from  abroad,  to 
prevent  any  future  assaults  upon  the  power 
of  the  Crown,  and  especially  against  the 
King's  person.  On  condition  that  such 
further  aggression  should  be  abstained  from, 
the  Emperor  seems  to  have  been  willing  to 
prohibit  the  mustering  of  the  emigrant  for- 
ces in  his  dominions.  But  Leopold  demand- 
ed that,  on  their  part,  the  French  nation 
should  release  themselves  from  the  clubs 
of  Jacobins  and  Cordeliers,  (another  assem- 
bly of  the  same  nature,)  which,  pretending 
to  be  no  more  than  private  associations, 
without  public  character  or  responsibility, 
nevertheless  dictated  to  the  National  As- 
sembly, the  King,  and  all  France,  in  virtue 
of  the  power  of  exciting  the  insurrectional 
movements,  by  which  their  denunciations 
and  proposed  revolutions  had  been  as  regu- 
larly seconded,  as  the  flash  is  followed  by 
the  thunderbolt. 

On  the  death  of  Leopold,  and  the  suc- 
cession of  his  brother  Francis  to  the  impe- 
rial throne,  the  disposition  of  Austria  be- 
came much  more  turned  towards  war.  It 
became  the  object  of  Francis  to  overcome 
the  revolutionists,  and  prevent,  if  possible, 
the  impending  fate  of  the  royal  family.  In 
adopting  these  warlike  counsels,  the  mind 
of  the  new  Emperor  was  much  influenced 
by  the  desire  of  Prussia  to  take  the  field. 
Indeed,  the  condition  of  the  royal  family, 
which  became  every  day  more  precarious, 
seemed  to  both  powers  to  indicate  and  au- 
thorize hostile  measures,  and  they  were  at 
no  pains  to  conceal  their  sentiments.  It  is 
not  probable  that  peace  would  have  remain- 
ed long  unbroken,  unless  some  change  of 
;m  unexpected  and  unhoped-for  character, 
in  favour  of  royalty,  had  taken  place  in 
France ;  but  after  all  the  menaces  which 
had  been  made  by  the  foreign  powers,  it 
was  France  herself,  who,  to  the  surprise  of 
JCurope,  first  resorted  to  arms.  The  osten- 
.sible  reason  was,  that,  in  declaring  war,  she 
only  anticipated,  as  became  a  brave  and 
generous  nation,  the  commencement  of 
hostilities  which  Austria  had  menaced.  But 
each  party  in  the  state  had  its  own  privat'; 
views  for  concurring  in  a  measure,  which, 
at  the  time,  seemed  of  a  very  audacious 
character. 

La  Fayet*e  now  felt  his  influence  in  the 
National  Guard  of  Paris  was  greatly  on  the 
wane.  With  the  democrats  he  was  regard- 
ed as  a  denounced  and  devoted  man,  for 
having  employed  the  armed  force  to  dis- 
perse the  people  in  the  Champ  de  Mars, 
upon  the  17th  of  July,  1791.  Those  who 
countenanced  him  on  that  occasion  were 
Parisian  citir.ens  of  substance  and  property, 
but  timorous,  even  from  the  very  conscious- 
r.css  of  their  wealth,  and  unwilling,  either 
for  the  sake  of  La  Fayette,  or  the  Constitu- 
tion which  he  patronized,  to  expose  them- 
eelves  to  be  denounced  by  furious  dema- 
gogues, or  pillaged  by  the  hordes  of  robbers 


and  assassins  whom  they  had  at  their  dispo- 
sal. This  is  the  natural  progress  in  revolu- 
tions. While  order  continues,  property 
has  always  the  superior  influence  over  those 
who  may  be  desirous  of  infringing  the  pub- 
lic paace  ;  but  when  law  and  order  are  in  a 
great  measure  destroyed,  the  wealthy  are 
too  much  disposed  to  seek,  in  submission, 
or  change  of  party,  the  means  of  securing 
themselves  and  their  fortunes.  The  prop- 
erty which,  in  ordinary  times,  renders  its 
owners  bold,  becomes,  in  those  of  immi- 
nent danger,  the  cause  of  their  selfish  cow- 
ardice. La  Fayette  tried,  however,  one  de- 
cisive experiment,  to  ascertain  what  share 
remained  of  his  once  predominant  influ- 
ence over  the  Parisians.  He  stood  an  elec- 
tion for  the  mayoralty  of  Paris  against  Pe- 
thion,  a  person  attached  to  the  Brissotin,  or 
Republican  faction,  and  the  latter  was  pre- 
ferred. Unsuccessful  in  this  attempt.  La 
Fayette  became  desirous  of  a  foreign  war. 
A  soldier,  and  an  approved  one,  he  hoped 
his  fortune  would  not  desert  him,  and  that 
at  the  head  of  armies  which  he  trusted  to 
render  victorious  over  the  public  enemy, 
he  might  have  a  better  chance  of  being  lis- 
tened to  by  those  factions  who  began  to 
hold  in  disrespect  the  red  flag,  and  the  de- 
caying efforts  of  the  Natioial  Guard  of 
Parir. ;  and  thus  gaining  the  power  of  once 
more  enforcing  submission  to  the  Constitu- 
tion, vi?hich  he  had  so  large  a  ehar^  in'  cre- 
ating. Unquestionably  also.  La  Fayette 
rcmembercci  the  ardour  of  the  French  for 
national  glory,  and  welcomed  iiie  thoughts 
of  shifting  the  scene  to  combat  against  a 
public  and  avowed  enemy,  Irom  his  obscure 
and  tmsatisfactory"~sVuggle  with  the  clubs 
of  Paris.  La  Fayette,  therefore,  desired 
war,  and  was  followed  in  his  opinion  by 
most  of  the  Constitutional  party. 

The  Girondists  were  not  less  eager  for  a 
declaration  of  hostilities.  Either  the  King 
must,  in  that  case,  place  his  veto  upon  the 
measure,  or  he  must  denounce  hostilities 
against  his  brother-in-law  and  his  brothers, 
subjecting  himself  to  all  the  suspicions  of 
bad  faith  which  such  a  measure  inferred. 
If  the  arms  of  the  nation  were  victorious, 
the  risk  of  a  revolution  in  favour  of  royal- 
ty by  insurrcctioiia'  within,  or  invasions 
from  without  the  kingdom,  was  ended  at 
once  and  for  ever.  And  if  the  foreigners 
obtained  advantages,  it  would  be  easy  to 
turn  the  unpopularity  of  the  defeat  upon 
the  monarch,  and  upon  the  Constitutional- 
ists, who  had  insisted,  and  did  still  insist, 
on  retaining  him  as  the  ostensible  head  of 
the  executive  government. 

The  Jacobins,  those  whose  uniform  ob- 
ject it  was  to  keep  the  impulse  of  forcible 
and  revolutionary  measures  in  constant  ac- 
tion, seemed  to  be  divided  among  them- 
selves on  the  great  question  of  war  or 
peace.  Robespierre  himself  struggled,  in  the 
Club,  against  the  declaration  of  hostilities, 
probably  because  he  wished  the  Brissotins 
to  take  all  the  responsibility  of  that  hazar- 
dous measure,  secure  beforehand  to  share 
the  advantage  which  it  might  afford  those 
Republicans  against  the  King  and  Consti- 
tutionalists. He  took  care  that  Louis  should 


Chap.   VU] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


89 


profit  nothing  by  the  manner  in  which  he 
pleaded  the  cause  of  justice  and  humanity. 
He  affected  to  prophesy  disasters  to  the 
ill-provided  and  ill-disciplined  armies  of 
France,  and  cast  the  blame  beforehand  or. 
the  known  treachery  of  the  King  and  the 
Royalists,  the  arbitrary  designs  of  La  Fay- 
ette and  the  Constitutionalists,  and  the 
doubtful  patriotism  of  Brissot  and  Condor- 
cet.  His  arguments  retarded,  though  tliey 
could  not  stop,  the  declaration  of  war, 
which  probably  they  were  not  intended 
seriously  to  prevent  j  and  the  most  violent 
and  sanguinary  of  men  obtained  a  temiiora- 
ry  character  for  love  of  humanity,  by  adding 
hypocrisy  to  his  other  vices.  The  Jacobins 
in  general,  notwithstanding  Robcs()ierre's 
remonstrances,  moved  by  the  same  motives 
which  operated  with  the  Brissotins,  declar- 
ed ultimately  in  favour  of  hostilities. 

The  resolution  for  war,  tlierefore,  pre- 
dominated in  the  Assembly,  and  two  pre- 
paratory flaeasures  served,  as  it  were,  to 
sound  the  intentions  of  the  King  on  the 
subject,  and  to  ascertain  how  far  he  was 
disposed  to  adhere  to  the  Constitutional 
government  which  he  had  accepted,  against 
those  who,  in  his  name,  seemed  prepared 
by  force  of  arms  to  restore  the  old  system 
of  monarcliy.  Two  decrees  were  passed 
against  the  emigrants  in  the  Assembly.* 
The  first  was  directed  against  the  King's 
brother,  and  summoned  Xavier  .Stanislaus, 
Prince  of  France,  to  return  into  France  in 
two  months,  upon  pain  of  forfeiting  his 
right  to  the  regency.  The  King  consented 
to  this  decree — he  could  not,  indeed,  dis- 
sent from  it  with  consistency,  being,  as  he 
had  consented  to  be,  the  holder  of  the 
crown  under  a  constitirtion,  against  which 
his  exiled  brother  had  publicly  declared 
war.  The  second  decree  denounced  death 
against  all  emigrants  who  should  be  found 
assembled  in  arms  on  the  !st  of  January 
next.  The  right  of  a  nation  to  punish  with 
extreme  pains  those  of  its  native  subjects 
who  bear  arms  against  her,  has  never  been 
disputed.  But  although  on  great  clianges 
of  the  state,  the  vancjuished  party,  when 
essaying  a  second  struggle,  stand  in  the  re- 
lation of  rebels  against  the  existing  govcrn- 
nient,  yet  there  is  generally  wisdom,  as 
well  as  humanity,  in  delaying  to  assert  this 
right  in  its  rigour,  until  suc^i  aoeriod  shall 
have  elapsed,  as  shall  at  once  have  estab- 
lished the  new  government  in  a  confirmed 
state  of  pnssession,  and  given  those  attach- 
ed to  the  old  one  time  to  forget  their  habits 
and  predilections  in  its  favour. 

Under  this  defence,  Louis  ventured  to 
use  the  sole  constitutional  weapon  with 
which  he  was  intrusted.  He  refused  his 
consent  to  the  decree.  Sensible  of  the 
unpopularity  attending  this  rejection,  the 
King  endeavoured  to  qualify  it,  by  is.suing 
a  severe  proclamation  against  the  emi- 
grants, countermanding  their  proceedings  : 
— which  \vas  only  considered  as  an  act  of 
dissimulation  and  nypocrisy. 

The  decree  last  proposed,  jarred  nr^ccs- 
earilv  on  the  heart  and  sensibility  of  Louis 


*  8th  November,  1791. 


— the  next  affected  his  religious  scruples. 
The  National  Assembly  had  produced  a 
schism  in  the  church,  by  imposing  on  the 
clergy  a  constitution.al  oath,  inconsistent 
with  their  religious  vows.  The  philoso- 
phers in  the  present  Legislative  Bodjr, 
with  all  the  intolerance  which  they  were  in 
the  habit  of  objecting  against  the  Catholic 
Church,  resolved  to  render  the  breach  ir- 
reparable. 

They  had,  they  thought,  the  opportunity 
of  striking  a  death's  blow  at  the  religion  of 
the  state,  and  they  remembered  that  the 
watch-word  applied  by  the  Encyclopedists 
to  Christianity,  had  been  Ecrasez  Vinfame. 
The  proposed  decree  bore,  that  such  priests 
as  refused  the  Constitutional  oath  should 
forfeit  the  pension  allowed  them  for  sub- 
sistence, when  the  state  seized  upon  the 
estates  of  the  clergy  ;  that  they  should  be 
put  into  a  state  of  surveillance,  in  the  sev- 
eral departments  where  they  resided,  and 
banished  from  France  the  instant  they  ex- 
cited any  religious" dissensions. 

A  prince,  with  the  genuine  principles  of 
philosophy,  would  have  rejected  this  law 
as  unjust  and  intolerant;  but  Louis  had 
stronger  motives  to  interpose  his  constitu- 
tional Veto,  as  a  Catholic  Christian  whose 
conscience  would  not  permit  him  to  assent 
to  the  persecution  of  the  faithful  servants 
of  his  church.  He  refused  his  assent  to 
this  decree  also.  4^ 

In  attempting  to  shelter  the  emigrants 
and  the  recusant  churchmen,  the  King  only 
rendered  himself  the  more  immediate  ob- 
ject of  the  popular  resentment.  His  com- 
passion for  the  former  was  probably  min- 
gled with  a  secret  wish,  that  the  success  ' 
of  their  arms  might  relieve  him  from  his 
present  restraint ;  at  any  rate,  it  was  a  mo- 
tive easily  imputed  and  difficult  to  be  dis- 
proved. He  was,  therefore,  represented  to 
iiis  people  as  in  close  union  with  the  bands 
of  exiled  Frenchmen,  who  menaced  the 
frontiers  of  the  kingdom,  and  were  about 
to  accompany  the  foreign  armies  on  their 
march  to  the  metropolis.  The  royal  rejec- 
tion of  the  decree  against  the  orthodox 
clergy  was  imputed  to  Louis's  superstition, 
and  his  desire  of  rebuildmg  an  ancient 
Gothic  hierarchy  unworthy  of  .an  enlight- 
ened age.  In  short,  that  was  now  made 
manifest,  which  few  wise  men  had  ever 
doubted,  namely,  that  so  soon  as  the  King 
should  avail  himself  of  his  constitutional 
right,  in  res'-tance  to  the  popular  will,  he 
was  sure  to  incur  the  risk  of  losing  both 
his  crown  and  life. 

Meantime  this  danger  was  accelerated  by 
the  consequences  of  a  dissension  in  the 
royal  cabinet.  It  will  scarce  be  believed, 
that  situations  in  the  ministry  of  France, 
so  precarious  in  its  tenure,  so  dangerous  in 
its  possession,  so  enfeebled  in  its  authori- 
ty, should  have  !>een  even  at  this  time  the 
object  of  ambition  ;  and  that  to  possess 
such  momentary  and  doubtful  eminence, 
men,  and  wise  men  too,  employed  all  the 
usual  arts  of  intrigue  and  circumvention,  by 
which  rival  statesmen,  under  settled  gov- 
ernments and  in  peaceful  times,  endeavour 
to  undermine  and  supplant  each  other.    Wa 


90 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VII. 


have  heard  of  criminals  in  the  Scottish 
Highlands,  who  asserted  with  obstinacy  the 
dignity  of  their  clans,  when  the  only  test 
of  pre-eminence  was  the  priority  of  execu- 
tion. V-^e  have  read,  too,  of  the  fatal  rail, 
■where  shipwrecked  men  in  the  midst  of  the 
Atlantic  contended  together  with  mortal 
strife  for  equally  useless  preferences.  But 
neither  case  is  equal  in  extravagance  to  the 
conduct  of  those  rivals,  who  struggled  for 
power  in  the  cabinet  of  Louis  XVI.  in  1792, 
when,  take  what  party  they  would,  the  jeal- 
ousy of  the  Assembly,  and  the  far  more  fa- 
tal proscription  of  the  Jacobins,  was  sure 
to  be  the  reward  of  their  labours.  So,  how- 
ever, it  was,  and  the  fact  serves  to  show, 
that  a  day  of  power  is  more  valuable  in  the 
eyes  of  ambition,  than  a  life-time  of  ease 
and  safety. 

De  Lessart,  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Af- 
fairs already  mentioned,  had  wished  to 
avoid  war,  and  had  fed  Leopold  and  his 
ministers  with  hopes,  that  the  King  would 
be  able  to  establish  a  constitutional  power 
superior  to  that  of  the  dreadiul  Jacobins. 
The  Compte  de  Narbonne,  on  the  other 
side,  being  Minister  of  War,  was  desirous 
to  forward  the  views  of  La  Fayette,  who,  as 
we  have  said,  longed  to  be  at  the  head  of 
the  arm^  To  obtain  his  rival's  disgrace, 
Karbonne  combined  with  La  Fayette  and 
other  generals  to  make  public  the  opposi- 
tion which  De  Lessart  and  a  majority  of  the 
cabinet  ministers  had  opposed  to  the  dec- 
laration of  hostilities.  Louis,  justly  incens- 
ed at  an  appeal  to  the  public  from  the  inte- 
rior of  his  own  cabinet,  displaced  Nar- 
bonne. 

The  Legislative  Body  immediately  fell 
on  De  Lessart.  He  was  called  to  stand  on 
his  defence,  and  imprudently  laid  before 
the  Assembly  his  correspondence  with 
Kaunitz,  the  Austrian  minister.  In  their 
communications  De  Lessart  and  Kaunitz 
had  spoken  with  respect  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, and  with  moderation  even  of  their 
most  obnoxious  measures  ;  but  they  had 
reprobated  the  violence  of  the  Jacobins  and 
Cordeliers,  and  stigmatized  the  usurpations 
of  those  clubs  over  the  constitutional  au- 
thorities of  the  state,  whom  they  openly 
insulted  and  controlled.  These  moderate 
fientiments  formed  the  real  source  of  De 
Lessart's  fall.  He  was  attacked  on  all 
sides — by  the  party  of  Narbonne  and  his 
friends  from  rivalry — by  Brissot  and  his  fol- 
lowers from  policy,  and  in  order  to  remove 
a  minister  too  much  a  royalist  for  their 
purpose — by  the  Jacobins  from  hatred  and 
revenge.  Yet  when  Brissot  condescended 
upon  the  following  evidence  of  his  guilt, 
argument  and  testimony  against  him  must 
have  indeed  been  scarce.  De  Lessart,  with 
a  view  of  representing  the  present  affairs  of 
France  under  the  most  softened  point  of 
view  to  the  Emperor,  had  assured  him  that 
the  Constitution  of  1791  was  firmly  adhered 
to  by  a  majority  of  the  nation.  "  Hear  the 
atrocious  calumniator  !"  said  the  accuser. 
"The  inference  is  plain.  He  dares  to  in- 
sinuate the  existence  of  a  minority,  which 


is  not  attached  to  the  Constitution."*  An  • 
other  accusation,  which  in  like  manner 
w;is  adopted  as  valid  by  the  acclamation  of 
the  Assembly,  was  formed  thus.  \  most 
horrible  massacre  had  taken  place  during 
the  tumults  which  attended  the  union  of 
Avignon  with  the  kingdom  of  France. 
Vergniaud,  the  friend  and  colleague  of  Bris- 
sot, alleged,  that  if  the  decree  of  uiiion 
had  been  early  enough  sent  to  Avignon,  the 
dissensions  would  not  have  taken  place ; 
and  he  charged  upon  the  unhappy  De 
Lessart,  that  he  had  not  instantly  trans- 
mitted the  official  intelligence.  Now  the 
decree  of  reunion  was,  as  the  orator 
knew,  delayed  on  account  of  the  King's 
scruples  to  accede  to  what  seemed  an  in- 
vasion of  the  territory,  of  the  Church  ;  and, 
at  any  rate,  it  could  no  more  have  prevent- 
ed the  massacre  of  Avignon,  which  was 
conducted  by  that  same  Jourdain,  called 
Coupe-t6te,  the  Bearded  Man  of  the  march 
to  Versailles,  than  the  subsequent  massacre 
of  Paris,  perpetrated  by  similar  agents.  The 
orator  well  knew  this  ;  yet,  with  eloquence 
as  false  as  his  logic,  he  summoned  the 
ghosts  of  the  murdered  from  the  glaciere, 
in  which  their  mangled  remains  had  been 
piled,  to  bear  witness  against  the  minister, 
to  whose  culpable  neglect  they  owed  their 
untimely  fate.  All  the  while  he  was  im- 
ploring for  justice  on  the  head  of  a  man, 
who  was  undeniably  ignorant  and  innocent 
of  the  crime.  Vergniaud  ai^dhis  friends  se- 
cretly meditated  extending  the  mantle  of 
safety  over  the  actual  perpetrators  of  the 
massacre,  by  a  decree  of  amnesty  ;  so  that 
the  whole  charge  against  De  Lessart  can 
only  be  termed  a  mixture  of  hypocrisy  and 
cruelty.  In  the  course  of  the  same  discus- 
sion, Gauchon,  an  orator  of  the  suburb  of 
Saint  Antoine,  in  which  lay  the  strength 
of  the  Jacobin  interest,  had  already  pro- 
nounced sentence  in  the  cause,  at  the  very 
bar  of  the  Assembly  which  was  engaged  in 
trying  it.  "  Royalty  may  be  struck  out  of 
the  Constitution,"  said  the  demagogue, 
"  but  the  unity  of  the  Legislative  Body  de- 
fies the  touch  of  time.  Courtiers,  ministers, 
kings,  and  their  civil  lists,  may  pass  away, 
but  the  sovereign  of  the  people,  and  the 
pikes  which  enforce  it,  are  perpetual." 

This  was  touching  the  root  of  the  matter. 
De  Lessart  was  a  royalist,  though  a  timid 
and  cautious  one,  and  he  was  to  be  pun- 
ished as  an  example  to  such  ministers  as 
should  dare  to  attach  themselves  to  their 
sovereign  and  his  personal  interest.  A  de- 
cree of  accusation  was  passed  against  him, 
and  he  was  sent  to  Orleans  to  be  tried  be- 

*  This  strange  arftument  reminds  us  of  an  esaay 
read  before  a  literary  society  in  dispraise  of  tba 
east  wind,  which  tlie  author  supported  by  quota- 
tions from  every  poem  or  popular  work,  in  which 
Eurus  is  the  subject  of  invective.  The  learned 
auditors  sustained  the  first  part  of  this  infliction 
with  becoming  fortitude,  but  declined  submitting 
to  the  second,  understanding  that  the  accomplish- 
ed author  bad  there  fortified  himself  by  the  numer- 
ous testimonies  of  almost  all  poets  in  favour  of  the 
west,  and  which,  with  logic  similar  to  that  of  Moi>- 
sieur  Brissot  in  the  text,  he  rega-ded  as  indirect 
testimonv  against  the  east  wind. 


Chap.  VIIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


91 


fore  the  High  Court  there.    Other  Royalists 
of  distinction  were  committed  to  the  same 

E risen,  and,  in  the  fatal  month  of  Septem- 
er,  1792,  were  involved  in  the  same  dread- 
ful fate. 

Pethion,  the  Mayor  of  Paris,  appearwd 
next  day  at  the  bar,  at  the  head  of  the  Muni- 
cipality, to  congratulate  the  Assembly  on  a 
great  act  of  justice,  which  he  declared  re- 
sembled one  of  those  thunder-storms  by 
which  nature  purifies  the  atmosphere  from 
noxious  vapours.  The  ministry  was  dis- 
solved by  this  severe  blow  on  one  of  the 
wisest,  at  least,  one  of  the  most  moderate, 
of  its  members.  Xarbonne,  and  the  Con- 
stitutional party  who  had  espoused  his 
cause,  were  soon  made  sensible,  tliat  he  or 
they  were  to  gain  nothing  by  the  impeach- 
ment, to  which  their  intrigues  led  the  way. 
Their  claims  to  share  the  spoils  of  the  dis- 
placed ministry  were  passed  over  with  con- 
tempt, and  the  King  was  compelled,  in  or- 
der to  have  the  least  chance  of  obtaining 
a  hearing  from  the  Assembly,  to  select  his 
ministers  from  the  Brissotin,  or  Girondist 
faction,  who,  though  averse  to  the  existence 
of  a  monarchy,  and  desiring  a  republic  in- 
stead, had  still  somewhat  more  of  principle 
and  morals  than  the  mere  Revolutionists 
and  Jacobins,  who  were  altogether  destitute 
of  both. 

With  the  fall  of  De  Lessart,  all  chance  of 
peace  vanished,  as  indeed  it  had  been  grad- 
ually disappearing  before  that  event.  The 
demands  of  the  Austrian  court  went  now, 
when  fully  explained,  so  far  back  upon  the 
Revolution,  that  a  peace  negotiated  upon 
such  terms,  must  have  laid  France  and  all 
its  various  parties,  (with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  a  few  of  the  first  Assembly,)  at 
the  foot  of  the  sovereign,  and  what  might 
be  more  dangerous,  at  the  mercy  of  the  re- 
stored emigrants.  The  Emperor  demand- 
ed the  establishment  of  monarchy  in  France, 


on  the  basis  of  the  Royal  Declaration  of 
of  23d  June,  1789,  which  liad  been  general 
ly  rejected  by  the  Tiers  Etat  when  offered 
to  them  by  the  King.  He  farther  demanded, 
the  restoration  of  the  effects  of  the  Church, 
and  that  the  German  Princes  having  rights 
in  Alsace  and  Lorraine  should  be  replaced 
in  those  rights  agreeably  to  the  treaty  of 
Westphalia. 

The  Legislative  Assembly  received  these 
extravagant  terms  as  an  insult  on  the  nation- 
al dignity ;  and  the  King,  whatever  might 
be  his  sentiments  as  an  individual,  could 
not,  on  this  occasion,  dispense  with  the 
duty  his  office  as  Constitutional  Monarch 
ira])osed  on  him.  Louis,  therefore,  had  the 
melancholy  task  of*  proposing  to  an  Assem- 
bly, filled  with  the  enemies  of  his  throne 
and  person,  a  declaration  of  war  against 
his  brotlier-ia-law  the  Emperor,  in  his  ca- 
pacity of  King  of  Hungary  and  Bohemia, 
involving,  as  matter  of  course,  a  civil  war 
with  his  own  two  brothers,  who  had  taken 
the  field  at  the  head  of  that  part  of  his  sub- 
jects from  birth  and  principle  the  most  en- 
thusiastically devoted  to  their  sovereign's 
person,  and  who,  if  they  had  faults  towards 
France,  had  committed  them  in  love  to  him. 

The  proposal  was  speedily  agreed  to  by 
the  Assembly  ;  for  the  Constitutionalists 
saw  their  best  remaining  chance  for  power 
was  by  obtaining  victory  on  the  frontiers. — 
the  Girondists  had  need  of  war,  as  what 
must  necessarily  lead  the  way  to  an  altera- 
tion in  the  constitution,  and  the  laying 
aside  the  regal  government, — and  the  Jac- 
obins, whose  chief,  Robespierre,  had  just 
objected  enough  to  give  him  the  character 
and  credit  of  a  prophet  if  any  reverses  were 
sustained,  resisted  the  war  no  longer,  but 
remained  armed  and  watchful,  to  secure 
the  advantage  of  events  as  they  might  oc- 
cur. 


*  20th  April,  1792 


CHAP.   VIII. 

Defeats  of  the  French  on  the  Frontier. — Decay  of  the  Party  of  Constitutionalist* — 
They  form  the  Club  of  Feuillans,  and  are  dispersed  by  the  Jacobins  forcibly. —  The 
Ministry — Dumouriez —  Versatility  of  his  Character. — Breach  of  Confidence  betwixt 
the  King  and  his  Ministers. — Dissolution  of  the  King's  Constitutional  Guard. — Ex- 
travagant measures  of  the  Jacobins — Alarms  of  the  Girondists. — Departmental  army 
proposed. — King  puts  his  Veto  on  the  Decree,  against  Dumouriez' s  Representations. 
— Decree  against  the  Recusant  Priests — King  refuses  it. — Letter  of  the  Ministers  to 
the  King — He  dismi'ises  Roland.  Clav'iere.  and  Servan. — Dumouriez ,  Duranton.  and 
Lacoste,  appointed  in  their  stead. — King  ratifies  the  Decree  concerning  the  Depart- 
mental  Army. — Dumouriez  retorts  against  the  late  Ministers  in  the  Assembly — Re- 
signs, and  departs  for  the  Frontiers. — A'eio  Ministers  named  from  the  Constitutional- 
ists.— Insurrection  of  the  ~(Uh  of  June. — Armed  Mob  intrude  into  the  Assembly — 
Thence  into  the  Tuilleries. — Assembly  send  a  deputation  to  the  Palace — And  the  Mob 
disperse. — La  Fayette  repairs  to  Paris — Remonstrates  in  favour  of  the  King — But  is 
compelled  to  return  to  the  Frontiers,  and  leave  him  to  his  fate. — Marseillois  appear  in 
Paris. — Duke  of  Brunswick's  Manifesto. — Its  Operation  agai7ist  the  King. 

Ir  is  not  our  purpose  here  to  enter  into  any 
detail  of  military  events.  It  is  sufficient  to 
say,  that  the  first  results  of  the  war  were 
more  disastrous  than  could  have  been  ex- 
pected, even  from  the  want  of  discipline 
and  state  of  mutiny  in  wliich  this  call  to 


arms  found  the  troops  of  France.  If  .Aus- 
tria, never  quick  at  improving  an  opportu- 
nity, had  possessed  more  forces  on  the 
Flemish  frontier,  or  had  even  pressed  her 
success  with  the  troops  she  had,  events 
might  have  occurred  to  ir.Suence,  if  not  to 


92 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


iChap.  Vllf. 


niter,  the  fortunes  of  France  and  her  King. 
They  were  inactive,  however,  and  La  Fay- 
ette, who  was  at  the  head  of  the  amiy,  ex- 
erted himself,  not  without  effect,  to'rally 
the  spirits  of  the  French,  and  infuse  disci- 
pline and  confidence  into  their  ranks.  But 
ne  was  able  to  secure  no  success  of  so 
marked  a  character  as  to  correspond  with 
the  reputation  he  had  acquired  in  America; 
80  that  as  the  Austrians  were  few  in  num- 
ber, and  not  very  decisive  in  their  move- 
ments, the  war  seemed  to  languish  on  both 
sides. 

In  Paris,  the  absence  of  La  Fayette  had 
removed  the  main  stay  from  the  Constitu- 
tional interest,  which  were  now  nearly  re- 
duced to  that  state  of  nullity  to  which  they 
had  themselves  reduced  the  party,  first  of 
pure  Royalists,  and  then  that  of  the  Mo- 
deris,  or  friends  of  limited  monarchy,  in 
the  first  Assembly.  The  wealthier  classes, 
indeed,  continued  a  fruitless  attachment  to 
the  Constitutionalists,  which  gradually  di- 
minished with  their  decreased  power  to 
protect  their  friends.  At  length  this  be- 
came so  contemptible,  that  their  enemies 
were  emboldened  to  venture  upon  an  in- 
sult, which  showed  how  little  they  were 
disposed  to  keep  measures  with  a  feeble  ad- 
versary. 

Among  other  plans,  by  which  they  hop- 
ed to  counterpoise  the  omnipotence  of  the 
Jacobin  Club,  the  Constitutionalists  had  es- 
tablished a  counter  association,  termed, 
from  its  place  of  meeting,  Les  Feuillans. 
In  this  Club, — which  included  about  two 
hundred  members  of  the  Legislative  Body, 
the  ephemeral  rival  of  the  great  Jacobinical 
forge  in  which  the  Revolutionists  had  their 
etrength  and  fabricated  their  thunders, — 
there  was  more  eloquence,  argument,  learn- 
ing, and  wit,  than  was  necessary  ;  but  the 
Feuillans  wanted  the  terrible  power  of  ex- 
citing the  popular  passions,  which  the  ora- 
tors of  the  Jacobin  Club  possessed  and 
wielded  at  pleasure.  These  opposed  fac- 
tions might  be  compared  to  two  swords, 
of  which  one  had  a  gilded  and  ornamenled 
hilt,  but  a  blade  formed  of  glass  or  other 
brittle  substance,  while  the  brazen  handle 
of  the  other  corresponded  in  strength  and 
coarseness  to  the  steel  of  the  weapon  itself. 
When  two  such  weapons  come  into  collis- 
ion, the  consequence  may  be  anticipated, 
and  it  was  so  with  the  opposite  clubs.  The 
Jacobins,  after  many  preparatory  insults, 
went  down  upon  and  assailed  their  adversa- 
ries with  open  force,  insulting  and  dispers 


fact  his  friends  and  partisans,  not  the  caus- 
es of,  or  willing  consenters  to,  his  present 
imprisoned  and  disabled  condition.     Of  six 
ministers,   by  whom  De  Lessart  and  his 
comrades  had  been  replaced,  the  husband 
of  Madame  Roland,  and  two  others,  Servan 
and   Claviere,  were  zealous   republicans, 
Duranthon  and  Lacoste  were  moderate  in 
their  politics,  but  timorous   in    character 
the  si.\th,  Dumouriez,  who  held  the  warde 
partment,  was  the  personal  rival  of  La  Fay 
ette,   both  in    civil  and  military   matters 
and  the  enemy,  therefore,  of  the'  Constitu 
tional  party,     it  is  now,  for  the  first  time 
that  we  mention  one  of  those    names   re 
nowned  in  military  history,  which  had  the 
address  to  attract  Victory  to   the   French 
banners,  to  which  she  so  long  appeared  to 
adhere  without  shadow  of  changing.     Du- 
mouriez passed  early  from  the  scene,  but 
left  his  name  strongly  written  in  the  annale 
of  France. 

Dumouriez  was  little  in  person,  but  full 
of  vivacity  and  talent ;  a  brave  soldier,  hav- 
ing distinguished  himself  in  the  civij  dis- 
sensions  of  Poland  ;   an    able   and   skilfu' 
intriguer,  and  well  fitted  to  play  a  conspic- 
uous part  in  times  of  public  confusion.  He 
has   never  been  supposed  to   possess  any 
great  firmness  of  principle,  whether  public 
or  private  ;  but  a  soldier's  honour,  and  a 
soldier's  frankness,  together  with  the  habits 
of  good  society,  led  him  to  contemn  and 
hate  the  sordid  treachery,  cruelty,  and  cyn- 
icism of  the  Jacobins  ;  while  his  wit  and 
common  sense  enabled  him  to  see  through 
and  deride  the  affected  and  pedantic  fanati- 
cism of  rebublican  zeal  of  the   Girondists, 
who,  he  plainly  saw,  were  amusing  them- 
selves with  schemes  to  which  the  country 
of  France,  the   age,  and  the  state  of  man- 
ners, were  absolutely  opposed.    Thus,  he 
held  the  situation  of  minister   at  war,  co- 
quetting with  all  parties ;  wearing  one  eve- 
ning in  the  Jacobin  Club  the  red  nightcap, 
which  was  the  badge  of  brecchless  freedom, 
and  the  next,  with  better  sincerity,  advising 
the  King  how  he  might  avoid  the  approach- 
ing evils  ;  though  the  by-roads  he  pointed 
out  were  often  too  indirect  to  be  trodden 
by  the  good  and  honest   prince,  to  whom 
Providence  had,  in  Dumouriez,  assigned  a 
counsellor  better  fitted  to  a  less  scrupulous 
sovereign.    The  King  nevertheless  reposed 
considerable     confidence    in   the   general, 
which,  if  not  answered  with  all  the  devo- 
tion of^  loyalty,  was  at  least  never  betrayed. 
The  Republican   ministers  were  scarce 


ing  them  with  blows  and  violence ;  while  I  qualified  by  their  talents,   to    assume  the 
Pethion,  theMayor  of  Paris,  who  was  pres- I  1'''  of"  Areopagites.  or   Roman   tribunes. — 


ent  on  the  occasion,  consoled  the  fugitives, 
by  assuring  them  that  the  law  indeed  pro- 
tected them,  but  the  people  having  pro- 
nounced against  them,  it  was  not  for  him  to 
enforce  the  behests  of  the  law  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  will  of  that  people,  from  whom 
the  law  originated.  A  goodly  medicine  for 
their  aching  bones ! 

The  Constitutional  party,  amidst  their 
general  humiliation,  had  lost  almost  all  in- 
fluence in  the  ministry,  and  could  only  com- 
municate with  the  King  underhand,  and  in 
B  secret  manner, — as  if  thev  had  been  in 


Roland,  by  himself,  was  but  a  tiresome 
pedant,  and  he  could  not  bring  his  wife 
to  the  cabinet  council,  although  it  is 
said  she  attempted  to  make  her  way  to  the 
ministerial  dinners.*  His  colleagues  were 
of  the  same  character,  andafToctcd  in  their 


*  So  aays  fk's  Fcrricros,  and  pretenils  thai  Rlst- 
climc  Roland's  prRtcnsiiins  to  \ie  presontcd  at  the 
niinistcriiil  parties  hoing  rcjoclnd,  was  iho  first 
breach  to  the  ainicalili;  undcrstiuidin;;or  the  minis- 
ters. But  nothing' ol" I  his  sort  is  to  h<t  found  in  Ma- 
dame U(daii(l's  Momoires,  and  we  are  confidant  she 
would  liavc  recorded  it,  had  the  fact  been  accurate. 


Chap.  Vni.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


intercourse  with  the  King  a  stoical  con- 
tempt of  the  forms  of  the  court,  although, 
in  effect,  these  are  like  other  courtesies  of 
society,  which  it  costs  little  to  observe,  and 
is  brutal  to  neglect.*  Besides  petty  insults 
of  this  sort,  there  was  a  total  want  of  con- 
fidence on  both  sides,  in  the  intercourse  be- 
twixt them  and  the  King.  If  the  ministers 
were  desirous  to  penetrate  his  sentiments 
on  any  particular  subject,  Louis  evaded 
them  by  turning  the  discourse  on  matters 
of  vague  and  general  import ;  and  did  he, 
on  the  other  hand,  press  them  to  adopt  any 
particular  measure,  they  were  cold  and  re- 
served, and  excused  themselves  under  the 
shelter  of  their  personal  responsibility.  In- 
deed, how  was  it  possible  that  confidence 
could  exist  betwixt  the  King  and  his  Re- 
publican ministers,  when  the  principal  ob- 
ject of  the  latter  was  to  procure  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  regal  dignity,  and  when  the 
former  was  completely  aware  that  such  was 
their  purpose  ? 

The  first  step  adopted  by  the  factions  of 
Girondists  and  Jacobins,  who  moved  to- 
wards the  same  object  side  by  eide,  though 
not  hand  in  hand,  was  to  deprive  the  King 
of  a  guard,  assigned  him  by  the  Constitu- 
tion, in  lieu  of  his  disbanded  Gardes  du 
Corps.  It  was,  indeed,  of  doubtful  loy.ilty, 
being  partly  levied  from  soldiers  of  the  line, 
partlv  from  the  citizens,  and  imbued  in  ma- 
ny cases  with  the  revolutionary  spirit  of  the 
day ;  but  they  were  officered  by  persons 
selected  for  their  attachment  to  the  King, 
and  even  their  name  of  Guards  expressed 
and  inspired  an  esprit  de  corps,  which 
might  be  formidable.  Various  causes  of 
suspicion  were  alleged  against  this  guard — 
that  they  kept  in  their  barracks  awhile  flag 
(which  proved  to  be  the  ornament  of  a  cake 
presented  to  them  by  the  Dauphin) — that 
their  sword-hilts  were  formed  into  the  fash- 
ion of  a  cock,  which  announced  some  anti- 
revolutionary  enigma — that  att«tmpts  were 
made  to  alienate  them  from  the  Assembly, 
and  fix  their  affections  on  the  King.  The 
guard  contained  several  spies,  who  had 
taken  that  service  for  the  purpose  of  betray- 
ing its  secrets  to  the  Jacobins.  Three  or 
four  of  these  men,  produced  at  the  bar,  af- 
firmed much  that  was,  and  much  that  was 
not,  true ;  and  amid  the  causes  they  had 
for  distrusting  the  King,  and  their  reasons 
for  desiring  to  weaken  nim,  the  Assembly 
decreed  the  reduction  of  the  Constitutional 
Guard.  The  King  was  with  difficulty  per- 
suaded not  to  oppose  his  Veto,  and  was 
thus  left  almost  totally  undefended  to  the 
next  blast  of  the  revolutionary  tempest. 

Every  successive  proceeding  of  the  fac- 
tions tended  to  show  more  etrongly  that 
the  storm  was  speedily  to  arisa.  The  in- 
vention of  the  Jacobins  exhausted  itself  in 
proposing  and  adopting  revolutionary  meas- 
ures so  extravagant,  that  very  shame  pre- 
vented the  Girondists  from  becoming  par- 

*  \Vfien  Rolanil,  whose  dress  was  somewfiat  like 
that  of  a  Quaker,  appeared  at  court  in  slice-strings, 
the  usher  approaclied  him  witli  a  severe  look,  and 
addressed  him,  "  How,  sir,  no  liuckles  !" — "  Ah," 
wid  Dumouriez,  who  laughed  at  all  and  at  every- 
thing,*'  all  is  lost." 


ties  to  them.  Such  was  the  carrying  the 
atrocious  cut-throat  Jourdain  in  triumph 
through  the  streets  of  Avignon,  where  he 
had  piled  eighty  carcases  into  a  glaciere 
in  the  course  of  one  night.  .\  less  atro- 
cious, but  not  less  insolent  proceeding, 
was  the  feast  given  in  honour  of  the  regi- 
ment of  Chateau  \'aux,  whose  mutiny  had 
teen  put  down  at  Nancy  by  Monsieur  de 
Bouille,  acting  under  the  express  decree  of 
the  first  jVational  Assembly. 

In  a  word,  understanding  much  better 
than  the  Brissotins  the  taste  of  the  vulgar 
for  what  was  most  violent,  gross,  and  exag- 
gerated, the  Jacobins  purveyed  for  them 
accordingly,  filled  their  ears  with  the  most 
incredible  reports,  and  gulled  their  eyes  by 
the  most  absurd  pageants. 

The  Girondists,  retaining  some  taste  and 
some  principle,  were  left  far  behind  in  the 
race  of  vulgar  popularity,  where  he  that 
throws  off  every  mark  of  decency  bids  most 
fair  to  gain  the  prize.  They  beheld  with 
mortification  feats  which  they  could  not 
emulate,  and  felt  that  their  own  assertions 
of  their  attachment  to  freedom,  emphatic 
as  they  were,  seemed  cold  and  spiritless 
compared  to  the  extravagant  and  flaming 
declamations  of  the  Jacobins.  They  re- 
garded with  envy  the  advantages  which 
thoir  rivals  acquired  by  those  exaggerated 
proceedings,  and  were  startled  to  find  how 
far  they  were  like  to  be  outstripped  by 
those  uncompromising  and  unhesitating 
demagogues.  The  Girondists  became  sen- 
sible that  a  struggle  approached,  in  which, 
notwithstanding  their  strength  in  the  As- 
sembly, they  must  be  vanquished,  unless 
they  could  raise  up  some  body  of  forces, 
entirely  dependent  on  themselves,  to  be 
opposed  in  time  of  need  to  the  Jacobin  in- 
surgents. This  was  indeed  essentially  ne- 
cessary to  their  personal  safety,  and  to  the 
stability  of  their  power.  If  they  looked  to 
the  National  Guard,  they  found  such  of 
that  body  as  were  no  longer  attached  to  La 
Fayette  wearied  of  revolutions,  unmoved 
by  the  prospect  of  a  republic,  and  only  de- 
sirous to  protect  their  shops  and  property. 
If  they  turned  their  eyes  to  the  lower  or- 
ders, and  especially  the  suburbs,  ihe  myri- 
ads of  pikemen  which  they  could  pour  forth 
were  all  devoted  to  the  Jacobins,  from 
whom  their  leaders  received  orders  and 
regular  pay. 

The  scheme  of  a  departmental  army  waa 
resorted  to  by  the  Girondists  as  the  least 
startling,  yet  most  certain  mode  of  bringing 
together  a  military  force  sufficient  to  sup- 
port the  schemes  of  the  new  administration. 
Five  men  were  to  be  t'urnished  by  every 
canton  in  France,  which  would  produce  a 
body  of  20.000  troops  to  be  armed  and  train- 
ed under  the  walls  of  Parib-.  This  force 
was  to  serve  as  a  central  army  to  leinforoe 
the  soldiers  on  the  frontier,  and  maintain 
order  in  the  capital,  as  occasion  should  de- 
mand. Th<"  measure,  proposed  by  the  Gi- 
rondists, v.ds  unexpectedly  furthered  br 
the  Jacobins,  who  plainly  saw,  that  through 
the  means  of  their  affiliated  societies,  which 
existed  in  every  canton,  they  would  be  able 
to  dictate  the  choice  of  ao  large  a  part  of 


94 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Ch(^.  vin. 


the  departmental  army,  that,  when  assem- 
bled, it  should  add  to  the  power  of  their  in- 
■urrectionary  bands  at  Paris,  instead  of 
controlling  them. 

The  citizens  of  Paris  were  disposed  to 
consider  this  concourse  of  undisciplined 
troops  under  the  walls  of  the  city  as  dan- 
gerous to  its  safety,  and  an  insult  to  the 
National  Guard,  hitherto  thouglit  adequate 
to  the  defence  of  the  metropolis.  They 
petitioned  the  Assembly  against  the  meas- 
ure, and  even  invoked  the  King  to  reject 
the  decree,  when  it  should  pass  through 
that  body. 

To  this  course  Louis  was  himself  suffi- 
ciently inclined,  for  neither  he  nor  any  one 
doubted  that  the  real  object  of  the  Giron- 
dists was  to  bring  together  such  an  army,  as 
would  enable  them  to  declare  their  beloved 
republic  without  fear  of  La  Fayette,  even 
if  he  should  find  himself  able  to  bring  the 
army  which  he  commanded  to  his  own  sen- 
timents on  the  subject. 

Dumouriez  warned  Louis  against  follow- 
ing this  course  of  direct  opposition  to  the 
Assembly.  He  allowed,  that  the  ultimate 
purpose  of  the  proposal  was  evident  to 
every  thinking  person,  but  still  its  osten- 
sible object  being  the  protection  of  the 
country  and  capital,  the  King,  he  said, 
v^'ould,  in  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar,  be  regard- 
ed as  a  favourer  of  the  foreign  invasion,  if 
he  objected  to  a  measure  represented  as 
essential  to  the  protection  of  Paris.  He 
undertook,  as  Minister  of  War,  that  as  fast 
as  a  few  hundreds  of  the  departmental  forc- 
es arrived,  he  would  have  them  regimented 
and  dismissed  to  the  frontier,  where  their 
assistance  was  more  necessary  than  at 
home.  But  all  his  remonstrances  on  the 
subject  were  in  vain.  Louis  resolved  at  all 
risks  to  place  ills  Veto  on  the  measure.  He 
probably  relied  on  the  feelings  of  he  Na- 
tional Guard,  of  which  one  or  two  divisions 
were  much  attached  to  him,  while  the  dis- 
positions of  the  whole  had  been  certainly 
ameliorated,  from  their  fear  of  fresh  confu- 
sion by  means  of  these  new  levies.  Perhaps, 
also,  the  King  could  not  bring  himself  at 
Once  to  trust  the  versatile  disposition  of 
Dumouriez,  whose  fidelity,  however,  we 
see  no  reason  for  suspecting. 

Another  renewed  point  of  discussion  and 
disagreement  betwixt  the  King  and  his 
ministers,  respected  the  recusant  clergv. 
A  decree  was  passed  in  the  Assembly,  tliat 
such  priests  as  might  be  convicted  of  a  re- 
fusal to  subscribe  the  oath  to  the  civil  Con- 
stitution, should  be  liable  to  deportation. 
This  was  a  point  of  conscience  with  Louis, 
and  was  probably  brouglit  forward  in  order 
to  hasten  him  into  a  resignation  of  the 
crown.  He  stood  firm  accordingly,  and  de- 
termined to  oppose  his  Veto  to  this  decree 
also,  in  spite  at  c  nee  of  all  the  arguments 
which  the  worldly  prudence  of  Dumouriez 
could  object,  and  of  the  urgency  of  the  Re- 
publican ministers. 

The  firm  refusal  of  the  Kingdieconcertcd 
the  measures  of  the  Girondist  counsellors. 
Madame  Roland  undertook  to  make  the  too 
scrupulous  monarch  see  the  errors  of  his 
ways  j  and  composed,  in  the  name  of  her 


husband  and  two  of  his  colleagues,  a  long 
letter,  to  which  Dumouriez  and  the  other 
two  refused  to  place  their  names.  It  was 
written  in  what  the  Citoycnne  termed  an 
austere  tone  of  truth  ;  that  is  to  say,  with- 
out any  of  the  usual  marks  of  deference  and 
respect,  and  with  a  harshness  calculated  to 
jar  all  the  feelings,  aflectionate  or  religious, 
of  him  whom  they  still  called  King  Alas  I 
the  severest  and  most  ofiensive  truths,  how- 
ever late  in  reaching  the  ears  of  powerful 
and  prosperous  monarchs,  make  themselves 
sternly  loud  to  tliose  princes  ,who  are  cap- 
tive and  unfriended.  Louis  might  have  re- 
plied to  this  rude  expostulation  like  the 
kniglit  who  received  a  blow  from  an  enemy 
when  he  was  disarmed,  and  a  prisoner, — 
"  There  is  little  bravery  in  this  now.''  The 
King,  however,  gave  way  to  his  resent- 
ment as  far  as  he  could.  He  dismissed 
Roland  and  the  other  two  ministers,  and 
with  difficulty  prevailed  on  Dumouriez.  Du- 
ranthon,  and  Lacostc,  to  retain  their  situa- 
tions, and  endeavoured  to  supply  the  place 
of  those  whom  he  had  deprived  of  office  ; 
but  lie  was  obliged  to  purchase  their  adher- 
ence, by  ratifying  the  decree  concerning 
the  federal  or  departmental  army  of  twenty 
thousand  men,  on  condition  that  they  should 
rendezvous  at  Soissons,  not  at  Paris.  On 
the  decree  against  the  priests,  his  resolu- 
tion continued  unmoved,  and  immoveable. 
Thus  Religion,  wliich  had  for  half  a  centu- 
ry been  so  slightly  regarded  in  France,  at 
length  interposed  her  influence  in  deciding 
the  fate  of  the  King  and  the  kingdom. 

The  three  discarded  ministers  aflccted 
to  congratulate  each  other  on  being  releas- 
ed from  scenes  so  unconget.ial  to  their  re- 
publican virtues  and  sentiments,  as  the  an- 
ti-chambers of  a  court,  ^^here  men  were 
forced  to  wear  buckles  instead  of  shoe- 
strings, or  undergo  the  frowiis  of  ushers  and 
masters  of  ceremonies,  and  where  patriotic 
tongues  wete  compelled  to  practice  court- 
language,  and  to  address  a  being  of  the 
same  flesh  and  blood  as  their  own,  with  the 
titles  of  Sire,  and  your  Majesty.  The  un- 
happy pedants  were  not  long  in  learning 
that  there  are  constraints  worse  to  undergo 
than  the  etiquette  of  a  court,  and  sterner  des- 
pots to  be  found  in  the  ranks  of  a  republic, 
than  the  good-humoured  and  lenient  Louis. 
As  soon  as  dismissed,  they  posted  to  the 
.\ssembly  to  claim  the  applause  due  to  suf- 
fering virtue,  and  to  exhibit  their  letter  to 
those  for  whose  ears  it  was  really  written — 
the  sympathising  democrats  and  the  tri- 
bunes. 

They  were  accordingly,  as  victims  of 
their  democratic  zeal,  received  with  accla- 
mation ;  but  the  triumph  of  those  who  be 
stowed  it  was  unexpectedly  qualified  and 
diminished.  Dumouriez,  who  spoke  flu- 
ently, and  had  collected  proofs  for  such  a 
moment,  overwhelmed  the  Assembly  by  a 
charge  of  total  neglect  and  incapacity, 
against  Roland  and  his  two  colleagues.  He 
spoke  of  unrecruited  armies,  ungarrisoned 
forts,  unprovided  commissariats,  in  a  tone 
which  compelled  the  Assembly  to  receive 
his  denunciations  against  his  late  associ'< 
ates  in  the  ministry. 


<Jhap.  VIII.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


95 


But  although  his  unpleasant  and  threat- 
ening communications  made  a  momentary 
impression  on  the  Assembly,  almost  in  spite 
of  themselves,  the  wily  and  variable  orator 
eaw  that  he  could  only  maintaiin  his  ground 
as  minister,  by  procuring,  if  possible,  the 
assent  of  the  King  to  the  decree  against 
the  recusant  clergy.  He  made  a  final  at- 
•  tempt,  adongwith  his  ephemeral  colleagues  ; 
stated  his  conviction,  that  the  refusal  of 
the  King,  if  persisted  in,  would  be  the  cause 
of  insurrection ;  and,  finally,  tendered  his 
resignation,  in  case  their  urgent  advice 
should  be  neglected.  "  Think  not  to  terri- 
fy me  by  threats,"  replied  Louis.  "  My 
resolution  is  fixed.''  Dumouriez  was  not  a 
man  to  perish  under  the  ruins  of  the  throne 
which  h%  could  not  preserve.  His  resigna- 
tion was  again  tendered  and  accepted,  not 
without  marks  of  sensibility  on  the  Kini;'s 
part  and  his  own  ;  and  having  thus  saved  a 
part  of  his  credit  with  the  Assembly,  who 
respected  his  talents,  and  desired  to  use 
them  against  the  invaders,  he  dejiarted  from 
Paris  to  the  frontiers,  to  lead  the  van 
among  the  F'rench  victors. 

Louis  was  now  left  to  the  pitiless  storm 
of  revolution,  without  the  assistance  of  any 
one  who  could  in  the  least  assist  him  in  pi- 
loting through  the  tempest.  The  few  cour- 
tiers— or.  much  better  named — the  few  an- 
cient and  attached  friends,  who  remained 
around  his  person,  possessed  neither  tal- 
ents nor  influence  to  aid  him  ;  they  could 
but  lament  his  misfortunes  and  share  his 
ruin.  He  himself  expressed  a  deep  convic- 
tion, that  his  death  was  near  at  hand,  yet 
tlie  apprehension  neither  altered  his  firm- 
ness upon  points  to  which  he  esteemed  his 
conscience  was  party,  nor  changed  the  gen- 
eral quiet  placidity  of  his  temper.  A  ne- 
gotiation to  resign  his  crown  was,  perhaps, 
the  only  mode  which  remained,  atfording 
even  a  chance  to  avert  his  fate  ;  but  the 
days  of  deposed  monarchs  are  seldom  long, 
.ind  no  pledge  could  have  assured  Louis 
that  any  terms  which  the  Girondists  might 
grant,  would  have  been  ratified  by  their 
sterner  and  uncompromising  rivals  of  the 
Jacobin  party.  These  men  had  been  long 
determined  to  make  his  body  the  step  to 
their  iniquitous  power.  They  affected  to 
feel  for  the  cause  of  the  people,  with  the 
zeal  which  goes  to  slaying.  They  had 
helped  upon  the  crown,  and  its  unhappy 
wearer,  all  the  guilt  and  all  the  misfortunes 
of  the  Revolution  ;  it  wa.<  incumbent  on 
tliem  to  show  that  they  were  serious  in 
their  charge,  by  rendering  Louis  a  sin-of- 
fering for  the  nation.  On  the  whole,  it  was 
the  more  kingly  part  not  to  degrade  himself 
-  by  his  own  voluntary  act,  but  to  await  the 
period  which  was  to  close  at  once  his  life 
and  his  reign.  He  named  his  last  ministry 
from  the  dispirited  remnants  of  the  Consti- 
tutional partv.  which  still  made  a  feeble 
and  unsupported  struggle  against  the  Giron- 
dists and  Jacobins  in  the  .\ssembly.  They 
did  not  long  enjoy  their  precarious  office. 

The  factions  last  named  were  now  unit- 
ed in  tiie  purpose  of  precipitating  the  King 
from  his  throne  by  actual  and  direct  force. 
The  Toice  of  the  Girondists  \  ergniaud  had 


already  proclaimed  in  the  Assembly.  "  Ter 
ror."  he  said,  "  must,  in  the  name  of  the 
people,  burst  its  way  into  yonder  palace 
whence  she  has  so  often  sallied  forth  at  the 
command  of  monarchs." 

Though  the  insurrection  was  resolved 
upon,  and  thus  openly  announced,  each  fac- 
tion was  jealous  of  the  force  which  the  oth- 
er was  to  employ,  and  apprehensive  of  the 
use  which  might  be  made  of  it  against 
themselves,  after  the  conquest  was  obtain- 
ed. But,  however  suspicious  of  each  oth- 
er, they  were  still  more  desirous  of  their 
common  object,  the  destruction  of  the 
throne,  and  the  erection  of  a  republic, 
which  the  Brissotins  supposed  they  could 
hold  under  their  rule,  and  which  the  Jaco- 
bins were  determined  to  retain  under  their 
misrule.  An  insurrection  was  at  length  ar- 
ranged, which  had  all  the  character  of  that 
which  brought  the  King  a  prisoner  from 
Versailles,  the  Jacobins  being  the  prime 
movers  of  their  desperate  followers,  and 
the  actors  on  both  occasions  ;  while  the  Gi- 
rondists, on  the  20th  June,  1792.  hoped, 
like  the  Constitutionalists  on  the  6th  Octo- 
ber, 1789.  to  gain  the  advantage  of  the  en- 
teqarise  which  their  own  force  would  have 
been  unable  to  accomplish.  The  commu- 
nity, or  magistracy,  of  Paris,  which  was  en- 
tirely under  the  dominion  of  Robespierre, 
Danton,  and  the  Jacobins,  had  been  long 
providing  for  such  an  enterprise,  and  under 
pretext  that  they  were  arming  the  lower 
classes  against  invasion,  had  distributed 
pikes  and  other  weapons  to  the  rabble,  who 
were  to  be  used  on  this  occasion. 

On  the  20th  June,  tlie  sansculottes  of  the 
suburbs  of  Saint  Marceau  and  Saint  Antoine 
assembled  together,  armed  with  pikes, 
scythes,  hay-forks,  and  weapons  of  every 
description,  whether  those  actually  forged 
for  the  destruction  of  mankind,  or  those 
which,  invented  for  peaceful  purposes,  are 
readily  converted  by  popular  fury  into  of- 
fensive arms.  They  seemed,  notwithstand- 
ing their  great  numbers,  to  act  under  au- 
thority, and  amid  their  cries,  their  songs, 
their  dances,  and  the  wild  intermixture  of 
grotesque  and  fearful  revel,  appeared  to 
move  by  command,  and  to  act  with  an  una- 
nimity that  gave  the  effect  of  order  to  that 
which  was  in  itself  confusion.  They  were 
divided  into  bodies,  and  had  their  leaders. 
Standards  were  also  displayed,  carefully  se- 
lected to  express  the  character  and  purpose 
of  the  wretches  who  were  assembled  under 
them.  One  ensign  was  a  pair  of  tattered 
breeches,  with  the  motto,  '■'  Vivent  lea 
Sans  Culottes.''  Another  ensign-bearer, 
dressed  in  black,  carried  on  a  long  pole  a 
liog's  harslet,  that  is,  part  of  the  entrails  of 
that  animal,  still  bloody,  with  the  legend, 
'■  La  fresntre  d'lin  Aristocrat."  This  for- 
midable assemblage  was  speedily  recruited 
by  the  mob  of  Paris,  to  an  immense  multi- 
tude, whose  language,  gestures,  and  appear- 
ance, all  combined  to  announce  some  vio- 
lent catastrophe. 

The  terrified  citizens,  afraid  of  general 
pillage,  concentrated  themselves, — not  to 
defend  the  Kin?  or  protect  the  National 
.\ssembly,  but  for  the  preservation  of  the 


96 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  VIU. 


Palais  Royale,  where  the  splendour  of  the 
shops  was  most  likely  to  attract  the  cupid- 
•  ity  of  the  sansculottes.  A  strong  force  of 
armed  citizens  guarded  all  the  avenues  of 
this  temple  of  Mammon,  and,  by  excluding 
the  insurgents  from  its  precincts,  showed 
what  they  could  have  done  for  the  Hall  of 
the  Legislature,  or  the  palace  of  the  mon- 
arch, had  the  cause  of  either  found  favour  in 
their  eyes. 

The  insurrection  rolled  on  to  the  Hall 
of  the  Assembly,  surrounded  the  alarmed 
deputies,  and  filled  with  armed  men  every 
avenue  of  approach;  talked  of  a  petition 
which  they  meant  to  present,  and  demand- 
ed to  file  through  the  Hall  to  display  tlie 
force  by  which  it  was  supported.  The  ter- 
rified members  had  nothing  better  to  reply, 
than  by  a  request  that  the  insurgents  should 
only  enter  the  Assembly  by  a  representa- 
tive deputation — at  least  that,  coming  in  a 
body,  they  should  leave  their  arms  behind. 
The  formidable  petitioners  laughed  at  both 
proposals,  and  poured  through  the  Hall, 
shaking  in  triumph  their  insurrectionary 
weapons.  The  Assembly,  meanwhile,  made 
rather  an  ignoble  figure  ;  and  their  attempts 
to  preserve  an  outward  appearance  of  indif- 
ference, and  even  of  cordiality  towards 
their  foul  and  frightful  visitants,  have  been 
aptly  compared  to  a  band  of  wretched  come- 
dians, endeavouring  to  mitigate  the  resent- 
ment of  a  brutal  and  incensed  audience.* 

From  the  Hall  of  the  Assembly,  the  pop- 
ulace rushed  to  the  Tuilleries.  Prepara- 
tions had  been  made  for  defence,  and  sev- 
eral bodies  of  troops  were  judiciously  plac- 
ed, who,  with  the  advantages  afforded  by 
the  grates  and  walls,  might  have  defended 
their  posts  against  the  armed  rabble  which 
approached.  But  there  was  neither  union, 
loyalty,  nor  energy,  in  those  to  whom  the 
defence  was  intrusted,  nor  did  the  King,  by 
placing  himself  at  their  head,  attempt  to 
give  animation  to  their  courage. 

The  National  Guards  drew  off  at  the 
command  of  the  two  municipal  officers, 
decked  with  their  scarfs  of  office,  who 
charged  them  not  to  oppose  the  will  of  the 
peopl-e.  The  grates  were  dashed  to  pieces 
with  sledge  hammers.  The  gates  of  the 
palace  itself  were  shut,  but  the  rabble,  turn- 
ing a  cannon  upgn  them,  compelled  en- 


*  It  may  be  alleged  in  excuse,  that  the  Assem- 
bly had  no  resource  but  submission.  Yet,  brave 
men  in  similar  circumstances  have,  by  a  timely 
exertion  of  spirit,  averted  similar  insolencies. 
When  the  furious  Anti-Catbolic  mob  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  avenues  to,  and  even  the  lobbies 
of,  the  House  of  Commons,  in  1780,  General  Cosmo 
Gordon,  a  member  of  the  House,  went  up  to  the 
unfortunate  nobleman  under  whose  guidance  they 
were  supposed  to  act,  and  addressed  him  thus  : 
"  My  lord,  is  it  your  purpose  to  bring  your  rascal- 
ly adherents  into  the  House  of  Commons  < — for  if 
BO,  I  apprise  you,  that  the  instant  one  of  them  en- 
ters, I  pass  niy  sword,  not  through  his  body,  but 
your  lordship's."  Tlie  liint  was  sulnciont,  and  \\io 
mob  was  directo<l  to  another  quarter.  Undoubt- 
edly there  were,  in  the  French  Legislative  As- 
lombly,  men  capable  of  conjuring  down  the  storm 
vhey  iiad  raised,  and  who  might  have  been  movcil 
to  do  so,  had  any  man  of  courage  made  lliem  di- 
rectly and  personally  respoisiblo  lot  the  conse- 
^uencoa. 


trance,  and  those  apartments  of  royal  mag- 
nificence, so  long  the  pride  uf  France, 
were  laid  open  to  the  multitude,  like  those 
of  Troy  to  her  invaders  ; — 

Apparet  domus  intus,  et  atria  longa  patescunt, 
.\pparent  Priami  et  veterum  penetralia  regum.* 

The  august  palace  of  the  proud  house  of 
Bourbon  lay  thus  exposed  to  the  rude  gaze, 
and  vulgar  tread,  of  a  brutal  and  ferocious 
rabble.  Who  dared  have  prophesied  such 
an  event  to  the  royal  founders  of  this  state- 
ly pile,  to  the  chivalrous  Henry  of  Navarre, 
or  the  m.agnificent  Louis  XIV. ! — The  door 
of  the  apartment  entering  into  the  vestibule 
was  opened  by  the  hand^  of  Louis  himself, 
the  ill-fated  representative  of  this  lofty 
line.  He  escaped  with  difficulty  the  thrust 
of  a  bavonct,  made  as  the  door  was  in  the 
act  of  expanding.  There  were  ar.und  him 
a  handful  of  courtiers,  and  a  few  of  the 
grenadiers  of  the  National  Guard,  belong- 
ins;  to  the  section  of  Filles  Saint  Thomas, 
which  had  been  always  distinguished  for 
fidelity.  They  hurried  and  almost  forced 
the  King  into  the  emhrazure  of  a  window, 
erected  a  sort  of  barricade  in  front  with  ta- 
bles, and  stood  beside  him  as  his  defend- 
ers. The  crowd,  at  their  first  entrance, 
levelled  their  pikes  at  Madame  Elizabeth, 
whom  they  mistook  for  the  Queen.  "  Why 
did  you  undeceive  them  ?"  said  the  heroic 
princess  to  those  around  her—"  It  might 
have  saved  the  life  of  my  sister."  Even 
the  insurgents  were  allected  by  t'lis  trait  of 
heroism.  They  had  encountered  none  of 
those  obstacles  which  chafe  such  minds, 
and  make  them  thirsty  of  blood,  and  it 
would  seem  that  their  leaders  had  not  re- 
ceived decided  orders,  or,  having  received 
them,  did  not  think  the  time  served  for 
their  execution.  The  insurgents  defiled 
through  the  apartments,  and  passed  the 
King,'' now  joined  by  the  Queen  with  her 
children.  The  former,  though  in  the  ut- 
most personal  danger,  would  not  be  sepa- 
rated from  her  husband,  exclaiming,  that  her 
post  was  by  his  side  ;  the  lattei"  were  weep- 
ing with  terror  at  a  scene  so  horrible. 

The  people  seemed  moved,  or  rather 
their  purpose  was  deprived  of  that  energetic 
unanimity  which  had  hitherto  earned  them 
so  far.  Some  shouted  against  the  veto^ 
some  against  the  unconstitutional  priests, 
some  more  modestly  called  out  for  lower- 
ing the  price  of  bread  and  butcher-meat. 
One  of  them  flung  a  red  cap  to  the  King, 
who  quietly  drew  it  upon  his  head  ;  anoth- 
er offered  him  a  bottle,  and  commanded 
him  to  drink  to  the  Nation.  No  glass  could 
be  had,  and  he  was  obliged  to  drink  out  of 


*  Drydcn  has  expanded  those  magnificent  lines, 
without   expressing    entirely  cither  their  literal 
meaning  or  their  spirit.     But  he  has  added,  aa 
usual,  beautiful  ideas  of  his  own,  ei^ually  applica- 
ble to  the  scene  described  in  the  text : 
A  mighty  breach  is  made  •,  the  rooms  conccal'd 
.Vppear,  and  all  the  palace  is  reveal'd  ; 
The  halls  of  auilience,  and  of  public  state. 
And  where  the  lovely  Ciueen  in  secret  sate  ; 
Arm'd  soldiers  now  "by  trembling  maids  arc  seen. 
With  not  a  door,  and  scarce  a  space  betwecB  — 


Chap,  r///.] 


LIFE  OF  ^■APOLEO^'  BUONAPARTE. 


97 


the  bottle.     These  incidents  are  grotesque    disrespect  otTeredto  the  King.     This  IcUer 
and  degrading,  but  they  are  redeemed  by    of  itself  had  been  accounted  an  enormous 


offence,  both  by  the  Jacobins  and  the  Gi- 
rondists;  but  the  tumult  of  the  20th  of  June 
roused  the  General  to  bolder  acts  of  inter- 
cession. 

On  the  38th  of  the  same  month  of  June,  all 
parties  heard  with  as  much  interest  as  anx- 
iety, that  General  La  Fayette  was  in  Paris. 
He  came,  indeed,  only  with  a  part  of  his 
staff.  Had  he  brought  with  him  a  moderate 
body  of  troops  upon  whom  he  could  have 
absolutely  depended,  his  presence  so  sup- 
ported, in  addition  to  his  influence  in  Pa- 
ris, would  have  settled  the  point  at  issue. 
But  the  General  might  hesitate  to  diminish 
the  f  rench  armv  then  in  front  of  the  enemy, 
and  by  doing  so  to  take  on  himself  the  re- 
sponsibility of  what  might  happen  in  his  ab- 
sence ;  or,  as  it  appeared  from  subsequent 
events,  he  may  not  have  dared  to  repose 
the  necessary  confidence  in  any  corps  of  his 
armv,  so  completely  had  they  been  imbued 
with  the  revolutionary  spirit.  Still  his  ar- 
rival, thus  slightly  attended,  indicated  a 
confidence  in  his  own  resources^  which 
was  calculated  to  strike  the  opposite  party 
with  anxious  apprehension. 

He  appeared  at  the  bar  of  the  Assembly, 
and  addressed  the  members  in  a  strain  of 
decision  which  had  not  been  lately  heard 
on  the  part  of  those  who  pleaded  the  royal 
cause  in  that  place.  He  denounced  the  au- 
thors of  the  violence  commit'ed  on  the 
20th  of  June,  declared  that  several  corps 
of  his  army  had  addressed  him,  and  that  he 
came  to  express  their  horror  «s  well  as  his 
own  at  the  rapid  progress  of  faction  ;  and 
to  demand  that  such  measures  should  be  ta- 
ken as  to  ensure  the  defenders  of  France, 
that  while  they  were  shedding  their  blood 
on  the  frontiers,  the  Constitution,  for  which 
they  combated,  should  not  be  destroyed  by 
traitors  in  the  interior.  This  epeecli,  de- 
livered by  a  man  of  great  courage  and  re- 
doubted influence,  had  considerable  effect 
The  Girondists,  indeed,  proposed  to  in- 
quire, whether  La  Fayette  had  permission 
from  the  Minister  of  War  to  leave  thf; 
command  of  his  army ;  and  Sneeringlv  af- 
firmed, that  the  .Austrians  must  needs  fiave 
retreated  from  the  frontier,  f-iacc  the  Gen- 
eral of  the  French  army  had  returned  trv 
Paris:  but  a  considerable  mDJorily  prcfci- 
red  the  motion  of  the  Constitutionalist  Ra- 
mond,  who,  eulogising  La  Fayette  as  tlio 
eldest  son  of  liberty,  proposed  an  inquiry 
into  the  causes  and  object  of  those  factious 
proceedings  of  which  he  had  complained. 
Thus  happily  commenced  Li  Fayette's 
daring  enterprize  ;  but  thoie  by  whom  ^e 
expected  to  be  supportfd  did  not  rdliv 
around  him.  To  disoer^e 'he  Jacobin  Ciub 
the  head  of  an  army  whose  aflections  he  i  was  probably  his  object,  but  i;o  sufficient 
was  supposed  to  possess,  was  the  most  for-  |  force  gathered  about  him  to  encourage  thf 
midable  intercessor.  He  had  two  or  three  j  attempt.  He  ordered  for  the  next  day  a 
days  before  transmitted  to  the  Assembly  a  I  general  review  of  the  National  Guards,  ia 
letter,  or  rather  a  remonstrance,  in  which,  i  hopes,  doubtless,  that  thoy  v.ould  hive  re 
speaking  in  the  name  of  the  army,  as  well  !  cognized  the  voice  which  thev  had  obeyed 
as  his  own.  he  expressed  the  highest  dissat-  j  with  such  unanimity  of  subiliissioQ ;  Wt 
isfaction  with  the  recent  events  at  Paris,  |  this  civic  force  was  by  no  meon^  in  tho 
complaining  of  the  various  acts  of  viola-  i  state  in  which  he  had  left  tbem  at  hi«  de 
tioa  of  the  constitution,  and  the  personal  >  parturc.  The  several  corps  of  KreoadiOTs 
Vol,  I.  E 


one  oi  much  dignity,  '■'  Fear  nothing, 
.Sire,"  said  one  of  the  faithful  grenadiers  of 
the  National  Guard  who  defended  him.  The 
King  took  his  hand,  and  pressing  it  to  his 
heart,  replied,  •■  Judge  yourself  if  I  fear." 

Various  leaders  of  the  Republicans  were 
present  at  this  extraordinary  scene,  in  the 
apartments,  or  in  the  garden,  and  express- 
•  ed  themselves  according  to  their  various 
sentiments.  ■•  What  a  figure  they  have 
made  of  him  with  the  red  night-cap  and  the 
bottle  !"  said  Manuel,  the  Procureur  of  the 
Commune  of  Paris. — "  WTiat  a  magnificent 
^spectacle  !''  ."'Jiid  the  artist  David,  looking 
out  upon  the  tumultuary  sea  of  pikes,  agi- 
tated by  fifty  thousand  hands,  as;  they  rose 
and  sunk,  welked  and  waved  ; — "  Tremble, 
tremble,  tyrants  I" — "  They  are  in  a  fair 
train,"  said  the  fierce  Gorsas  ;  "  we  shall 
soon  see  their  pikes  garnished  with  several 
heads."  The  crowds  who  thrust  forward 
into  the  palace  and  the  presence,  were 
pressed  together  till  the  heat  increased  al- 
most to  suffocation,  nor  did  there  appear 
any  end  to  the  confusion. 

Late  and  slow,  the  Legislative  Assembly 
did  at  leni.'th  send  a  deputation  of  twenty- 
five  members  to  the  palace.  Their  arrival 
put  an  end  to  the  tumult  ;  for  Pethion,  the 
Mayor  of  Paris,  and  the  other  authorities, 
who  had  hitherto  been  well  nigh  passive, 
now  exerted  themselves  to  clear  away  the 
armed  populace  from  the  palace  and  gar- 
dens, and  were  so  readily  obeyed,  that  it 
was  evident  that  similar  efforts  would  have 
entirely  prevented  the  insurrection.  The 
"  poor  and  virtuous  people,"  as  Robespierre 
used  to  call  them,  with  an  affected  unction 
of  pronunciation,  retired  for  once  with  their 
pikes  unbloodied,  not  'a  little  marvelling 
why  they  had  been  called  together  for  such 
a  harmless  purpose. 

Tliat  a  mine  so  formidable  should  have 
exploded  without  effect'  gave  some  momen- 
tary advantages  to  the  party  at  whose  safety 
it  was  nimed.  Men  of  worth  exclaimed 
against  the  infamy  of  such  a  gratintous  in- 
•ult  to  the  Crown,  while  it  was  still  called  a 
Couelitutional  authority.  Men  of  sub- 
stance dreaded  the  recurrence  of  such  acts 
of  revolutionary  violence,  and  the  com- 
mencement of  riots,  which  were  likely  to 
end  in  pillage.  Petitions  were  presented 
to  the  Assembly,  covered  with  the  names  of 
thousands,  praying  that  the  leaders  of  the 
insurgents  should  be  brought  to  punish- 
ment ;  while  the  King  demanded,  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  to  appeal  to  France  and  to 
Europe,  some  satisfaction  for  his  insulted 
dignity,  the  violation  of  his  palace,  and  the 
danjtr  of  his  person.     But  La  Fayette,  at 


Q.-i 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  vni. 


whi<".l;  were  chiefly  drawn  from  the  more 
opuli!!it  classes,  had  been,  under  pretence 
oi  Uie  general  principle  of  equality,  inelled 
down  and  united  witli  those  composed  of 
iiif  n  of  an  inferior  description,  and  who 
had  a  wore  decided  revolutionary  tenden- 
cy: Many  oificers,  devoted  to  La  FayCtte 
and  the  (Constitution,  had  been  superseded  ; 
and  the  service  was,  by  studied  contumely 
and  ill  usage,  rendered  disgusting  to  those 
who  avowed  the  same  sentiments,  or  dis- 
played any  remaining  attachment  to  the 
sovereign.  By  such  means  Pethion,  the 
Mayor  of  Paris,  had  now  authority  enough 
with  the  civic  army  to  prevent  tlie  review 
from  taking  place.  A  few  grenadiers  of 
different  sections  did  indeed  muster,  but 
their  number  was  so  small  that  they  dis- 
persed in  haste  and  alarm. 

The  Girondists  and  Jacobins,  closely 
united  at  this  crisis,  bega^  to  take  heart, 
yet  dared  not  on  their  part  venture  to  ar- 
rest the  General.  Meantime  La  Fayette 
saw  no  other  means  of  saving  the  King 
than  to  propose  his  anew  attempting  an  es- 
cape from  Paris,  which  he  offered  to  fur- 
ther by  every  means  in  his  power.  The  plan 
was  discussed,  but  dismissed  in  conse- 
quence of  the  Queen's  prejudices  against 
f^a  Fayette,  whom,  not  unnaturally,  (though 
as  far  as  regarded  intention  certainly  un- 
jitstly.)  she  regarded  as  the  original  author 
of  the  King's  misfortunes.  After  two  days 
lin:;ering  in  Pans,  La  Fayette  found  it  ne- 
cessary to  return  to  the  army  which  he 
commanded,  and  leave  the  King  to  his  fate. 

La  Fayette"s  conduct  on  this  occasion 
may  alway.s  be  opposed  to  any  aspersions 
thrown  on  his  character  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Revolution  ;  for,  unquestiona- 
bly, in  June  179:^,  he  exposed  his  own  life 
to  the  most  imminent  danger  in  order  to 
protect  that  of  the  King,  and  the  existence 
of  royalty.  Yet  he  must  have  felt  a  lesson, 
which  his  fate  may  teach  tcf  others  ;  how 
perilous,  namely,  it  is,  to  set  the  example 
of  violent  and  revolutionary  courses,  and 
what  dangerous  precedents  such  rashness 
may  afford  to  those  who  use  similar  means 
for  carrying  events  to  still  farther  extremi- 
ties. The  march  to  Versailles,  6th  Octo- 
ber 1789,  in  which  La  Fayette  to  a  certain 
degree  co-operated,  and  of  which  he  reap- 
ed all  the  immediate  advantage,  had  been 
the  means  of  placing  Louis  in  that  precari- 
ous situation  from  which  he  was  now  so 
generously  anxious  to  free  him.  It  was  no 
less  La  Fayette's  own  act,  by  means  of  his 
personad  aide-de-camp,  to  bring  back  the 
person  of  the  King  to  Paris  from  Varennes  ; 
whereas  he  was  now  recommending,  and 
offering  to  further  his  escape,  by  precisely 
such  measures  as  his  interference  had  then 
thwarted. 

Notwithstanding  the  low  state  of  the 
royal  party,  one  constituted  authority, 
amongst  so  many,  had  the  courage  to  act 
offensively  on  the  wsaker  and  the  injured 
side.  The  Directory  of  the  Department 
(or  province)  of  Paris,  declared  against 
the  Mayor,  imputed  to  him  the  blame  of 
the  scandalous  excesses  of  the  20th  of  June, 
«Dd  BUBpended  him  and  Manuel,  the  Pro- 


cureur  of  the  Community  of  Paris,  front 
their  offices.  This  judgment  was  athrmed 
by  the  King.  But,  under  the  protection  of 
the  Girondists  and  Jacobins,  Pethion  ap 
pealed  to  the  Assembly,  where  the  demon 
of  discord  seemed  now  let  loose,  as'the  ad- 
vantage was  contended  tor  by  at  least  three 
parties,  avowedly  distinct  from  each  other, 
together  with  innumerable  subdivisions  of 
opinion.  And  yet,  in  the  midst  of  such 
complicated  and  divided  interests,  such  va- 
rious and  furious  passions,  two  individuals 
a  lady  and  a  bishop,  undertook  to  restore 
general  concord,  and,  singular  to  tell,  thej 
had  a  momentary  success.  Olympia  dea 
Gouges  was  an  ardent  lover  of  liberty,  but 
she  united  with  this  passion  an  intense 
feeling  of  devotion,  and  a  turn  like  that  en- 
tertained by  our  friends  the  Quakers,  and 
other  sects  who  affect  a  transcendantal  love 
of  the  human  kind,  and  interpret  the  doc- 
trines of  Christian  morality  in  the  most 
strict  and  literal  sense.  This  person  had 
sent  abroad  several  publications  recom- 
mending* to  all  citizens  of  France,  and  the 
deputies  especially  of  the  Assembly,  to 
throw  aside  personal  views,  and  form  a 
brotherly  and  general  union  with  heart  and 
hand,  in  the  service  of  the  public. 

The  same  healing  overture,  as  it  would 
have  been  called  in  the  civil  dissensions  of 
England,  was  brought  before  the  .\sseifibly  * 
and  recommended  by  the  constitutional 
Bishop  of  Lyons,  the  Abbe  L'Araourette. 
This  good-natured  orator  affected  to  see,  ia 
the  divisions  which  rent  the  Assembly  to 
pieces,  only  the  result  of  an  unfortunate  error 
— a  mutual  misunderstanding  of  each  other's 
meaning. — "  You,"  he  said  to  the  Republi- 
can members,  "  are  afraid  of  an  undue  at- 
tachment to  aristocracy ;  you  dread  the 
introduction  of  the  English  system  of  two 
Chambers  into  the  Cbnstitution.  You  of 
the  right  hand,  on  the  contrary,  misconstrue 
your  peaceful  and  ill-understood  brethren, 
so  far  as  to  suppose  them  capable  of  re- 
nouncing monarchy,  as  established  by  the 
Constitution.  What  then  remains  to  ex- 
tinguish these  fatal  divisions,  but  for  eacU 
partv  to  disown  the  designs  falsely  imputed 
to  them,  and  for  the  Assembly  united  to 
swear  anew  their  devotion  to  the  Constitu- 
tion, as  it  has  been  bequeathed  to  us  by  the 
Constituent  Assembly  !" 

This  speech,  wonderful  as  it  may  seenv, 
had  the  effect  of  magic ;  the  deputies  of 
every  faction,  Royalist,  Constitutionalist, 
Girondist,  Jacobin,  and  Orleanist,  rushed 
into  each  other's  arms,  and  mixed  tears 
with  the  solemn  oaths  by  which  they  re- 
nounced the  innovations  supposed  to  be 
imputed  to  them.  The  King  was  sent  for 
to  enjov  this  spectacle  of  concord,  so 
strangely  and  so  unexpectedly  renewed. 
Rut  the  feeling,  though  strong, — and  it 
might  be  with  many  overpowering  for  the 
moment, — was  but  like  oil  spilled  on  the 
raging  sea,  or  rather  like  a  shot  fired  acro?a 
the  waves  of  a  torrent,  which,  though  it 
counteracts  them  by  its  momentary  im- 
pulse,   cannot    for  a  second    alter    their 


>  9tb  Jul;. 


Chap.    VIll] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


99 


course.  The  factions,  like  Le  Sage's  de- 
mona,  detested  each  other  the  more  for 
having  been  compelled  to  embrace,  and 
from  the  name  and  countrv  of  the  benevo- 
lent bishop,  the  scene  was  long  cadled,  in 
ridicule,  Le  Baiser  d' Amourette ,  and  La 
reconciliation  Normande. 

The  next  public  ceremony  showed  how 
little  party  spirit  had  been  abated  by  this 
singular  scene.  The  King's  acceptance  of 
the  Constitution  was  repeated  in  the  Champ 
de  Mars  before  the  Federates,  or  deputies 
eent  up  to  represent  the  various  depart- 
ments of  France  ;  and  the  figure  made  by 
the  King  durmg  that  pageant,  formed  a 
striking  and  melancholy  parallel  with  his 
actual  condition  in  the  state.  With  hair 
powdered  and  dressed,  with  clothes  em- 
Droidered  in  the  ancient  court-fashion,  sur- 
rounded and  crowded  unceremoniously  by 
men  of  the  lowest  rank,  and  in  the  most 
wretched  garbs,  he  seemed  something  be- 
longing to  a  former  ase.  but  which  in  the 
present  has  l^t  its  fashion  and  value.  He 
was  conducte*  to  the  Champ  de  Mars  un- 
der a  strong  guard,  and  by  a  circuitous 
route,  to  avoid  the  insults  of  the  multitude, 
who  dedicated  their  applauses  to  the  Giron- 
dist Mayor  of  Paris,  exclaiming,  "  Pethion 
or  Death  !"'  When  he  ascended  the  altar  to 
go  through  the  ceremonial  of  the  day,  all 
were  struck  with  the  resemblance  to  a  vic- 
tim led  to  sacrifice,  and  the  Queen  so  much 
so,  that  she  exclaimed  and  nearly  fainted. 
A  few  children  alone  called  Vive  le  Roi  ! 
This  was  the  last  time  Louis  was  seen  in 
public  until  he  mounted  the  scaffold. 

The  departure  of  La  Fayette  renewed 
the  courage  of  the  Girondists,  and  they  pro- 
posed a  decree  of  impeachment  again'st  him 
in  the  Assembly ;  but  the  spirit  which  the 
General's  presence  had  a>vakenpd  was  not 
yet  extinguished,  and  his  friends  in  the  As- 
sembly undertook  his  defence  with  a  de- 
gree of  uneipected  courage,  which  alarmed 
their  antagonists.  Nor  could  their  fears  be 
termed  groundless.  The  Constitutional 
General  might  march  his  army  upon  Paris, 
or  he  migiittnake  some  accommodation  with 
the  foreign  invaders,  and  receive  assistance 
from  them  to  accomplish  such  a  purpose. 
It  seemed  to  the  Girondists,  that  no  time 
was  to  be  lost.  They  determined  not  to 
trust  to  the  Jacobins,  to  whose  want  of  res- 
olution they  seem  to  have  ascribed  the  fail- 
ure of  the  insurrection  of  the  20th  of  June. 
They  resolved  upon  occasion  of  the  next 
effort,  to  employ  some  part  of  that  depart- 
mental force,  which  was  now  approaching 
Paris  in  straggling  bodies,  under  the  name 
of  Federates.  The  affiliated  clubs  had 
faithfully  obeyed  the  mandates  of  the  parent 
society  of  the  Jacobins,  by  procuring  that 
the  most  stanch  and  exalted  Revolutionists 
should  be  sent  on  this  service.  These  men, 
or  the  greater  part  of  them,  chose  to  visit 
Paris,  rather  than  to  pass  straight  to  their 
rendezvous  at  Soissons.  As  they  believed 
themselves  the  armed  representatives  of 
the  country,  they  behaved  with  all  the  in- 
solence which  the  consciousness  of  bearing 
arms  gives  to  those  who  are  unaccustomed 
to  discipline.    They  walked  in  large  bodies 


in  the  Garden  of  the  Tuilleries,  and  whea 
any  persons  of  the  royal  family  appeared, 
they  insulted  the  ladies  with  obscene  larv- 
guage  and  indecent  songs,  the  men  with  the 
most  hideous  threats.  The  Girondists  re- 
solved to  frame  a  force,  which  might  be 
called  their  own,  out  of  such  formidable 
materials. 

Barbarous,  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic 
admirers  of  the  Revolution,  a  youth  like 
the  Seid  of  Voltaire's  tragedy, 'filled  with 
the  most  devoted  enthusiasm  for  a  cause  of 
which  he  never  suspected  the  truth,  offered 
to  bring  up  a  battalion  of  Federates  from 
his  native  city  of  Marseilles,  men,  as  he 
describes  them,  who  knew  how  to  die,  and 
who,  as  it  proved,  understood  at  least  as 
well  how  to  kill.  In  raking  up  the  disgust- 
ing history  of  mean  and  bloody-minded 
demagogues,  it  is  impossible  not  to  dwell 
on  the  contrast  afforded  by  the  generous 
and  self-devoted  character  of  Barbaroux, 
who,  voung,  handsome,  generous,  noble- 
minded,  and  disinterested,  sacrificed  his 
family-happiness,  his  fortune,  and  Snally  hr» 
lile,  to  an  enthusiastic  though  mistaken 
zeal  for  the  liberty  of  his  country.  He  had 
become  from  the  commencement  of  the 
Revolution  one  of  its  greatest  champions 
at  Marseilles,  where  it  had  been  forwarded 
and  opposed  by  all  the  fervour  of  faction, 
influenced  by  the  southern  sun.  He  had 
admired  the  extravagant  writings  of  Marat 
and  Robespierre  ;  but  when  he  came  to 
know  them  personally,  he  was  disgusted 
with  their  low  sentiments  and  savage  dis- 
positions, and  went  to  worship  Freedom 
amongst  the  Girondists,  w.here  her  shrine 
was  served  by  the  fair  and  acccmplished 
Citoyenne  Roland. 

The  Marseillois,  besides  the  advantage 
of  this  enthusiastic  leader,  marched  to  the 
air  of  the  finest  hymn  to  which  liberty-  or 
the  Revolution  had  yet  giren  birth.  They 
appeared  in  Paris,  where  it  had  been  ^^reed 
between  the  Jacobins  a^id  the  Giroi.dists, 
that  the  strangers  should  be  welcomed  bv 
the  fraternity  of  the  suburbs,  raid  whatever 
other  force  the  factions  could  command. 
Thus  united,  they  were  to  march  to  secure 
the  municipality,  occupy  the  bridgesi  and 
principal  posts  of  the  city  with  detached 
parties,  while  the  main  body  should  pro- 
ceed to  form  an  encampment  »n  the  tj-a/icn 
of  the  Tuilleries,  where  the  conspirators 
had  no  doubt  they  should  Sotl  th'Ti  <-:;N';h 
sufficiently  pov/erful  to  e\act  the  Kings 
resignation,  or  declare  his  forfeiture. 

This  plan  failed  through  the  cowardice 
of  ."^anterre,  the  chief  leader  of  the  insur- 
gents of  the  suburbs,  who  had  engaged  to 
meet  the  Marseillois  with  fortv  thousam'. 
men.  Very  few  of  the  promised  auxTliaries 
appeared;  but  the  undismayed  Marseilloif. 
though  only  about  five  Lundred  in  nu»iber, 
marched  through  the  citv  to  the  terror  of 
the  inhabitants,  their  keen  black  evo? 
seeming  to  seek  out  aristocratic  victims, 
and  their  song.--  partaking  of  the  wild  Moor- 
ish character  that  lingers  in  the  south  of 
Fr.ance,  denouncing  vongeaacc  on  kinpi, 
priests,  and  nobles. 

In  the  Tuilleries  the  Federated   fixed  a 


100 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[CiMp.  VIll. 


quarrel  on  some  ^enadiers  of  the  National 
Guard,  who  were  attached  to  the  Constitu- 
tion, and  giving  instant  way  to  their  habit- 
ual impetuosity  attacked,  defeated,  and 
dispersed  tiiem.  In  the  riot,  Esnremenil, 
who  had  headed  the  opposition  to  tlie  will 
of  the  Xing  in  Parliament,  which  led  the 
way  to  the  Convocation  of  Estates,  and 
who  had  been  once  the  idol  of  the  people, 
but  now  had  become  the  object  of  their  hate, 
was  cut  down  and  about  to  be  massacred. 
"  Assist  me,"  he  called  out  to  Pethiou,  who 
had  come  to  the  scene  of  confusion, — ''  I 
am  Esprenienil — once,  as  you  are  now,  the 
minion  of  the  people's  love."  Pethion, 
not  unmoved,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  at  the 
terms  of  the  appeal,  hastened  to  rescue 
him.  Not  long  afterwards  both  suffered  by 
the  guillotine,  which  was  the  bloody  con- 
clusion of  so  many  popular  favourites.  The 
riot  was  complained  of  by  the  Constitution- 
al party,  but  as  usual  it  was  explained  by  a 
declaration  on  the  part  of  ready  witnesses, 
that  the  forty  civic  soldiers  had  insulted 
and  attacked  the  five  hundred  Marseillois, 
and  therefore  brought  the  disaster  upon 
themselves. 

Meanwhile,  though  their  hands  were 
strengthened  by  this  band  of  unscrupulous 
and  devoted  implements  of  their  purpose, 
the  Girondists  failed  totally  in  their  attempt 
against  La  Fayette  in  the  Assembly,  the  de- 
cree of  accusation  against  him  being  reject- 
ed by  a  victorious  majority.  They  were 
therefore  induced  to /resort  to  measures  of 
direct  violence,  which  unquestionably  thfey 
would  wiLlingly  have  abstained  from,  since 
they  could  not  attempt  them  without  giv- 
ing a  perilous  superiority  to  the  Jacobin 
faction.  The  manifesto  of  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  and  his  arrival  on  the  French 
frontier  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  Prussian 
army,  acted  upon  the  other  motives  for  in- 
surrection, as  a  high  pressure  upon  a  steam- 
engine,  producing  explosion. 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  Louis,  as  we 
have  often  noticed,  to  be  as  frequently  in- 
jured by  the  false  measures  of  his  friends 
as  by  the  machinations  of  his  enemies  ;  and 
this  proclamation,  issue(l  by  a  monarch  who 
had  taken  arms  in  the  King's  cause,  was 
couched  in  language  intolerable  to  the  feel- 
ings even  of  such  Frenchmen  as  might  still 
retain  towards  their  King  some  sentiments 
of  loyalty.  All  towns  or  villages  which 
should  oner  the  slightest  resistance  to  the 
allies,  were  in  this  ill-timed  manifeste  me- 
naced with  fire  and  sword.  Paris  was  de- 
clared responsible  for  the  safety  of  Louis, 
and  the  most  violent  threats  of  the  tutal 
subversion  of  that  great  metropolis  were 
denounced  as  the  penalty. 

The  Duke  of  Brunswick  was  undoubted- 
ly induced  to  assume  this  tone,  by  the  case 
■which  he  had  experienced  in  putting  down 
the  revolution  in  Holland ;  but  the  cases 
were  by  no  means  parallel.  Holland  w;is  a 
country  much  divided  in  political  opinions, 
and  there  was  existing  among  the  constitut- 
ed authorities  a  strong  party   in  favour  of 


the  Stadtholder.  France,  on  the  contrarr 
excepting  only  the  emigrants  who  were  io 
the  Duke's  own  array,  were  united,  like  the 
Jews  of  old,  against  foreign  invasion, 
tiiougii  divided  into  many  bitter  faction* 
aniongrjt  themselves.  Above  all,  the  com- 
])arative  strength  of  France  and  Holland 
were  so  different,  that  a  force  which  might 
overthrow  the  one  country  without  almost 
a  struggle,  would  scarce  prove  sufficient  to 
wrest  from  such  a  nation  as  France  even 
the  most  petty  of  her  frontier  fortresses. 
It  cannot  be  doubted,  tliat  this  haughty  and 
insolent  language  on  the  part  of  the  inva- 
ders irritated  the  personal  feelings  of  every 
true  P'renchraan,  and  determined  them  to 
the  most  obstinate  resistance  against  inva- 
ders, who  were  confident  enough  to  treat 
them  as  a  conquered  people,  even  before  a 
skirmish  had  been  fought.  The  impru- 
dence of  the  allied  General  recoiled  on  the 
unfortunate  Louis,  on  whose  account  he 
used  this  menacing  language.  Men  began 
to  consider  his  cause  as  identified  with  that 
of  the  invaders,  of  course  as  manding  in 
diametrical  opposition  to  that  of  the  coun- 
try ;  and  these  opinions  spread  generally 
among  the  citizens  of  Paris.  To  animate 
the  citizens  to  their  defence,  the  Assembly 
declared  that  the  country  was  in  danger ; 
and  in  order  that  the  annunciation  might  bo 
more  impressive,  cannon  were  hourly  dis- 
charged from  the  hospital  des  Jnvalide» — 
bands  of  military  music  traversed  the 
streets — bodies  of  men  were  drawn  togeth- 
er hastily,  as  if  tlie  enemy  were  at  the 
gates — and  all  the  hurried  and  hasty  move- 
ments of  the  constituted  authorities  seem- 
ed to  announce,  that  the  invaders  wer« 
within  a  day's  march  of  Paris. 

These  distracting  and  alarming  move- 
ments, with  the  sentiments  of  fear  and  anx- 
iety v.'hich  they  v^-ere  qualified  to  inspire, 
aggravated  the  unpopularity  of  Louis,  in 
whose  cause  his  brothers  and  his  allies 
were  now  threatening  the  metropolis  of 
France.  From  these  concurring  circum- 
stances the  public  voice  was  indeed  sc 
strongly  against  the  cause  of  monarchy 
that  the  Girondists  ventured  by  their  organ, 
\'ergMiaud.  to  accuse  the  King  iii  the  As 
sembly  of  holding  intelligence  with  the 
enemy,  or  at  least  of  omitting  sufficient  de- 
fensive preparations,  and  proposed  in  ex- 
press terms  that  they  should  proceed  to  de- 
clare his  forfeiture.  The  orator,  how<>ver, 
did  not  press  this  motion,  willing,  doubt- 
less, that  the  power  of  carrying  through 
and  enforcing  such  a  decree  should  be  com- 
pletely ascertained,  which  could  only  ba 
after  a  mortal  struggle  with  the  last  defend- 
ers of  the  Crown  ;  but  when  a  motion  liks 
this  could  be  made  and  seconded,  it  show- 
ed pl.ainlv  h.ow  little  respect  was  preserved 
for  tlie  King  in  the  Assembly  at  large.  For 
thi.s  struggle  all  parties  were  arranging  their 
forces,  and  it  became  every  hour  more  evi- 
dent, that  the  capital  was  speedily  to  b« 
the  scene  of  some  dreadful  event. 


Chap.  IX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


101 


CHAP.  ZX. 

The  Day  of  the  lOth  of  August — Tocsin  sounded  early  in  tlie  Morning. — Swiss  Oitardt, 
and  relics  of  the  Royal  Party,  repair  to  the  Tiiilleries. — Mandat  assassinated. — De- 
jection of  Louis,  and  e7iergy  of  tht  Queen. — King's  Ministers  appear  at  the  Bar  of 
the  Assembly,  stating  the  peril  of  the  Royal  Family,  and  requesting  a  Deputation 
might  be  sent  to  the  Palace. — Assembly  pass  to  the  Order  of  the  Day. — Louis  and  hi* 
Family  repair  to  the  Assembly. — Conflict  at  the  Tuilleries. — Swiss  ordered  to  repair 
to  tUe  King's  Person — and  are  many  of  them  shot  and  dispersed  on  their  way  to  the 
Assembly. — At  the  close  of  the  Day  almost  all  of  them  are  massacred. — Royal  Fam- 
ily spend  the  Night  in  tlie  neighbouring  Convent  of  the  Feuillans. 


Thk  King  had,  since  the  insurrection  of 
the  20th  of  June,  which  displayed  how 
much  he  was  at  the  mercy  of  Ins  enemies, 
renounced  almost  all  thoughts  of  sal'ety  or 
escape.  Henry  IV.  would  have  called  ibr 
his  arms — Louis  XVI.  demanded  his  con- 
fessor. "I  hiive  no  longer  ai»y  thing  to  do 
■with  earth/'  he  said ;  ''  I  must  turn  all  my 
thoughts  on  Heaven.''  Some  vain  efforts 
were  made  to  bribe  the  leaders  of  the  Jac- 
obins, who  took  the  money,  and  pursued,  as 
might  have  been  exj^ected,  their  own  course 
with  equal  rigour.  The  motion  for  the 
declaration  of  the  King's  forfeiture  still  lin- 
gered in  the  Convention,  its  fate  depending 
upon  the  coming  crisis.  At  length  the  fa- 
bil  10th  of  August  approached,  being  the 
day  which,  after  repeated  adjournments, 
had  been  fixed  by  the  Girondists  and  their 
rivals  for  the  final  rising. 

The  King  was  apprised  of  their  intention, 
and  had  hastily  recalled  from  their  barracks 
at  Courbe-V'oie  about  a  thousand  Swiss 
guards,  upon  whose  fidelity  he  could  de- 
pend. The  formidable  discipline  and  steady 
aemeanour  of  these  gallant  mountaineers, 
might  have  recalled  the  description  given 
by  historians,  of  the  entrance  of  their  pre- 
decessors into  Paris  under  similiar  circum- 
stances, the  day  before  the  affair  of  the 
Barricades,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.*  But 
the  present  moment  was  too  anxious  to  ad- 
mit of  reflections  upon  past  history. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  10th  of  Au- 
gust, the  tocsin  rung  out  its  alarm  peal  over 
the  terrified  city  of  Paris,  and  announced 
that  the  long-menaced  insurrection  was  at 
length  On  foot.  In  many  parishes  the  Con- 
stitutional party  resisted  those  who  came 
to  sound  this  awful  signal ;  but  the  well- 
prepared  Jacobins  were  found  everywhere 
TJctorious,  and  the  prolonged  mournful 
Bound  was  soon  tolled  out  from  every  stee- 
ple in  the  metropolis. 

To  this  melancholy  music  the  contend- 
ing parties  arranged  their  forces  for  attack 
and  defence,  upon  a  day  which  was  doomed 
to  be  decisive. 

The  Swiss  gOards  got  under  arms,  and 
repaired  to  their  posts  in  and  around  the 
palace.  About  four  hundred  grenadiers  of 
the   loyal  section  of  Filles  Saint  Thomas, 


•  Thus  imitated  by  the  dramatist  Lee,  from  the 
hiatorian  Oavila  : 

•*  Have  you  not  heard — the  King,  preventing  day, 
Received  the  Guards  within  the  city  gates  ; 
The  jolly  Swisses  marching  to  their  pipes, 
The  crowd  stood  gaping  heedless  and  amazed, 
Shrunk  to  their  shops  and  left  the  passage  free." 


joined  by  several  from  that  of  Les  Petits 
Peres,  in  whom  all  confidence  could  justly 
be  reposed,  were  posted  i.n  the  interior  of 
the  palace,  and  a,«sociated  with  the  Swiss 
for  its  defence.  The  relics  of  the  Royal- 
ist partv,  undismayed  at  the  events  of  the 
28th  of  February  in  the  year  preceding,* 
had  repaired  to  the  palace  on  the  first  sig- 
nal given  l»y  the  tocsin.  Joined  to  the  do- 
mestic attendants  of  the  royal  family,  they 
might  amount  to  about  four  hundred  per- 
sons. ^Vothing  can  more  strongly  mark  the 
unprepared  state  of  the  court,  than  that 
there  were  neither  muskets  nor  bayonets 
for  s'-.itably  arming  these  volunteers,  nor 
any  supply  of  ammunition,  save  what  the 
Swiss  and  national  grenadiers  had  in  their 
pouches.  The  appearance  also  of  this  lit- 
tle troop  tended  to  inspire  dismay  rather 
than  confidence.  The  chivalrous  cry  of 
"  Entrance  for  the  Noblesse  of  France," 
was  the  signal  for  their  filing  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  royal  family.  -Mas  !  instead 
of  the  thousaiid  nobles  whose  swords  used 
to  gleam  around  their  monarch  at  such  a 
crisis,  there  entered  but  veteran  officers  of 
rank,  whose  strength,  though  not  their 
spirit,  was  consumed  by  years,  mixed  with 
boys  scarce  beyond  the  age  of  children,  and 
with  men  of  civil  professions,  several  of 
whom,  Lanioignon  Malesherbes  for  exam- 
ple, had  now  for  the  first  time  worn  a  sword. 
Their  arras  were  as  miscellaneous  as  iheir 
appearance.  Rapiers,  hangers,  and  pistols, 
were  the  weapons  with  which  they  were  to 
encounter  bands  well  provided  with  mus- 
ketry and  artillery.  Their  couraje,  howev- 
er, was  unabated.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
Queen  conjured,  almost  with  tears,  men 
aged  fourscore  and  upwards,  to  retire  from 
a  contest  where  their  strength  could  avail 
so  little.  The  veterans  felt  that  the  fatal 
hour  was  come,  and,  unable  to  fight,  claim- 
ed  the  privilege  of  dying  in  the  discharge 
of  their  duty. 

The  behaviour  of  Marie  Antoinette  wag 
magnanimous  in  the  highest  degree.  "  Her 
majestic  air,"  says  Peltier,  "  her  Austrian 
lip,  and  aquiline  nose,  gave  her  an  air  of 
dignity,  which  can  only  be  conceived  by 
those  who  beheld  her  iu  that  trying  hour." 
Could  she  have  inspired  the  King  with 
some  portion  of  her  active  spirit,  he  might 
even  at  that  extreme  hour  have  wrested  the 
victory  from  the  Revolutionists ;  but  the 
misfortunes  which  he  could  endure  like  a 


*  When    they  were  in  similar  circumstance* 
maltreated  by  the  National  Guard.    Sec  page  76. 


102 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


IChop.  IX. 


eaint,  lis  could  not  face  and  combat  like  a 
hero  ;  and  his  scruples  about  shedding  hu- 
man blood  well  nigh  unmanned  him. 

The  distant  shouts  of  the  enemy  were 
already  heard,  while  the  Gardens  of  the 
Tuillenes  were  fiLed  by  the  successive  le- 
gions of  th€  National  Guard,  with  their 
cannon.  Of  this  civic  force,  some,  and  es- 
pecially the  artillerymen,  were  as  ill-dispos- 
ed towards  the  King  as  was  possible  ;  others 
were  well  inclined  to  him  ;  and  tlie  great- 
er part  remained  doubtful.  Mandat,  their 
commander,  was  entirely  in  the  royal  in- 
terests. He  had  disposed  the  force  he 
commanded  to  the  best  advantage  for  dis- 
couraging the  mutinous,  and  giving  confi- 
dence to  the  well-disposed,  when  he  receiv- 
ed an  order  to  repair  to  the  municipality 
for  orders.  He  went  thither  accordingly, 
expecting  the  support  of  such  Constitution- 
alists as  remained  in  that  magistracy,  but 
he  found  it  entirely  in  possession  of  the 
Jacobin  party.  Mandat  was  arrested,  and 
ordered  a  prisoner  to  the  Abbaye,  which 
he  never  reached,  being  pistoled  by  an  as- 
sassin at  the  gate  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  His 
death  was  an  inSnite  loss  to  the  King's  party. 

A  signal  advantage  had  at  the  same  time 
been  suffered  to  escape.  Pethion,  the 
Brissotin  Mayor  of  Paris,  was  now  observ- 
ed among  the  National  Guards.  The  Roy- 
alists possessed  themselves  of  his  person, 
and  brought  him  to  the  palace,  where  it 
was  proposed  to  detain  this  popular  magis- 
trate as  an  hostage.  Upoa  this,  his  friends 
in  the  Assembly  moved  that  he  should  be 
brought  to  the  bar,  to  render  an  account 
of  the  state  of  the  capital ;  a  message  was 
despatched  accordingly  requiring  his  atten- 
dance, and  Louis  had  the  weakness  to  per- 
mit him  to  depart. 

The  motions  of  the  assailants  were  far 
from  being  so  prompt  and  lively  as  upon 
former  occasions,  when  no  great  resistance 
was  anticipated.  Santerre,  an  eminent 
brewer,  who,  from  his  gieat  capital,  and  his 
affectation  of  popular  zeal,  had  raised  him- 
self to  the  command  of  the  suburb  forces, 
was  equally  inactive  in  mind  and  body,  and 
by  no  means  fitted  for  the  desperate  part 
which  he  was  called  on  to  play.  Wester- 
man,  a  zealous  Republican,  and  a  soldier 
of  skill  and  courage,  came  to  press  San- 
terre'a  march,  informing  him  that  the  Mar- 
seillois  and  Breton  Federates  were  in  arms 
in  the  Place  du  Carousel,  and  expected  the 
advance  of  the  pikemen  from  the  suburbs 
of  oaint  Antoine  and  .St.  Margeau.  On 
'  Santerre's  hesitating,  Westerman  placed 
;  his  S\vord-point  at  his  throat,  and  the  citi- 
zen commandant,  yielding  to  the  nearer 
terror,  put  his  bands  at  length  in  motion. 
Their  numbers  were  immense.  But  the 
real  strength  of  the  assault  was  to  lie  on  the 
Federates  of  Marseilles  and  Bretagne,  and 
othei  provinces,  who  nad  been  carefully  pro- 
vided with  arms  and  ammunition.  They 
were  also  secure  of  the  Gens-d'armes,  or 
soldiers  of  police,  although  these  were  call- 
ed out  and  arranged  on  the  King's  side. 
The  Marseillois  and  Bretons  were  plac- 
ed at  the  head  of  the  long  columns  of  the 
Euburb  pikemen,  aa  the  edge  of  an  axe  is 


armed  with  steel,  while  the  back  is  of 
coarser  metal  to  give  weight  to  the  blow. 
The  charge  of  the  attack  was  committed  to 
Westerman. 

In  the  meantime,  the  defenders  of  the 
place  advised  Louis  to  undertake  a  review 
of  the  troops  assembled  for  his  defence. 
His  appearance  and  mien  were  deeply  de- 
jected, and  lis  wore,  instead  of  a  uniforio, 
a  suit  of  violet,  which  is  the  mourning  col- 
our of  sovereigns.  His  words  were  brok- 
en and  interrupted,  like  the  accents  of  a 
man  in  despair,  and  void  of  tlie  energy  enit- 
able  to  the  occasion.  "  I  know  not''  he  said, 
■'  what  they  wouldhave  from  me — I  am  wil- 
ling to  die  with  my  faithful  servants — Yes, 
gentlemen,  we  will  at  length  do  our  best 
to  resist."  It  was  in  vain  that  the  Queen 
laboured  to  inspire  her  husband  with  a  tone 
more  resolved — in  vain  that  she  even  snatch- 
ed a  pistol  from  the  belt  of  the  Comptc  d' Af- 
fray, and  thrust  it  into  the  King's  hand, 
saying,  "  Now  is  the  moment  to  show 
yourself  as  you  are."  Indeed,  Barbarous, 
whose  testimony  can  scarce  be  doubted, 
declares  his  firm  opinion,  that  had  the  King 
at  this  time  mounted  his  horse,  and  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  National  Guards, 
they  would  have  followed  him,  and  succeed- 
ed in  putting  down  the  Revolution.  Histo- 
ry has  its  strong  parallels,  and  one  would 
think  we  are  writing  of  Margaret  of  An- 
jou,  endeavouring  in  vain  to  inspire  deter 
mination  into  her  virtuous  but  feeble-mind- 
ed husband. 

Within  the  palace,  the  disposition  of  the 
troops  seemed  excellent,  and  there,  as  well 
as  in  the  courts  of  the  Tuilleries,  the  King's 
address  was  answered  with  shouts  of  "  Vive 
le  Roi .'"  But  when  he  sallied  out  into  the 
garden,  his  reception  from  the  legions  of 
the  National  Guard  was  at  least  equivocal, 
and  tl  at  of  the  artillerymen,  and  of  a  battal- 
ion from  Saint  Margeau,  was  decidedly 
unfavourable.  Some  cried,  "  Vive  la  Na- 
tion!" Some,  "  Down  with  the  tyrant!" 
The  King  did  nothing  to  encourage  his  own 
adherents,  nr  to  crush  his  enemies,  but  re- 
tired to  hold  council  in  the  palace,  around 
which,  the  storm  was  fast  gathering. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  the  As- 
sembly, in  which  the  Constitutionalists  pos- 
sessed so  strong  a  majority  as  to  Ihrorv  out 
the  accusation  against  La  Fayette  by  a  tri- 
umphant vote,  mijht  now  in  the  hour  of 
dread  necessity,  have  made  some  effort  to 
save  the  crown  which  that  Constitution  re- 
cognized, and  the  innocent  life  of  the  prince 
by  whom  it  was  occupied.  But  fear  had 
la-d  strong  possession  upon  these  unworthy 
and  ungenerous  representatives.  The  min- 
isters of  the  King  appeared  at  the  bar,  and 
represented  the  slate  of  the  city  and  of  the 
palace,  conjuring  the  Assembly  to  send  a 
deputation  to  prevent  bloodshed.  This  was 
courageous  on  the  part  of  those  faithful  ser- 
vants ;  for  to  intim;ite  the  least  interest  in 
the  King's  fate,  was  like  the  bold  swimmer 
who  approaches  tiie  whirlpool  caused  by 
the  sinking  of  a  gillant  vessel.  The  meas- 
ure they  pro|jose(l  hid  been  resorted  to  on 
the  20th  June  preceding,  and  was  then  suc- 
cessful, oven  tliough  the  deputation  consist- 


Chap.  IX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


103 


ed  of  members  the  most  unfriendly  to  the 
King.  But  now,  the  Assembly  passed  to 
the  order  of  the  day,  and  thereby  left  the 
fate  of  the  King  and  capital  to  chance,  or 
the  result  of  battle. 

In  themean  time  the  palace  was  complete- 
ly invested.  The  bridge  adjacent  to  the 
Tuilleries,  called  the  Point  Royale,  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  insurgents,  and  the  Quai  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river  was  mounted 
with  cannon,  of  which  the  assailants  Iiad 
about  fifty  pieces,  served  by  the  i-.iost  de- 
termined Jacobins  ;  for  the  artillerymen 
had  from  the  beginning  embraced  the  pop- 
ular cause  with  unusual  energy. 

At  this  decisive  moment  Hoederer,  tlie 
Procureur-general  Syndic,  the  depositary 
and  organ  of  the  law,  who  had  already  com- 
manded the  Swiss  and  armed  Royalists  not 
to  make  any  otTensive  movement,  but  to 
defend  themselves  wheji  attacked,  began 
to  think,  apparently,  that  his  own  safety 
was  compromised,  by  this  implied  grant  of 
permission  to  use  arms  even  in  defence  of 
the  King's  person.  He  became  urgent  with 
the  King  to  retire  from  the  palace,  and  put 
himself  under  the  orotection  of  the  Na- 
tional Assembly.  The  Queen  felt  at  once 
all  the  imbecility  and  dislionour  of  throwing 
themselves  as  suppliants  on  the  protection 
■/)f  a  body,  which  had  notshowneven  ashad- 
ow  of  interest  in  their  safety,  surrounded  as 
they  knew  the  royal  family  to  be  with  the 
most  inveterate  enemies.  Ere  she  consented 
to  such  infamy,  she  said  she  would  willing- 
ly be  nailed  to  the  walls  of  the  palace.  But 
the  counsel  which  promised  to  avert  the 
necessity  of  bloodshed  on  either  part,  suited 
well  with  the  timorous  conscience  and  ir- 
resolution of  I. ouis.  Other  measures  were 
hastily  proposed  by  those  who  had  devoted 
themselves  to  secure  his  safety.  There  was, 
however,  no  real  alternative  but  to  fight  at 
the  head  of  his  guards,  or  to  submit  himself 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  Assembly,  and  Louis 
preferred  the  latter. 

His  wife,  his  sister,  and  his  children,  ac- 
companied him  on  this  occasion ,  and  the 
utmost  effort^  of  an  escort  of  tiiree  hundred 
Swiss  and  national  grenadiers  were  scarce 
able  to  protect  them,  and  a  small  retinue, 
consisting  of  the  ministers  and  a  few  men 
of  rank,  the  glenni!igs  of  the  most  brilliant 
court  of  Christendom,  who  accompanied 
their  master  in  this  last  act  of  humiliation, 
which  was  indeed  equal  to  a  voluntary  de- 
scent from  his  throne.  They  were,  at  ev- 
ery moment  of  their  progress,  interrupted 
by  the  deadliest  threats  and  imprecations, 
and  the  weapons  of  more  than  one  ruffian 
were  levelled  against  them.  The  Queen 
waa  robbed  even  of  her  watch  and  purse — 
BO  near  might  the  worst  criminals  approach 
the  persons  of  the  royal  fugitives.  Louis 
showed  the  greatest  composure  amidst  all 
these  imminent  dangers.  He  was  feeble 
when  called  upon  to  kill,  but  strong  in  res- 
olution when  the  question  was  only  to  die. 

The  King's  entrance  into  the  Assembly 
was  not  without  dignity.  '•  My  family  and 
I  are  come  among  you,"  he  said,  "  to  pre- 
vent the  commission  of  a  great  crime." 
Vergniaud,  who  was  president  at  the  time, 


answered  with  propriety,  though  ambign- 
ouely.  He  assured  the  King  that  the  As- 
sembly knew  its  duties,  and  was  ready  to 
perish  in  support  of  them.  \  member  of 
the  Mountain  observed,  with  bitter  irony. 
that  it  was  impossible  for  the  Assembly  to 
deliberate  freely  in  presence  of  the  mon- 
arch, and  proposed  that  he  should  retreat 
into  one  of  the  most  remote  committee 
rooms — a  place  where  assassination  must 
have  been  comparatively  easy.  The  As- 
sembly rejected  this  proposal,  alike  insult- 
ing and  insidious,  and  assigned  a  box,  or 
small  apartment,  called  the  Logographe, 
used  for  the  reporters  of  the  debates,  for 
the  place  of  refuge  of  this  unhappy  family. 
This  arrangement  wa.s  scarce  made,  ere  a 
heavy  discharge  of  musketry  and  cannon 
announced  that  the  King's  retreat  had  not 
prevented  the  bloodshed  he  so  greatly 
feared. 

It  must  be  supposed  to  nave  been  Louis's 
intention  that  his  guards  and  defenders 
should  draw  otT  from  the  Palace,  so  soon  as 
he  himself  had  abandoned  it ;  for  to  what 
purpose  was  it  now  to  be  defended,  when 
the  royal  family  were  no  longer  concerned  ? 
and  at  what  risk,  when  the  garrison  was  di- 
minished by  three  hundred  of  the  best  of 
the  troops,  selected  as  the  royal  escort? 
But  no  such  order  of  retreat,  or  of  non-re- 
sistance, had,  in  fact,  been  issued  to  the 
Swiss  guards,  and  the  military  discipline  of 
this  fine  corps  prevented  their  retiring  from 
an  assigned  post  without  command.  Cap- 
tain Duler  is  said  to  have  asked  the  Mares- 
chal  Mailly  for  orders,  and  to  have  receiv- 
ed for  answer,  "  Do  not  suffer  your  posts 
to  be  forced." — "  You  may  rely  on  it,"  re- 
plied the  intrepid  Swiss. 

Meantime,  to  give  no  unnecessary  prov- 
ocation as  well  as  on  account  of  their  di- 
minished numbers,  the  court  in  front  of  the 
palace  was  abandoned,  and  the  guards  were 
withdrawn  into  the  building  itself;  their 
outermost  sentinels  being  placed  at  the 
bottom  of  the  splendid  staircase,  to  defend 
a  sort  of  barricade  which  had  been  erected 
there,  ever  since  the  -0th  June,  to  prevent 
such  intrusions  as  distinguished  that  day. 

Tlife  insurgents,  with  the  Marseillois  and 
Breton  Federates  at  their  heads,  poured  into 
the  court-yard  without  opposition,  planted 
their  cannon  where  some  small  buildings 
gave  them  adi'.antage,  and  advanced  without 
hesitation  to  the  outposts  of  the  Swiss. 
They  had  already  tasted  blood  that  day, 
having  massacred  a  patrol  of  rcyalists,  who, 
unable  to  get  into  the  Tuilleries,  had  at- 
tempted to  assist  the  defence,  by  intermpt- 
ing,  or  at  least  watching  and  discovering, 
the  measures  adopted  by  the  insurgent*. 
These  men's  heads  were,  as  usual,  borne  on 
pikes  among  their  ranks. 

They  pushed  forward,  and  it  is  said  the 
Swiss  at  first  offered  demonstrations  of 
truce.  But  the  assailants  thronged  onward, 
crowded  on  the  barricade,  and  when  the 
parties  came  into  such  close  collision,  a 
struggle  ensued,  and  a  shot  was  fired.  It  ii 
doubtful  from  what  side  it  came,  nor  is  it 
of  much  consequence,  for  on  such  an  occa 
sion  that  body  must  be  held  the  aggressora 


104 


LIFE  OF  >'APOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chop.  IX. 


who  approach  the  pickets  of  the  other,  I  and  while  some  massacred  the  living,  oth- 
armed  and  prepared  for  assault;  and  al- (  ers,  and  pspecially  the  unsexed  women  who 
though  the  first  gun  be  fired  by  those  whose  ^  were  mingled  in  their  ranks,  committed  the 


position  is  endangered,  it  is  no  less  defen 
sive  than  if  discharged  in  reply  to  a  fire 
from  the  other  side. 

This  unhappy  shot  seems  to  have' dispel- 
led some  small  chance  of  a  reconciliation 
between  the  parties.  Hard  tiring  instantly 
commenced  from  the  Federates  and  Mar- 
seillois,  \\  hilst  the  palace  blazed  forth  fire 
from  every  window,  and  killed  a  j^eat  many 
of  the  assailants.  T!ie  Swiss,  whose  num- 
bers were  now  o.ily  about  seven  hundreJ 
men,  determined,  notwithstanding,  upon  a 
sally,  which,  in  the  beginninfr,  was  com- 
pletely successful.  They  drove  the  insur- 
gents from  the  court-yard,  killed  many  of 
the  Marseillois  and  Bretons,  took  some  of 
their  guns,  and  turning  them  along  the 
streets,  compelled  tlie  assailants  to  actual 
flight,  so  that  word  was  carrievl  to  the  Na- 
tional Assembly  that  the  Swiss  were  victo- 
rious. The  utmost  confusion  prevailed 
there  ;  the  deputies  upbraided  each  other 
with  thoir  share  in  bringing  about  the  insur- 
rection :  Brifcsot  showed  timidity  ;  and  sev- 
eral ot'  the  deputies  thinking  the  Guards 
were  hastening  to  massacre  them,  attempt- 
ed to  escape  by  the  windows  of  the  Hall. 
If,  indeed,  the  sally  of  the  Swiss  had 
been  supported  by  a  suificient  body  of  faith- 
ful cavalry,  the  Revolution  might  have 
been  that  day  ended.  But  the  Gens- 
d'armes,  the  only  horsemen  in  the  field, 
were  devoted  to  the  popular  cause,  and  the 
Swiss,  too  few  to  secure  their  advantage, 
were  obliged  to  return  to  the  palace,  where 
they  were  of  new  invested. 

Westerman  posted  his  forces  and  artillery 
with  much  intelligence,  and  continued  a 
fire  on  the  Tuilleries  from  all  points.  It 
was  now  returned  with  less  vivacity,  for 
the  ammunition  of  the  defenders  began  to 
fail.  At  this  moment  D'Hervilly  arrived 
from  the  Assembly,  with  the  King's  com- 
mands that  the  Swiss  should  cease  firing, 
evacuate  the  palace,  and  repair  to  the 
King's  person.  The  faithful  Guards  obey- 
ed at  once,  not  understanding  tl.at  the  ob- 
ject was  submission,  but  conceiving  they 
were  summoned  elsewhere,  to  fight  under 
the  King's  eye.  They  had  no  sooner  col- 
lected themselves  into  a  body,  and  attempt- 
ed to  cross  the  Garden  of  the  Tuilleries, 
than,  exposed  to  a  destructive  fire  on  all 
aides,  the  remains  of  that  noble  regiment, 
so  faithful  to  the  trust  assigned  to  it,  di- 
minished at  every  step;  until,  charged  re- 
peatedly by  the  treacherous  Gens-d'armes, 
who  ought  to  have  supported  them,  they 
were  separated  into  platoons,  which  con- 
tinued to  defend  themselves  with  courage, 
eTen  till  the  very  last  of  them  was  over- 
powered, dispersed,  and  destroyed  by  mul- 
titudes. A  better  defence  against  such 
fearful  odds  scarce  remains  on  historical 
record — a  more  useless  one  can  hardly  be 
imagined. 

The  rabble,  with  their  leaders  the  Fede- 
rates, now  burst  into  the  palace,  executing 
the  moat  barbarous  vengeance  on  the  few 
defenders  who  had  not  made  their  escape  ; 


most  shameful  butchery  on  the  corpses  of 
the  slain. 


Almost  every  species  of  enormity  waa 
perpetrated  upon  that  occasion  excepting 
pillage,  which  the  populace  would  not  per- 
mit, even  amid  every  other  atrocity.  There 
exist  in  the  coarsest  minds,  nay,  while  such 
are  engaged  in  most  abominable  wicked- 
ness, redeeming  traits  of  character,  which 
show  that  the  image  of  the  Deity  is  seldom 
totally  and  entirely  defaced  even  in  the 
rudest  bosoms.  An  ordinary  workman  of 
the  suburbs,  in  a  dress  which  implied  ab- 
ject poverty,  made  his  way  into  the  place 
where  the  royal  family  were  seated,  de- 
manding the  King  by  the  name  of  Monsieur 
Veto.  '■  So  you  are  here,"  he  said,  "beast 
of  a  Veto !  There  is  a  purse  of  gold  I 
found  in  your  honse  yonder.  If  you  had 
found  mine,  you  would  not  have  been  so 
honest."  There  were,  doubtless,  amongst 
that  dreadful  assemblage  many  thousands, 
whose  natural  honesty  would  have  made 
them  despise  pillage,  although  the  misrep- 
resentations by  whiqh  vhey  were  influenced 
to  fiiry  easily  led  them  to  rebellion  and 
murder. 

Band  after  band  of  these  fierce  men,  their 
faces  blackened  with  powder,  their  hand* 
and  weapons  streaming  with  blood,  came 
to  invoke  the  vengeance  of  the  Assembly 
on  the  head  of  the  King  and  royal  family, 
and  expressed  in  the  very  presence  of  the 
victims  whom  they  claimed,  their  expecta- 
tions and  commands  how  they  should  bo 
dealt  with. 

Vergniaud,  who,  rather  than  Brissot, 
ought  to  have  given  name  to  the  Girondists, 
took  the  lead  in  gratifying  the  wishes  of 
these  dreadful  petitioners.  He  moved,  1st, 
That  a  National  Convention  should  be  sum- 
moned. 2d,  That  the  King  should  be  sus- 
pended from  his  ofl[ice.  3d,  That  the  King 
should  reside  at  the  Luxembourg  palace 
under  safeguard  of  the  law, — a  word  which 
they  were  not  ashamed  to  use.  These  pro- 
posals were  unanimously  assented  to. 

An  almost  vain  attempt  was  made  to 
save  the  lives  of  that  remaining  detachment 
of  Swiss  which  had  formed  the  King's  es- 
cort to  the  Assembly,  and  to  whom  several 
of  the  scattered  Royalists  had  again  united 
themselves.  Their  officers  proposed,  as  a 
last  effort  of  despair,  to  make  themselves 
masters  of  the  Assembly,  and  declare  the 
deputies  hostages  for  the  Ring's  safety. 
Considering  the  smallness  of  their  numbers, 
such  an  attempt  could  only  have  produced 
additional  bloodshed,  which  would  have 
been  ascribed  doubtless  to  the  King'i 
treachery.  The  King  commanded  them  to 
resign  their  arms,  being  the  last  order  which 
he  issued  to  any  military  force.  He  wa» 
obeyed  ;  but,  as  they  were  instantly  attack- 
ed by  the  insurgents,  few  escaped  slaugh- 
ter, and  submission  preserved  but  a  handful. 
About  seven  hundred  and  fifty  fell  in  the 
defence,  and  after  the  storm  of  the  Tuille- 
ries. Some  few  were  saved  by  the  gener- 
ous exertions  of  individual  deputies — others 


Chap.  X.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


105 


were  sent  to  prison,  where  a  bloody  end 
awaited  them — the  greater  part  were  butch- 
ered by  the  rabble,  so  soon  as  they  saw 
them  without  arms.  The  mob  sought  for 
them  the  whole  night,  and  massacred  many 
porters  of  private  families,  who,  at  Pans, 
are  generally  termed  Swiss,  though  often 
aativea  of  other  countries. 


The  royal  family  were  at  length  permit 
ted  to  spend  the  night,  which,  it  may  be 
presumed,  was  sleepless,  in  the  cells  of  the 
neighbouring  convent  of  the  Feuillans. 

Thus  ended,  for  the  period  of  twenty 
years  and  upwards,  the  reign  of  the  Boiu- 
bons  over  their  ancient  realm  of  France. 


CHAP.  X. 


La  Fayette  compelled  to  Escape  from  France — Is  made  Prisoner  by  the  Prussians,  taitk 
three  Companions. — Reflections. —  The  Triumvirate,  Dav.ton,  Robespierre,  and  Ma- 
rat.— Revolutionary  Tribunal  appointed. — Stupor  of  the  Legislative  Assembly. — 
Longvry,  Stenay,  and  Verdun,  taken  by  the  Prussians — Mob  of  Paris  enraged. — 
Great  Massacre  of  Prisoners  in  Paris,  commencing  on  the  2d,  and  ending  dtk 
September. — Apathy  of  the  Assembly  during  and  after  these  Events — Review  of  its 
Causes. 


The  success  of  the  lOtli  of  .\ugust  had 
sufficiently  established  tht;  democratic  max- 
im, that  the  will  of  the  people,  expressed 
by  their  insurrection.s,  was  tlie  supreme 
law  ;  the  orators  of  the  clubs  its  interpret- 
ers ;  and  the  pikes  of  the  suburbs  its  exec- 
utive power.  The  lives  of  individuals  and 
their  fortunes  were  from  tliat  time  only  to 
be  regarded  as  leases  at  will,  subject  to  be 
revoked  so  soon  as  an  nrtful,  envious,  or 
grasping  demagogue  should  be  able  to  turn 
against  tlie  lawful  owners  the  readily-excit- 
ed suspicions  of  a  giddy  multitude,  whofti 
habit  and  impunity  had  rendered  ferocious. 
The  system  established  on  these  princi- 
ples, and  termed  liberty,  was  in  fact  <in  ab- 
solute despotism,  far  worse  than  that  of 
Algiers ;  because  the  tyrannic  I)ey  only 
executes  his  oppression  and  cruelties  with- 
in a  certain  sphere,  affecting  a  limited  num- 
ber of  his  subjects  who  approach  near  to 
his  throne  ;  while,  of  the  many  thousand 
leaders  of  the  Jacobins  of  France,  every 
one  had  his  peculiar  circle  in  which  he 
claimed  right,  as  full  as  that  of  Robespierre 
or  Marat,  to  avenge  former  slights  or  inju- 
ries, and  to  gratify  his  own  individual  appe- 
tite for  plunder  and  blood. 

All  the  departments  of  France,  without 
exception,  paid  the  most  unreserved  sub- 
mission to  the  decrees  of  the  Assembly,  or 
rather  to  those  which  the  Community  of 
Paris,  and  the  insurgents,  had  dictated  to 
that  legislative  body  ;  so  that  the  hour 
seemed  arrived  when  tiie  magistracy  of 
Paris,  supported  by  a  democratic  force, 
should,  in  the  name  and  through  tlio  inrlu- 
ence  of  the  Assembly,  impose  its  own  laws  i 
open  France.  ! 

La  Fayette  in  v.iin  endeavoured  to  ani-  ; 
mate  his  soldiers  against  this  new  species  i 
of    despotism.      The   Jacobins   had   Iheir 
friends    and    representatives   in   the    very 
trustiest   of  his   battalions.     He   made  ati 
effort,  however,  and  a  bold  one.    He  seized  I 
on  the  persons  of  thrc^e  deputies,  sent  to  | 
him  as  commissioners  by  the  Afsembly,  to 
compel  submission  to  their  decrees,   ami 
proposed  to  reserve  them  as  hostages  for 
the  King's  safety.     Several  of  his  own  gen- 
fifral  officers,  the  intrepid  Dessaix  amongst 
others,  seemed  willing  to  support  him.  Du- 
Vol.  L  £« 


mouriez,  however,  the  personal  enemy  of 
La  Fayette,  and  ambitious  of  being  his  suc- 
cessor in  the  supreme  command,  recogniz- 
ed the  decrees  of  the  Assembly  in  the  sep- 
arate army  which  he  commanded.  His 
example  drew  over  Luckner,  who  also 
commanded  an  independent  corps  d'arme'e, 
and  who  at  first  seemed  disposed  to  join 
witli  La  Fayette. 

That  unfortunate  General  was  at  length 
left  unsupported  by  any  considerable  part 
even  of  his  own  army ;  so  that  with  three 
friends,  whose  names  were  well  known  in 
the  Revolution,  he  was  fain  to  attempt  an 
escape  from  France,  and,  in  crossing  a  part 
of  the  enemy's  frontier,  they  were  made 
prisoners  by  a  party  of  Prussians. 

F'ugitives  from  their   own  camp  for  the 
sake  of  royalty,  they  might  have  expected 
refuge  in  that  of  the  allied  kings,  who  were 
in  arms  for  the  same  object ;  but  with  a 
littleness   of  spirit  which  argued  no  good 
for  their  cause,  the  allies  determined  that 
these    unfortunate    gentlemen    should  be 
consigned  as   state   prisoners   to  different 
fortresses.     This  conduct  on  the  part  of  the 
monarch:,  however  irritated  they  might  be 
by   the   recollection  of   some   part  of  La 
Fayette's  conduct  in  the  outset  of  the  Rev- 
olution,  V..1S  neither  to  be  vindicated  by 
morality,  the  law  of  nations,  nor  the  rules 
of  sound  policy.     We  are  no  approvers  of 
the  democratic  species  of  monarchy  which 
La  Fayette  endeavoured  to  establish,   and 
cannot  but  be  of  opinion,  that  if  he  had 
acted   upon   his  victory  in  the  Champ  de 
Mars,  he  might  have  shut  up  the  Jacobin 
Club,  and  saved  his  own  power  and  popu 
larity  from  being  juggled  out  of  his  hands 
by  those  sanguinary  charlatans.     But  errors 
of  judgment   must   be    pardoned    to  men 
placed  amidst  unheard-of  difficulties  ;   and 
La  Fayette's  conduct  on  his  visit  to  Paris, 
bore  testimony  to  his  real  willingness  to 
save  the   King  and  preserve  the  monarchy. 
But  even  if  he  had  been  amenable  for  a. 
crime  against  his  own  country,  we  knou 
not  what  right  Austria  or  Prussia   had  to 
take  cognizance  of  it.     To  them  he  waB  a 
mere  prisoner  of  war,  and  nothing  farther. 
Lastly,  it  is  very  seldom  that  a  petty  and 
vindictive  line  of  policy  can  consist  wills 


106 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  X. 


the  real  interest,  either  of  great  princes  or 
of  private  individuals.  In  the  present  case, 
the  arrest  of  La  Fayette  waa  peculiarly  the 
contrary.  It  afforded  a  plain  proof  to 
France  and  to  all  Europe,  that  the  allied 
monarchs  were  determined  to  regard  as  en- 
emies all  who  had  in  any  manner,  or  to  any 
extent,  favoured  the  Revolution,  being  in- 
deed the  whole  people  of  France,  except- 
ing the  emigrants  now  in  arms.  The  effect 
must  necessarily  have  been,  to  compel  ev- 
ery Frenchman,  who  was  desirous  of  en- 
joying more  liberty  than  the  ancient  des- 
potism permitted,  into  submission  to  the 
existing  government,  whatever  it  was,  so 
long  as  invading  armies  of  foreigners,  \yhose 
schemes  were  apparently  as  inconsistent 
with  the  welfare  as  with  the  independence 
of  the  country,  were  hanging  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  France. 

For  a  short  space,  like  hounds  over  the 
carcase  of  the  prey  they  have  jointly  run 
down,  the  Girondists  and  Jacobins  suspend- 
ed their  dissensions  ;  but  when  the  Consti- 
tutional party  had  ceased  to  show  all  signs 
of  existence,  their  brawl  soon  recommenc- 
ed, and  the  Girondists  early  discovered, 
that  in  the  allies  whom  they  had  cdled  on 
to  assist  them  in  the  subjugation  of  royalty, 
they  had  already  to  strive  with  men,  who, 
though  inferior'  to  them  in  speculative 
knowledge,  and  in  the  eloquence  which 
was  to  sway  the  Assembly,  possessed  in  a 
much  higher  degree  the  practical  energies 
by  which  revolutions  are  accomplished, 
wwe  in  complete  possession  of  the  com- 
munity (or  magistracy)  of  Paris,  and  main- 
tained despotic  authority  over  all  the  bands 
of  the  metropolis.  Three  men  of  terror, 
whose  names  will  long  remain,  we  trust, 
unmatched  in  history  by  those  of  any  simi- 
lar miscreants,  had  now  the  unrivalled 
leading  of  the  Jacobins,  and  were  called 
the  Triumvirate. 

Danton  deserves  to  be  named  first,  as  un- 
rivalled by  his  colleagues  in  talent  and  au- 
diacity.  He  was  a  man  of  gigantic  size,  and 
possessed  a  voice  of  thunder.  His  counte- 
nance waa  that  of  an  Ogre  on  the  shoulders 
of  a  Hercules.  He  was  as  fond  of  the 
pleasures  of  vice  as  of  the  practice  of  cruel- 
ty ;  and  it  was  said  there  were  times  when 
he  became  humanized  amidst  his  debauch- 
ery, laughed  at  the  terror  which  his  turious 
declamations  excited,  and  might  be  ap- 
proached with  safety,  like  the  Maelstrom 
at  the  turn  of  tide.  His  profusion  was  in- 
dulged to  an  extent  hazardous  to  his  popu- 
larity, for  the  populace  are  jealous  of  a  lav- 
ish expenditure,  as  raising  their  favourites 
too  much  above  their  own  degree  ;  and  the 
charge  of  speculation  finds  always  ready 
credit  with  them,  when  brought  against 
public  men. 

Rol>e8pierre  possessed  this  advantage 
over  Danton,  that  he  did  not  seem  to  seek 
for  wealth,  either  for  hoarding  or  expend- 
ing, but  lived  in  strict  and  ecoaoraical  re- 
tirement, to  justify  the  name  of  the  Incor- 
niptible,  with  which  he  was  honoured  by 
hit  partisans.  He  appears  to  have  possess- 
ed little  talent,  saving  a  deep  fund  of  hy- 
Doorisy,  considerable  powers  of  sophistry, 


and  a  cold  exaggerated  strain  of  oratory,  as 
foreign  to  good  t:iste,  as  the  measures  he 
recommended,  were  to  ordinary  humanity. 
It  seemed  wonderful,  that  even  the  seeth- 
ing and  boiling  of  the  revolutionary  caul- 
dron should  have  sent  up  from  the  bottom, 
and  long  supported  on  the  surface,  a  th^ng 
so  miserably  void  of  claims  to  public  dis- 
tinction 5  biit  llobespierre  had  to  impose  on 
tiic  minds  of  tlie  vulgar,  and  he  knew  how 
to  beguile  them,  by  accommodating  his  flat- 
tery to  their  passions  and  scale  of  under- 
standing, and  by  acts  of  cunning  and  hypoc- 
risy, which  weigli  more  with  the  multitude 
than  the  words  of  eloquence,  or  the  argu- 
ments of  wisdom.  The  people  listened  as. 
to  their  Cicero,  when  he  twanged  out  his 
apostrophes  of  Paui-re  Peuple,  Peuple  ver- 
lueux  !  and  hastened  to  execute  whatever 
came  recommended  by  such  honied  phras- 
es, though  devised  by  the  worst  of  men  for 
the  worst  and  most  inhuman  of  purposes. 

Vanity  was  Robespierre's  ruling  passion, 
and  though  his  countenance  was  the  image 
of  his  mind,  he  was  vain  even  of  his  per- 
sonal appearance,  and  never  adopted  the 
external  habits  of  a  sans  culotte.  Amongst 
his  fellow  Jacobins,  he  was  distinguished 
by  the  nicety  with  which  his  hair  was  ar- 
ranged and  powdered  ;  and  the  neatness  of 
his  dress  was  carefully  attended  to,  so  as  to 
counterbalance,  if  possible,  the  vulgarity 
of  liis  person.  His  apartments,  though 
small,  were  elegant,  and  vanity  had  filled 
tliem  with  representations  of  the  occupant. 
Robespierre's  picture  at  length  hung  in  one 
place,  his  miniature  in  another,  his  bust  oc- 
cupied a  niche,  and  on  the  table  were  dis- 
posed a  few  medallions  exhibiting  his  head 
in  profile.  The  vanity  which  all  this  indicat- 
ed was  of  the  coldest  and  most  selfish 
character,  being  such  as  considers  neglect 
as  insult,  and  receives  homage  merely  as  a 
tribute  ;  so  that,  while  praise  is  received 
without  gratitude,  it  is  withheld  at  the  risk 
of  mortal  hate.  Self-love  of  this  danger- 
ous character  is  closely  allied  with  envy, 
and  Robespierre  was  one  of  the  most  en- 
vious and  vindictive  men  that  ever  lived. 
He  never  was  known  to  pardon  any  oppo- 
sition, atTront,  or  even  rivalry ;  aiid  to  be 
marked  in  his  tablets  on  such  an  account 
was  a  sure,  though  perhaps  not  an  imme- 
diate, sentence  of  death.  Danton  was  a 
hero,  compared  with  this  cold,  calculating, 
creeping  miscreant ;  for  his  passions,  though 
exaggerated,  had  at  lca.st  some  touch  of  hu- 
manity, and  hj^  brutal  ferocity  was  support- 
ed by  brutal  courage.  Robespierre  was  a 
coward,  who  signed  death-warrants  with  a 
hand  that  shook,  though  his  heart  was  re- 
lentless. He  possessed  no  passions  on 
which  to  charge  his  crimes  j  they  were 
perpetrated  in  cold  blood,  and  upon  mature 
deliberation. 

Marat,  the  third  of  this  infernal  triumTi- 
rate,  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  low- 
er orders,  by  the  violence  of  his  sentimenta 
in  the  journal  which  he  conducted  from  the 
commencement  of  the  Revolution,  upon 
such  principles  that  it  took  the  lead  in  for- 
warding its  successive  changes.  His  po- 
litical exhortations  began  and  anded  lUw 


Chttp.X] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUON.\PARTE. 


107 


the  howl  of  a  blood-hound  for  murder ;  or, 
if  a  wolf  could  have  written  a  journal,  the 
gaunt  and  famished  wretch  could  not  have 
ravined  more  eagerly  for  slaughter.  It  was 
blood  which  was  Marat's  constant  demand, 
not  in  drops  from  the  breast  of  an  individ- 
ual, not  in  puny  streams  from  the  slaughter 
of  families,  but  blood  in  the  profusion  of  an 
ocean.  His  usual  calculation  of  the  heads 
which  he  demanded  amounted  to  two  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  ;  and  though  he 
sometimes  raised  it  as  high  as  three  hun- 
dred thousand,  it  never  fell  beneath  the 
smaller  number.  It  may  be  hoped,  and,  for 
the  honour  of  human  nature,  we  are  inclin- 
ed to  believe,  there  v\-as  a  touch  of  insanity 
in  this  unnatural  strain  of  ferocity  ;  and  the 
wild  and  squalid  features  of  the  wretch  ap- 
pear to  have  intimated  a  degree  of  aliena- 
tion of  mind.  Marat  was,  like  Robespierre, 
a  coward.  Repeatedly  denounced  in  the 
Assembly,  he  skulked  instead  of  defending' 
himself,  and  lay  concealed  in  some  obscure 
garret  or  cellar  among  his  cut-throats,  un- 
til a  storm  appeared,  when,  like  a  bird  of 
ill  omen,  his  death-screech  was  a<Tain  heard. 
>uch  was  the  strange  and  fatal  triumvirate, 
in  which  the  same  degree  of  cannibal  cru- 
elty existed  under  different  aspects.  Dan- 
ton  murdered  to  glut  his  rage;  Robespierre, 
to  avenge  his  injured  vanity,  or  to  remove 
a  rival  whom  he  envied ;  Marat,  from  the 
same  instinctive  love  of  blood,  which  indu- 
ces a  wolf  to  continue  his  ravage  of  the 
flocks  long  after  his  hunger  is  appeased. 

These  three  men  were  in  complete  pos- 
session of  the  Community  of  Paris,  which 
was  filled  with  their  adherents  exclusively, 
and  which,  now  in  command  of  the  armed 
force  that  had  achieved  the  victory  of  the 
10th  of  August,  held  the  .\ssembly  as  abso- 
lutely under  their  control,  as  the  .\sscmbly, 
prior  to  that  period,  had  hold  the  person  of 
the  King.  It  is  true,  Pethion  was  still 
Mayor  of  Paris  ;  but.  bei<ig  considered  as  a 
follower  of  Roland  and  Brissot,  he  was  re- 
garded by  the,  Jacobins  as  a  prisoner,  and 
detained  in  a  sort  of  honourable  restraint, 
having  a  body  of  their  most  faithful  adher- 
ents constantly  around  him,  as  a  guard 
which  they  pretended  was  assigned  for  his 
defence  and  protection.  The  truth  is,  that 
Pethion,  a  vain  man,  and  of  very  moderate 
talents,  had  already  lost  his  consequence. 
His  temporary  popularity  arose  almost  sole- 
ly out  of  the  enmity  entertained  against 
him  by  the  court,  and  his  having  braved  on 
one  or  two  occasions  the  King's  personal 
displeasure,  particuhrly  on  the  20th  of 
June.  This  merit  was  now  for:jf>tten,  and 
Pethion  was  fast  sinking  into  his  natural  nul- 
lity. Nothing  could  be  more  pitiful  than 
the  appearance  of  this  magistrate,  whose 
name  had  been  so  lately  the  theme  of  every 
tongue  in  Paris,  when  brought  to  the  bar  of 
the  Assembly,  pale,  and  hesitating  to  back, 
by  his  appearance  among  his  terrible  revo- 
lutionary associates,  petitions  for  measures, 
'«8  distasteful  to  himself  as  to  his  friends  of 
the  Gironde  party,  who  had  apparcntlv  no 
power  to  deliver  him  from  his  state  of  hu- 
miliating restraint. 

The  demands  of  the  Copunuaity  of  Pa- 


ris, now  the  Sanhedrim  of  the  Jacobins. 
were  of  course  for  blood  and  vengeance, 
and  revolutionary  tribunals  to  make  short 
and  sharp  execution  upon  constitutionalist 
and  royalist,  soldier  and  priest — upon  all 
who  acted  on  the  principle,  that  the  King 
had  some  right  to  defend  his  person  and 
residence  against  a  furious  mob,  armed  with 
muskets  and  cannon — and  upon  all  who 
could,  by  any  possible  implication,  be 
charged  with  having  approved  such  doc- 
trines as  leaned  towards  monarchy,  at  any 
time  during  all  the  changes  of  this  change- 
ful featured  Revolution. 

.\  revolutionary  tribunal  was  appointed 
accordingly  ;  but  the  Girondists,  to  impose 
some  check  on  its  measures,  rendered  the 
judgment  of  a  jury  necessary  for  condem- 
nation, an  encumbrance  which  seemed  to 
the  Jacobins  a  needless  and  uncivic  restric- 
tion of  the  rights  of  the  people,  Robes- 
pierre was  to  have  been  appointed  Presi- 
dent of  this  tribunal,  but  he  declined  the 
office  on  account  of  his  philanthropic  prin- 
ciples !  Meantime,  the  sharpness  of  its 
proceedings  was  sufficiently  assured  by  the 
nomination  of  Danton  to  the  office  of  Min- 
ister of  Justice,  which  had  fallen  to  his  lot 
as  a  Jacobin,  while  Roland,  Servaii,  and 
Claviere,  alike  fearing  and  detesting  their 
dreadful  colleague,  assumed,  with  Monge 
and  Lebrun,  the  other  offices,  in  what  was 
now  called  a  Provisionary  Executive.  These 
last  five  ministers  were  Girondists. 

It  was  not  the  serious  intention  of  the 
Assembly  to  replace  Louis  in  a  palace,  or 
to  suffer  him  to  retain  the  smallest  portion 
of  personal  freedom  or  political  influence. 
It  had,  indeed,  been  decreed  on  the  night 
of  the  iOth  of  .\ugust,  that  he  should  inhabit 
the  Luxembourg  palace,  but,  on  the  11th, 
his  residence  was  transferred,  with  that  of 
the  royal  family,  to  an  ancient  fortress  call- 
ed the  Temple,  from  the  Knights  Templars, 
to  whom  it  once  belonged.  There  was  in 
front  a  house,  with  some  more  moderate 
apartments,  but  the  dwelling  of  Louis  was 
the  donjon  or  ancient  keep,  itself  a  huge 
square  tower  of  great  antiquity,  consisting 
of  four  stories.  Each  story  contained  two 
or  three  rooms  or  closets  ;  but  these  apart- 
ments were  unfernished,  and  offered  no 
convenience  for  the  accommodation  of  an 
ordina:y  farp.ily,  much  less  to  prisoners  of 
such  distinction.  Tlie  royal  family  were 
guarded  with  a  strictness,  of  which  every 
d,ay  increased  the  rigour. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the' revolutionary  tri- 
bunal was  proceeding  against  the  friends 
and  partisans  of  the  deposed  monarch  with 
no  lack,  one  would  have  thought,  of  zeal  or 
animosity.  De  la  Porte,  intendant  of  the 
King's  civil  list,  D'Augremont,  and  Durosoi, 
a  royalist  author,  were  with  others  con- 
demned and  executed.  But  Montmorin, 
the  brother  of  the  royal  minister,  was  ac- 
quitted ;  and  even  the  Comte  d' Affray, 
though  Colonel  of  the  Swiss  guards,  found 
grace  in  the  eyes  of  this  tribunal ; — so  len- 
ient it  was  in  comparison  to  those  which 
France  was  afterwards  doomed  to  groan  un- 
der. Danton,  balked  of  his  prey,  or  but 
half-supplied  with  victims,  miffht  be  coxstf. 


108 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.X. 


pared  to  the  spectre-huntsman  of  Boccac- 
cio,— 

'  Aern  look'd  the  fiend,  as  frustrate  of  his  will, 
Mot  half  suffic'd,  and  greedy  yet  to  kill." 

But  he  had  already  devised  within  his  soul, 
and  agitated  amongst  his  compeers,  a 
scheme  of  vengeance  so  dark  and  dreadful, 
as  never  I'uiBan  before  or  since  had  head 
to  contrive,  or  nerve  to  execute.  It  was  a 
measure  of  extermination  which  the  Jaco- 
bins had  resolved  upon — a  measure  so  sweep- 
ing in  its  purpose  and  extent  that  it  should 
at  once  drown  in  their  own  blood  every 
Royalist  or  Constitutionalist  who  could 
raise  a  finger,  or  even  entertain  a  thought 
against  them. 

Three  things  were  indispensably  essen- 
tial to  their  execrable  plan.  In  the  first 
place,  they  had  to  collect  and  place  within 
reach  of  their  assassins,  the  numerous  vic- 
tims whom  they  sought  to  overwhelm  with 
this  common  destruction.  Secondly,  it 
was  necessary  to  intimidate  the  Assembly, 
and  the  Girondist  party  in  particular  ;  sens- 
ible that  they  were  likely  to  interfere,  if  it 
was  left  in  their  power,  to  prevent  acts  of 
cruelty  incompatible  with  the  principles  of 
most  or  all  of  their  number.  Lastly,  the 
Jacobin  chiefs  were  aware,  that  ere  they 
could  prepare  the  public  mind  to  endure 
the  massacres  which  they  meditated,  it  was 
necessary  they  should  wait  for  one  of  those 
critical  moments  of  general  alarm,  in  which 
fear  makes  the  multitude  cruel,  and  when 
the  agitations  of  rage  and  terror  combine  to 
unsettle  men's  reason,  and  drown  at  once 
their  humanity  and  their  understanding. 

To  collect  prisoners  in  any  numbers  was 
an  easy  matter,  when  the  mere  naming  a 
man,  however  innocent,  as  an  aristocrat  or 
a  suspected  person,  especially  if  he  happen- 
ed to  have  a  name  indicative  of  gentle 
blood,  and  an  air  of  decency  in  apparel,  was 
sufficient  ground  for  sending  him  to  prison. 
For  the  purpose  of  making  such  arrests  up- 
on suspicion,  the  Community  of  Paris  open- 
ly took  upon  themselves  the  office  of  grant- 
ing warrants  for  imprisoning  individuals  in 
neat  numbers,  and  at  length  proceeded  so 
far  in  their  violent  and  arbitrary  conduct, 
as  to  excite  the  jealousy  of  the  Legislative 
Body. 

This  Assembly  of  National  Representa- 
tives seemed  to  have  been  stunned  by  the 
events  of  the  10th  of  August.  Two-thirds 
of  the  deputies  had  a  few  days  before  ex- 
culpated I, a  Fayette  for  the  zeal  with  which 
he  impeached  the  unsuccessful  attempt  of 
tiie  20th  June,  designed  to  accomplish  the 
Msie  purpose  which  had  been  effected  on 
this  last  dread  epoch  of  the  Ptevolution. 
The  same  number,  we  must  suppose,  were 
inimical  to  the  revolution  achieved  by  the 
taking  of  the  Tuilleries  and  the  detlirone- 
ment  of  the  monarch,  whom  it  had  been 
La  Fayette's  object  to  protect  and  defend, 
is  dignity  and  person.  But  there  was  no 
eaergr  left  in  that  portion  of  the  Assembly, 
though  by  far  the  largest,  and  the  wisest. 
Their  benches  were  left  deserted,  nor  did 
$RY  voice  arise,  either  to  sustain  their  own 


dignity,  or,  as  a  last  resource,  to  advise  a 
union  with  the  Girondists,  now  the  leading 
force  in  the  Representative  Body,  for  the 
purpose  of  putting  a  period  to  the  rule  of 
revolutionary  terror  over  that  of  civil  order. 
The  Girondists  themselves  proposed  no  de- 
cisive measures,  and  indeed  appear  to  have 
been  the  most  helpless  party,  (though  pos- 
sessing in  their  ranks  very  considerable 
talent,)  that  ever  attempted  to  act  a 
great  part  in  the  convulsions  of  a  state. 
They  seem  to  have  expected,  that,  so  soon 
as  they  had  accomplished  the  overthrow  of 
the  throne,  their  own  supremacy  should 
have  been  established  in  its  room.  They 
became,  therefore,  liable  to  the  disappoint- 
ment of  a  child,  who,  having  built  his  house 
of  boughs  after  his  own  fashion,  is  astonish* 
ed  to  find  those  bigger  and  stronger  than 
himself  throw  its  materials  out  of  their 
way,  instead  of  attempting,  according  to  hia 
expectations,  to  creep  into  it  for  the  pur- 
pose of  shelter. 

Late  and  timidly,  they  at  length  began  to 
remonstrate  against  the  usurped  power  of 
the  Community  of  Paris,  who  paid  them  aa 
little  regard,  as  they  were  themselves  do- 
ing to  the  constituted  authorities  of  the  Ex- 
ecutive Power. 

The  complaints  which  were  laid  before 
them  of  the  violent  encroachments  made 
on  the  liberty  of  the  people  at  large,  the 
Girondists  had  hitherto  answered  by  timid 
exhortations  to  the  Community  to  be  cau- 
tious in  their  proceedings.  But  on  the  29th 
of  August  they  were  stirtled  out  of  their 
weak  inaction,  by  an  assumption  of  open 
force,  and  open  villainy,  on  the  part  of 
those  formidable  rivals,  under  which  it  waa 
impossible  to  remain  silent.  On  the  night 
previous,  the  Community,  proceeding  to 
act  upon  their  own  sole  authority,  had  sent 
their  satellites,  consisting  of  the  mnnicipal 
officers  who  were  exclusively  attached  to 
them,  (who  were  selected  from  the  most 
determined  Jacobins,  and  had  heen  aug- 
mented to  an  extraordinary  number,)  to 
seize  arms  of  every  description,  and  to  ar- 
rest suspicious  persons  in  every  corner  of 
Paris.  Hundreds  and  thousands  of  indi- 
viduals had  been,  under  these  usurped 
po^vcrs,  committed  to  the  various  prisons 
of  the  city,  which  were  now  filled  even  to 
choking,  with  all  persons  of  every  sex  and 
age,  against  whom  political  hatred  could  al- 
lege suspicion,  or  ])rivate  hatred  revive  an 
old  quarrel,  or  love  of  plunder  awake  a 
thirst  for  confiscation. 

The  deeds  of  robbery,  of  license,  and  of 
ferocity,  committed  during  these  illegal 
proceedings,  as  well  as  the  barefaced  con- 
tempt which  they  indicated  of  the  authority 
of  the  Assembly,  awakened  the  Girondista, 
but  too  late,  to  some  sense  of  the  necessity 
of  exertion.  They  summoned  the  munici> 
pality  to  their  bar.  They  came,  not  to  de- 
precate the  displeasure  of  the  Assembly, 
not  to  submit  themselves  to  its  mercy, — 
they  came  to  triumph  ;  and  brought  the 
speechless  and  trembling  Pethion  in  their 
train,  as  their  captive,  rather  than  their 
mayor.  Tallien  explained  the  defence  of 
tlie  Community,  which  amounted  t»  thM  i 


Chap.  X.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


109 


"  The  provisional  representatives  of  the 
city  of  Paris,"  he  said,  "  had  been  calum- 
niated ;  they  appeared,  to  justify  vw^hat  they 
had  done,  not  as  accused  persons,  but  as 
triumphing  in  having  disciiarged  their  duty. 
The  Sovereign  People,"  he  said,  "  had  com- 
mittod  to  them  full  powers,  saying.  Go 
forth,  save  the  country  in  our  name — what- 
ever you  do  we  will  j atify."  This  language 
was,  in  effect,  that  of  defiance,  and  it  was 
supported  by  the  shouts  and  howls  of  as- 
Bembl«d  multitudes,  armed  as  for  the  attack 
on  the  Tuilleries,  and  their  courage,  it  may 
be  imagined,  not  the  less,  that  there  were 
neither  aristocrats  nor  Swiss  guards  be- 
tween them  and  the  Legislative  Assembly. 
Their  cries  were,  •'  Long  live  our  Commu- 
nity—our excellent  commissioners — we  will 
defend  them  or  die  !" 

The  satellites  of  the  same  party,  in  the 
tribunes  or  galleries,  joined  in  the  cry,  with 
invectives  on  those  members  of  the  As- 
sembly who  were  supposed,  however  re- 
publican in  principles,  to  be  opposed  to  the 
revolutionary  measures  of  the  Community. 
The  mob  without  soon  forced  their  way  in- 
to the  Hall, — joined  with  the  mob  within, — 
and  left  the  theoreti(ml  republicans  of  the 
Aesembly  the  choice  of  acquiescence  iu 
their  dictates,  flight,  or  the  liberty  of  dying 
on  their  posts  like  the  senators  of  that  Rome 
which  they  admired.  None  embraced  this 
last  alternative.  They  broke  up  the  meet- 
ing in  confusion,  and  left  the  Jacobins  se- 
cure of  impunity  in  whatever  they  might 
next  choose  to  attempt. 

Thus,  Danton  and  his  fell  associates 
achieved  the  second  point  necessary  to  tlie 
execution  of  the  horrors  which  they  medi- 
tated ;  the  Legislative  Assembly  were  com- 
pletely subdued  and  intimidated.  It  re- 
mained to  avail  themselves  of  some  oppor- 
tunity which  might  e.xcite  the  people  of 
Paris,  in  their  present  feverish  state,  to  par- 
ticipate in,  or  to  endure  crimes,  at  which  in 
calm  moments  the  rudest  would  probably 
have  shuddered.  The  state  of  affairs  on  the 
frontier  aided  them  with  such  an  opportu- 
nity— aided  them,  we  say,  because  every 
step  of  preparation  beforehand,  shows  that 
the  horrors  acted  on  the  3d  September  were 
premeditated  ;  nay,  the  very  trenches  des- 
tined to  inhume  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
prisoners,  yet  alive,  untried  and  undoonied, 
were  already  excavated. 

Temporary  success  of  the  allied  mou- 
archs  fell  upon  the  mine  already  prep.ired, 
and  gave  fire  to  it,  as  lightning  might  have 
fired  a  powder  magazine.  Longwy,  Stenay, 
and  Verdun,  were  announced  to  have  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  The 
first  and  last  were  barrier  fortresses  of  re- 
puted strength,  and  considerable  resistance 
had  been  expected.  The  ardent  and  mili- 
tary spirit  of  the  French  was  awakened  in 
the  resolute,  upon  learning  that  tlieir  fron- 
tier was  thus  invaded  ;  fear  and  discomfit- 
ure took  possession  of  others,  who  tliouglit 
they  already  heard  the  allied  trumpets  at 
the  gates  of  Paris.  Between  the  eager  de- 
■ire  of  some  to  march  against  the  army  of 
the  invaders,  and  the  terror  and  di.''may  of 
•thers,  there  arose  a  climax  of  excitation 


and  alarm,  favourable  to  the  execution  of 
every  desperate  design  ;  as  ruffians  ply 
their  trade  best,  and  with  least  chance  of 
interruption,  in  the  midst  of  an  earthquake 
or  a  conflagration. 

On  the  2d  September,  the  Community 
of  Paris  announced  the  fall  of  Longwy,  and 
the  approaching  fate  of  Verdun,  and,  as  if 
it  had  been  the  only  constituted  authority 
in  the  country,  commanded  the  most  sum- 
mary measures  for  the  general  defencfe. 
All  citizens  were  ordered  to  keep  them- 
selves in  readiness  to  march  on  an  instant's 
warning.  All  arms  were  to  be  given  up  to 
the  Community,  save  those  in  the  hands  of 
active  citizens,  armed  for  the  public  pro- 
tection. Suspected  persons  were  to  be 
disarmed,  and  other  measures  were  an- 
nounced, all  of  which  were  calculated  to 
call  men's  attention  to  the  safety  of  them- 
selves and  their  families,  and  to  destroy 
the  interest  which  at  ordinary  times  the 
public  would  have  taken  in  the  fate  of 
others. 

'i'he  awful  voice  of  Danton  astounded  the 
Assembly  with  similar  information,  hardly 
deigning  to  ask  their  approbation  of  the 
measures  wliich  the  Community  of  Paris 
had  adopted  on  their  own  sole  authority. 
'■  You  will  presently  hear,"  he  said,  "  tlie 
alarm-guns — falsely  so  called — for  they  are 
the  signal  of  a  charge.  Courage — courage — 
and  once  again  courage,  is  all  that  is  ne- 
cessary to  conquer  our  enemies."  These 
words,  pronounced  with  the  accent  ajid  at- 
titude of  an  exterminating  spirit,  appalled 
and  fHupilied  the  Assembly.  We  find 
nothing  that  indicated  in  tliem  either  in- 
terest in  the  imminent  danger  of  the  pub- 
lie  from  without,  or  in  the  usurpation  from 
witliin.  They  appeared  paralyzed  with 
terror. 

The  armed  bands  of  Paris  marched  is 
different  quarters,  to  seize  arms  and  horses, 
to  discover  antl  denounce  suspected  per- 
sons ;  the  youth  tit  for  arms  were  every- 
where mustered,  and  amid  shouts,  remon- 
strances, and  debates,  the  general  attention 
was  so  engaged,  each  individual  with  h'xr 
own  afi'airs,  in  his  own  quarter,  that,  with- 
out interference  of  any  kind,  whetlier  from 
legal  authority,  or  general  sympathy,  an 
univer.'ial  massacre  of  the  numerous  pris- 
oners was  perpetrated,  with  a  quietness  and 
deliberation,  which  iias  not  its  parallel  in 
hi.story.  The  reader,  who  may  be  still  sur- 
prised that  a  transaction  so  horrid  should 
have  passed  witijout  opposition  or  inter- 
ruption, must  be  again  reminded  of  the  as- 
tounding effects  of  the  popular  victory  of 
the  10th  of  August ;  of  the  total  quiescence 
of  the  Legislative  Assembly ;  of  the  want 
of  an  armed  force  of  any  kind  to  oppose 
such  outrages  ;  and  of  the  epidemic  panic 
which  renders  multitudes  powerless  and 
pa^■.sivc  as  infants.  Should  these  causes 
not  appear  to  hiia  sufficient,  he  must  be 
contented  to  wonder  at  the  facts  we  arc  to 
relate,  as  at  one  of  those  dreadful  prodigies 
by  which  Providence  confounds  our  rea- 
son, and  shows  what  human  nature  can  bo 
brought  to,  when  the  restraints  of  moralitf 
and  religion  are  cast  aside. 


no 


UFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  X 


The  number  of  individuals  accumulated 
in  the  various  prisons  of  Paris,  had  increas- 
ed by  the  arrests  and  domiciliary  visits 
subsequent  to  the  10th  of  August,  to  about 
eight  thousand  persons.  It  was  the  object 
of  this  infernal  scheme  to  destroy  the  great- 
er part  of  these  under  one  general  system 
of  murder,  not  to  be  executed  by  the  sud- 
den and  furious  impulse  of  an  armed  mul- 
titude, but  with  a  certain  degree  of  cold 
blood  and  deliberate  investigation.  A  force 
of  armed  banditti,  Marseillois  partly,  and 
partly  chosen  ruffians  of  the  Fauxbourgs, 
proceeded  to  the  several  prisons,  into 
which  they  either  forced  their  passage,  or 
were  admitted  by  the  jailors,  most  of  whom 
had  j^been  apprised  of  what  was  to  take 
place,  though  some  even  of  these  steeled 
officials  exerted  themselves  to  save  those 
under  their  charge.  A  revolutionary  tri- 
bunal was  formed  from  among  the  armed 
ruffians  themselves,  who  examined  the  re- 
gisters of  the  prison,  and  summoned  the 
captives  individually  to  undergo  the  form 
of  a  trial.  If  the  judges,  as  was  almost  al- 
ways the  case,  declared  for  death,  their 
doom,  to  prevent  the  efforts  of  men  in  de- 
spair, was  expressed  in  the  words,  "  Give 
the  prisoner  freedom."  The  victim  was 
then  thrust  out  into  the  street,  or  yard ;  he 
was  despatched  by  men  and  women,  who, 
with  sleeves  tucked  up,  arms  dyed  elbow- 
deep  in  blood,  hands  holding  axes,  pikes, 
and  sabres,  were  executioners  of  the  s5n- 
tence  ;  and,  by  the  manner  in  which  they 
did  their  office  on  the  living,  and  mangled 
the  bodies  of  the  dead,  showed  that  they 
occupied  their  post  as  much  from  pleasure  as 
from  love  of  hire.  They  often  exchanged 
places ;  the  judges  going  out  to  take  the 
executioners'  duty,  the  executioners,  with 
their  reeking  hands,  sitting  as  judges  in 
their  turn.  Maillard,  a  ruffian  alleged  to 
have  distinguished  himself  at  the  siege  of 
the  Bastille,  but  better  known  by  his  ex- 
ploits upon  the  march  to  Versailles,*  pre- 
sided during  these  brief  and  sanguinary  in- 
vestigations. His  companions  on  the  bench 
were  persons  of  the  same  stamp.  Yet 
there  were  occasions  when  tliey  showed 
some  transient  gleams  of  humanity,  and  it 
is  not  unimportant  to  remark,  that  boldness 
had  more  influence  on  them  than  any  ap- 
peal to  mercy  or  compassion.  An  avowed 
Royalist  was  occasionally  dismissed  unin- 
jured, while  the  Constitutionalists  were 
sure  to  be  massacred.  Another  trait  of  a 
singular  nature  is,  that  two  of  the  ruffians 
who  were  appointed  to  guard  one  of  these 
intended  victims  home  in  safety,  as  a  man 
acquitted,  insisted  upon  seeing  his  meeting 
with  his  family,  seemed  to  share  in  the 
transports  of  the  moment,  and  on  taking 
leave,  ghook  the  hand  of  their  late  prisoner, 
while  their  own  were  clotted  with  the  gore 
of  his  friends,  and  had  been  just  raised  to 
shed  his  own.  Few,  indeed,  and  brief,  were 
, these  symptoms  of  relenting.  In  general, 
the  doom  of  the  prisoner  was  death,  and 
that  doom  was  instantly  accomplished. 

In  the   meanwhile,   the   captives    were 

*  Page  63. 


penned  up  in  their  dungeons  like  cattle  in 
a  shambles,  and  in  many  i(istances  might, 
from  windows  which  looked  outwards,  mark 
the  fate  of  their  comrades,  hear  their  cries, 
and  behold  their  struggles,  and  learn  from 
the  horrible  scene,  now  tlicy  might  best 
meet  their  own  approaching  fate.  They 
observed,  according  to  Saint  Meard,  who, 
in  his  well  named  Agony  of  Thirty-Six 
Hours,  has  given  the  account  of  this  fearful 
scene,  that  those  who  intercepted  the 
blows  of  the  executioners,  by  holding  up 
their  hands,  suffered  protracted  torment, 
while  those  who  otfered  no  show  of  strug- 
gle were  more  easily  despatched  ;  and  they 
encouraged  each  other  to  submit  to  their 
fate,  in  the  manner  least  likely  to  prolong 
their  sufferings. 

Many  ladies,  especially  those  belonging 
to  the  court,  were  thus  murdered.  The 
Princess  de  Lamtalle,  whose  Only  crime 
seems  to  have  been  her  friendship  for  Ma- 
rie Antoinette,  was  literally  hewn  to  pieces, 
and  her  head,  and  th^t  of  others,  paraded 
on  pikes  through  the  metropolis.  It  was 
carried  to  the  Temple  on  that  accursed 
weapon,  the  features  yet  beautiful  in  death, 
and  the  long  fair  curl:?  of  the  hair  floating 
around  the  spear.  The  murderers  insisted 
that  the  King  and  Queen  should  be  com- 
pelled to  come  to  the  window  to  view  this 
dreadful  trophy.  The  municipal  officers 
who  were  upon  d.ity  over  the  royal  prison- 
ers, had  difficulty,  not  merely  in  saving 
them  from  this  horrible  inhumanity,  but 
also  in  preventing  the  prison  t'rom  being 
forced.  Three-coloured  ribbons  were  ex- 
tended across  the  street,  and  tliis  frail  bar- 
rier was  found  sufficient  to  intimate  that 
tlie  Temple  was  under  the  safeguard  of  the 
nation.  We  do  not  read  that  the  efficiencT 
of  the  three-coloured  ribbons  was  tried  for 
the  protection  of  any  of  the  other  prisons 
No  doubt  the  executioners  had  their  in- 
structions where  and  when  they  should  b« 
respected. 

The  Clergy  who  had  declined  the  Con- 
stitutional oath  from  pious  scruples,  were, 
during  the  massacre,  the  peculiar  objects 
of  insult  and  cruelty,  and  their  conduct  was 
such  as  corresponded  with  their  religious 
and  conscientious  professions.  They  were 
seen  confessing  themselves  to  each  other, 
or  receiving  the  confessions  of  their  lay 
companions  in  misfortune,  and  encouraging 
thcan  to  undergo  the  evil  hour,  with  as 
much  calmness  as  if  they  themselves  had 
not  been  to  share  its  bitterness..  As  Pro- 
testants, we  cannot  abstractedly  approve 
of  the  doctrines  which  render  the  establish* 
ed  clergy  of  one  Country  dependant  upon  a 
Sovereign  Pontiff,  the  princs  of  an  alien 
state.  But  these  priests  did  not  make  the 
laws  for  which  they  suffered ;  they  only 
obeyed  them  ;  and  as  men  and  Christians 
we  must  regard  them  as  martyrs,  who  pre- 
ferred death  to  what  they  considered  as 
apostasy. 

In  the  brief  intervals  of  this  dreadAil 
butchery,  which  lasted  for  four  days,  the 
judges  and  executioners  ate,  drank,  and 
slept ;  and  awoke  from  slumber,  or  rose 
from  their  meal  with  fresh  appetite  for  m«u. 


Chap.  X.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


Ill 


der.  There  were  places  arranged  for  the 
male,  and  for  the  female  murderers,  for  the 
work  had  been  incomplete  without  the  in- 
tervention of  the  latter.  Prison  after  pris- 
on was  invested,  entered,  and  under  the 
eame  form  of  proceeding,  made  the  scene 
of  the  same  inhuman  butchery.  The  Jac- 
obins had  reckoned  on  making  the  massa- 
cre universal  ovr  France.  But  the  exam- 
ple was  not  generally  followed.  It  requir- 
ed, as  in  the  case  of  Saint  Bartholomew, 
the  only  massacre  which  can  be  compared 
to  this  in  atrocity,  the  excitation  of  a  large 
capital,  in  a  violent  crisis,  to  render  such 
horrors  possible. 

The  Community  of  Paris  were  not  in 
fault  for  this.  They  did  all  they  could  to 
extend  the  sphere  of  murder.  Their  war- 
rant brought  from  Orleans  near  sixty  per- 
sons, including  the  Dake  de  Cosse-Brissac, 
De  Lessart  the  late  minister,  and  other 
Royalists  of  distinction,  who  were  to  have 
been  tried  beiore  the'  High  Court  of  that 
Department.  A  band  of  assassins  met  them, 
by  appointment  of  the  Community  at  Ver- 
sailles, who,  uniting  with  their  escort,  mur- 
dered almost  the  whole  of  these  unhappy 
men. 

From  the  2d  to  the  6th  of  September, 
these  infernal  crimes  proceeded  unijiter- 
rupted,  protracted  by  the  actors  for  the 
sake  of  the  daily  pay  of  a  louis  to  each, 
openly  distributed  amongst  them,  by  order 
of  the  Commune.*  It  was  either  from  a 
desire  to  continue  as  long  as  possible  a  la- 
bour so  well  requited,  or  because  thcs>j  be- 
ings had  acquired  an  insatiable  lust  of  mur- 
der, that,  when  the  jails  were  emptied  of 
state  criminals,  the  assassins  attacked  the 
Bicetre,  a  prison  where  ordinary  delinquents 
were  confined.  These  unhappy  wretches 
offered  a  degree  of  resistance  which  cost 
the  assailants  more  dear  than  any  they  had 
experienced  from  their  proper  victims. 
Tney  were  obliged  to  fire  on  them  with 
cannon,  and  many  hundreds  of  the  misera- 
ble creatures  were  in  this  way  exterminat- 
ed, by  wretches  worse  than  themselves. 

No  exact  account  was  ever  made  of  the 
number  of  persons  murdered  daring  this 
dreadful  period ;  but  not  above  t>vo  or 
three  hundred  of  the  prisoners  arrested  for 
state  offences  were  known  to  escape,  or  be 
discharged,  and  the  most  moderate  compu- 
tation raises  the  number  of  those  who  loll 
to  two  or  three  thou.sand,  thousrh  some  car- 
ry it  to  twice  the  extent.  Truchod  an- 
nounced to  the  Legislative  Assembly,  that 
'bur  thousand  had  perished.  Soms;  exer- 
tion was  made  to  save  the  lives  of  persons 
imprisoned  for  debt,  whose  numbers,  with 
those  of  common  felons,  may  make  up  tiic 
balance  betwixt  the  number  slain  and  eight 
thousand  who  were  prisoners  when  the  mas- 
sacre began.  The  bodies  were  interred  in 
heaps,  in  immense  trenches,  prepared  be- 
forehand by  order  of  the  Community  of  Pa- 
ris ;  but  tlieir  bones  have  since  beeii  trans- 
ferred to  the  subterranean  catacombs,  which 

*  The  books  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville  preserve  evi- 
dence of  this  fact.  Billaud  (ie  Varennes  appaarfJ 
publiclv  among  the  asdMsina,  and  di:<tributed  0.,9 
price  of  blood 


form  the  general  charnel-house  of  the  city. 
In  those  melancholy  regions,  while  other  rel- 
ics of  mortality  lie  exposed  all  around,  tba 
remains  of  those  who  perished  in  the  massa- 
cres of  September  are  alone  secluded  from 
the  eye.  The  vault  in  which  they  repose  is 
closed  with  a  screen  of  freestone,  as  if  re- 
lating to  crimes  unfit  to  be  thought  of  eren 
in  the  proper  abode  of  death,  and  which 
France  would  willingly  hide  in  oblivion. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  reader  may  be  de- 
sirous to  know  what  efforts  were  made  bj 
the  Assembly,  to  save  the  lives  of  so  many 
Frenchmen,  or  to  put  a  stop  to  a  massacre 
carried  on  in  contempt  of  all  legal  interfer- 
ence, and  by  no  more  formidable  force  than 
tliat  of  two  or  three  hundred  atrocious  fel- 
ons, often,  indeed,  diminished  to  only  fifty 
or  sixty.  He  might  reasonably  expect  that 
the  National  Representatives  would  have 
thundered  forth  some  of  those  decrees 
which  they  formerly  directed  against  the 
Crown,  and  the  Noblesse  ;  that  they  should 
have  repaired  bv  deputations  to  the  various 
sections,  called  out  the  National  Guards, 
and  appealed  to  all,  not  only  that  were  sus- 
ceptible of  honour  or  humanity,  but  to  all 
who  had  the  breath  and  being  of  man,  to 
support  them  in  interrupting  a  series  of  hor- 
rors disgraceful  to  mankind.  Such  an  ap- 
peal to  the  feelings  of  their  fellow-citizens 
made  them  at  last  successful  in  the  over- 
throw of  Robespierre.  But  the  reign  of 
terror  was  now  but  in  its  commencement, 
and  men  had  not  yet  learned  that  tliere  lay 
a  refuge  in  the  efforts  of  Despair. 

Instead  of  such  energy  as  might  havu 
be-on  expected  from  the  principles  of  which 
they  boasted,  nothing  could  be  more  timid 
than  the  conduct  of  the  Girondists,  being 
t!ie  or.ly  party  in  the  Assembly  who  had  the 
power,  and  might  be  supposed  to  have  the 
inclination,  to  control  the  course  of  crime. 

We  looked  carefully  through  the  Moni- 
teurs,  which  contain  the  official  account 
of  the  sittings  of  the  Assembly  on  those 
dreadful  d-v.s.  We  find  regular  entries  of 
many  patii.t'ic  gifts,  of  such  importance  as 
the  following  : — A  fusee  from  an  English- 
man— a  pair  of  hackney-coach  horses  from 
tlie  coar.Iiaian — a  map  of  the  country  around 
Paris  ffcr.i  a  lady.  While  engaged  in  re- 
ceiving ami  registering  these  civic  dona- 
tion.=!,  their  journal  tiears  few  and  doubtful 
references  to  the  massacres  then  iu  pro- 
fresa.  The  Assembly  issued  no  decree 
a'jainstthe  si  lughter — demanded  no  support 
from  the  public  force,  and  restricted  them- 
selves to  sending  to  the  murderers  a  pitiful 
deputation  of  twelve  of  their  number,  whose 
commission  seems  to  have  been  limited  to 
petition  for  the  safety  of  one  of  their  col- 
I  leagues  belonging  to  the  Constitutional  fac- 
tion. With  difficulty  they  saved  him,  and 
1  the  celebrated  Abbe  Sicard,the  philanthro- 
j  pic  instructor  of  the  deaf  and  dumb,  impris- 
oned as  a  non-juring  priest,  for  whom  the 
I  wails  and  tears  ofiiis  hapless  pupils  had 
j  procured  a  reprieve  even  from  the  a-ssas- 
sins.  Dussault,  one  of  that  deputation,  di»- 
tiuguisiied  himself  by  the  efforts  which  h« 
used  to  persuade  the  murderers  to  desist. 
I "  Returu  to  your  place,"  said  one  of  tb* 


112 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  X. 


rnffitns,  his  arms  crimsoned  with  blood. 
"  You  have  made  us  lose  too  much  time. 
Return  to  your  business,  and  leave  us  to 
ours." 

Dussault  went  back,  to  recount  to  those 
who  had  sent  him  what  he  had  witnes.scd, 
and  how  he  had  been  received  ;  and  conclu- 
ded with  the  exclamation,  "  Woe's  me, 
that  I  should  have  lived  to  see  such  hor- 
rors, witliout  the  power  of  stopping  them  !" 
The  Assembly  heard  the  detail,  and  remain- 
ed timid  and  silent  as  before. 

Where,  in  that  hour,  were  the  men  who 
formed  their  judgment  upon  tlie  models 
presented  by  Plutarch,  their  feelings  on  the 
wild  eloquence  of  Rousseau?  Where  were 
the  Girondists,  celebrated  by  one  of  their 
admirers,*  as  distinguished  by  good  morals, 
by  severe  probity,  by  a  profound  respect  for 
the  dignity  of  man,  by  a  deep  sense  of  his 
rights  and  his  duties,  by  a  sound,  constant, 
and  immutable  love  of  order,  of  justice,  and 
of  liberty  ?  Were  the  eyes  of  such  men 
blind,  that  they  could  not  see  the  blood 
which  flooded  for  four  days  the  streets  of 
the  metropolis  ?  were  their  ears  deadened, 
that  they  could  not  hear  the  sliouts  of  the 
murderers,  and  the  screams  of  the  victims  ? 
or  were  their  voices  mute,  that  they  called 
not  upon  God  and  man — upon  the  very 
stones  of  Paris,  to  assist  them  in  interrupt- 
ing such  a  crime  !  Political  reasons  have, 
by  Royalist  writers,  been  supposed  to  fur- 
nish a  motive  for  their  acquiescence  ;  for 
there  is,  according  to  civilians,  a  certain 
degree  of  careless  or  timid  imbecility, 
which  can  only  be  explained  as  having  its 
origin  in  fraud.  They  allege  that  the  Gi- 
rondists saw,  raiher  with  pleasure  tjian  hor- 
ror, the  atrocities  which  were  committed, 
while  their  enemies  the  Jacobins,  extermi- 
nating their  equally  hated  enemies  the  Con- 
Btitutionalists  and  Royalists,  took  on  them- 
selves the  whole  odium  of  a  glut  of  blood, 
which  must  soon,  they  might  naturally  ex- 
pect, disgust  the  sense  and  feelings  of  a 
country  so  civilized  as  France.  We  re- 
main, nevertheless,  convinced,  that  Vergni- 
aud,  Brissot,  Roland,  and,  to  a  certainty, 
his  high-minded  wife,  would  have  stopped 
the  massacres  of  September,  had  their 
courage  and  practical  skill  in  public  affairs 
borne  any  proportion  to  the  conceit  which 
led  them  to  suppose,  iluit  their  vocation  lay 
for  governing  such  a  nation  as  France. 

But  whatever  was  the  motive  of  their 
apathy,  the  Legislative  Assembly  was  near- 
ly silent  on  the  subject  of  the  massacres, 
mot  only  while  they  v.'ere  in  progress,  but 
for  several  days  afterwards.  On  the  IGth 
of  September,  wh<in  nev.s  from  the  army 
on  the  frontiers  was  beginning  to  announce 
successes,  and  when  the  panic  of  the  me- 
tropolis began  to  subside,  Vergniaud  adroit- 
ly charged  the  Jacobins  with  turning  on 
anhappy  prisoners  of  state  the  popular  re- 
sentment, wliicli  should  have  animated 
them  with  bravery  to  march  out  against  the 
common  enemy.  He  upbraided  also  the 
Community  of  Paris  with  the  assumption 
of  unconstitutional  powers,  and  the  inhu- 


*Buzot. 


man  tyranny  with  which  they  had  abused 
them  ;  but  his  speech  made  little  impres- 
sion, so  much  are  deeds  of  cruelty  apt  to 
become  familiar  to  men's  feelings,  when 
of  frequent  recurrence.  When  the  first 
accounts  were  read  in  the  Constituent  .As- 
sembly, of  the  massLicres  perpetrated  at 
Avignon,  the  President  fainted  away,  and 
the  whole  body  manifested  a  horror,  as  well 
of  the  senses  as  of  the  mind  ;  and  now,  that 
a  fiir  more  cruel,  more  enduring,  more  ex- 
tensive train  of  murders  was  perpetrated 
under  their  own  eye,  the  Legislative  As- 
sembly looked  on  in  apathy.  The  utmost 
which  the  eloquence  of  \'ergniaud  could 
extract  from  them  was  a  decree,  that  in  fu- 
ture the  Community  should  be  answerabls 
with  their  own  lives  for  the  security  of  th» 
prisoners  under  their  charge.  After  passing 
this  decree,  the  i-egislative  Assembly,  be- 
ing the  second  Representative  Body  of  the 
French  nation,  dissolved  itself  according 
to  the  resolutions  of  the  10th  of  August,  to 
give  place  to  the  National  Convention. 

The  Legislative  Assembly  was,  in  it« 
composition  and  its  character,  of  a  casto 
greatly  inferior  to  that  which  il  succeeded. 
The  flower  of  the  talents  of  France  had 
naturally  centered  in  the  National  Assem- 
bly, and,  by  an  absurd  regalation,  its  mem- 
bers were  incapacitated  from  being  re- 
elected ;  v.hich  nccessnrily  occasioned  their 
situation  being  in  many  instances  supplied 
by  persons  of  inferior 'attainments.  Then 
the  destinies  of  the  first  Assembly  had  been 
fulfilled  in  a  more  lofty  manner.  They 
were  often  wrong,  often  ;ibsurd,  often  arro- 
gant and  presumptuous,  but  never  mean  or 
servile.  They  respected  the  liberty  of  de- 
bate, and  even  amidst  the  bitterest  political 
discussions,  defended  the  persons  of  their 
colle;^ues,  however  much  opposed  to  them 
in  sentiment,  and  maintained  their  consti- 
tutional inviolability.  They  had  also  the 
great  advantage  of  being,  as  it  were,  free 
born.  They  were  indeed  placed  in  cap- 
tivity by  their  removal  to  Paris,  but  their 
courage  was  not  abated  ;  nor  did  they  make 
any  concessions  of  a  personal  kind  to  the 
ruffians,  by  whom  they  were  at  times  per- 
sonally ill-used. 

But  the  second,  or  Legislative  Assem- 
bly, had,  on  the  contrary,  been  captive  from 
the  moment  of  their  first  convocation. 
They  had  never  met  but  in  Paris,  and  were 
inured  to  the  habit  of  patient  submission  to 
the  tribunes  and  the  refuse  of  the  city,  who 
repeatedly  broke  into  their  Hall,  and  issued 
their  mandates  in  the  form  of  petitions. 
On  two  memorablp  occasions  they  showed 
too  distinctly,  that  considerations  of  person- 
al safety  could  overpower  their  sense  of 
public  duty.  Two-thirds  of  the  Represent-  * 
atives  joined  in  acquitting  La  Fayette,  and 
declared  by  doing  so  that  they  abhorred  the 
insurrection  of  the  20th  of  June;  yet,  when 
that  of  the  10th  of  August  had  completed 
what  was  before  attempted  in  vain  upon  the 
occasion  preceding,  the  Assembly  unani- 
mously voted  the  deposition  of  the  mon- 
arch, and  committed  him  to  prison.  Sec- 
ondly, they  remained  silent  and  inactive 
during  all  the  horrors  of  September,  umI 


Chap.  X/.J 


LIFE  OF  N.\POLEO^^  BUONAFArxTn. 


13 


Buffered  the  executive  power  to  be  wrench- 
ed out  of  tljeir  liunds  by  the  Community  of 
Paris,  and  used  before  their  eyes  for  the 
destruction  of  many  thousands  of  French- 
men, whom  they  represented. 

It  must  be,  however,  remembered,  that 
the  Legislative  Assembly  were  oppressed 
by  difficulties  and  dangers  the  most  dread- 
ful that  can  threaten  a  government ; — the 
bloody  discord  of  contending  factions,   the  I 


arms  of  forei<rner8  menacing  the  frontier, 
and  civil  war  breaking  out  in  the  provinces. 
In  addition  to  these  sources  of  peril  and 
dismay,  there  were  three  divided  partiei 
within  the  Assembly  itself;  while  a  rival 
power,  equally  formidable  from  its  audaci- 
ty and  its  crimes,  had  erected  itself  in  pre- 
dominating authority,  like  that  of  the  Maires 
du  Palais  over  the  feeble  monarchs  of  Um 
Merovingian  dynasty. 


CHAP.    ZI. 

Election  of  Representatives  for  the  A'atioyial  Convention. — Jacobins  are  very  aetivt. 

Right  hand  Party — Left  har.d  side — Neutral  Members. —  The  Crirondists  are  inpoi- 
segsion  of  the  ostensible  Power — They  denounce  the  Jacobin  Chiefs,  but  in  an  irregu- 
lar and  feeble  manner. — Marat,  Robespierre,  and  Danton.  supported  by  the  Commtt- 
nity  and  Populace  of  Paris. — France  declared  a  Republic. — Duke  of  Brunswick's 
Campaign — Neglects  the  French  Emigrants — Is  tardy  in  hit  Operations — Occupies 
the  poorest  pari  of  Champagne. — His  Army  becomes  Sickly. — Prospects  of  a  Battle.— 
Dumouriez's  Army  recruited  xvith  Carmagnoles. —  The  Duke  resolves  to  Retreat — 
Thoughts  on  the  consequences  of  that  Measure—  The  Retreat  disastrotis. —  The  Emi- 
grants disbanded  in  a  great  measure. — Reflections  on  their  Fat*. —  The  Prince  qf 
CondA  's  Army. 

It  was  of  course  the  object  of  each  party  to 
obtain  the  greatest  possible  majority  in  the 
National  Convention  now  to  be  assembled, 
for  arranging  upon  some  new  footing  the 
government  of  France,  and  for  replacing 
that  Constitution  to  which  faith  had  been 
BO  repeatedly  sworn. 

The  Jacobins  made  the  most  energetic 
exertions.  They  not  only  wrote  missives 
through  their  two  thousand  affiliated  sorie- 
ties,  but  sent  three  hundred  commissaries, 
or  delegates,  to  superintend  the  elections 
in  the  different  towns  and  departments  ;  to 
exhort  their  comrades  not  only  to  be  firm, 
but  to  be  enterprising ;  and  to  seize  with 
Rtrong  hand  the  same  power  ovex  the  public 
force,  which  the  mother  society  possessed 
in  Paris.  The  advice  was  poured  into  will- 
ing ears  ;  for  it  implied  the  sacred  right 
of  insurrection,  with  the  concomitant  priv- 
ileges of  pillage  and  slaughter. 

The  power  of  the  Jacobins  was  irresisti- 
ble in  Paris,  where  Robespierre,  Uantor., 
;uid  Marat,  who  shared  the  high  places' in 
their  synagogue,  were  elected  by  ar;  :rr.- 
mense  majority  ;  and  of  the  iwentv  deputies 
who  represented  Paris,  there  were  not 
above  five  or  si.t  unconnected  with  the  mas- 
.sacres.  Nor  were  they  anywhere  unsuccess- 
ful, whence  there  existed  enough  of  their 
adherents  to  overawe  by  threats,  clamour, 
and  violence,  the  impartial  voice  of  the 
public. 

But  in  every  state  there  is  a  great  number 
of  men  who  love  order  for  itself,  and  for  the 
protection   it  affords  to   property.     There 
were  also  a   great  many  persons   at  heart  | 
Rovalists,   either  pure    or  constitutional, 
and  all  these  united  in  sending  to  the  Na- 
tional Convention  deputies,  who,  if  no  op- 
portunity occurred  of  restoring  the   mon-  I 
archy,  might  at  least  co-operate  with  the  I 
f  Jirondists  and  more  moderate  Republicans 
in  saving  the  life  of  the  unfortunate   Louis, 
smd  in  protecting  men's  lives,  and  property 
in  general,  from  the  infuriate  violence  of  i 


the  Jacobins.  These  supporters  of  order 
— we  know  no  better  name  to  assign  to 
them — were  chiefly  representatives  of  the 
departments,  where  electors  had  more  time 
to  discriminate  and  reflect,  than  when  un- 
der the  influence  of  the  revolutionary  soci- 
eties and  clubs  of  the  towns.  Yet  Nantes, 
Bourdeaux,  Marseilles,  Lyons,  and  other 
towns,  chiefly  in  the  west  and  south,  were 
disposed  to  support  the  Gir-^ndists,  and  sent 
deputies  favourable  to  their  sentiments. 
Thus  the  Convention,  when  assembled, 
still  presented  the  appearance  of  two  strong 
parties  ;  and  the  feebleness  of  that,  which, 
being  moderate  in  its  views,  only  sought  to 
act  defeBKi'/ely,  consisted  not  in  waot  of 
numbers,  but  in  want  of  energy. 

It  was  no  good  omen,  that  on  taking  their 
places  in  t;:e  Assembly,  these  last  assu.Tied 
the  Ricrhi  Side  ,  a  position  which  seemed 
doomed  to  defeat,  since  it  had  been  suc- 
cessivel}'  occupied  by  the  suppressed  par- 
tlei  of  moderate  Royalists  and  Constitu- 
tionalists. There  was  defeat  in  the  very 
sound  of  the  paWt  tfroi^,  whereas  the  left- 
hand  position  had  always  been  that  of  vic- 
tory. r<'en's  minds  are  moved  by  small  in- 
cidents in  dubious  times.  Even  this  choice 
of  seats  made  an  impression  upon  spectator* 
and  auditors  unfavourable  to  the  Girondists, 
ai  all  naturally  shrink  from  a  union  with 
bad  fortune.  There  was  a  considerable 
party  of  neutr.al  members,  who,  without 
joining  themselves  to  the  Girondists,  affect- 
ed to  judge  impartially  betwixt  the  con- 
tending parties.  They  wore  chiefly  men  of 
consciences  too  timid  to  go  all  the  lengths 
of  the  Jacobins,  but  also  of  too  timid  nerves 
to  oppose  them  openly  and  boldly  These 
wore  sure  to  succumb  on  all  occasions, 
when  the  Jacobins  judged  it  necessary  to 
use  their  favourite  argument  of  popular 
terror. 

The  Girondists  took  pe-gession,  howev- 
er, of  all  ostensible  marks  of  power.  Dan 
ton  was  dismissed  from  his  place  as  Mini*- 


114 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


\Chap.  XL 


ter  of  Justice  ;  and  they  were,  as  far  as 
mere  official  name  and  title  could  bestow 
it  on  them,  in  possession  of  the  authority  of 
government.  But  the  ill-fated  regulation 
which  excluded  ministers  from  seats  in  tiie 
Assembly,  and  consequently  from  any  right 
«avc  that  of  defence,  proved  as  fatal  to 
those  of  the  new  system,  as  it  had  done  to 
the  executive  government  of  Louis. 

Our  remarks  upon  the  policy  of  the  great 
chan::rc  from  monarchy,  to  a  republic,  will 
be  iuore  in  place  elsewhere.  Indeed,  vio- 
lent ;l3  the  change  sounded  in  words,  there 
w^iii  not  such  an  important  alteration  in  ef- 
fect as  to  produce  much  sensation.  The 
Constitution  of  1791  was  a  democracy  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  leaving  little  power 
with  the  King,  and  that  little  subject  to  be 
Bomuch  cramped  and  straitened  in  its  ope- 
ration, that  the  royal  authority  was  even 
smaller  in  practice  than  it  had  been  limited 
in  theory.  When  to  this  is  added,  that 
Louis  was  a  prisoner  amongst  his  subjects, 
acting  under  tlie  most  severe  restraint,  and 
endangering  his  life  every  time  he  attempt- 
ed to  execute  his  constitutional  power,  he 
must  long  have  beer  held  rather  an  incum- 
brance on  the  motions  and  councils  of  the 
state,  than  as  one  of  its  efficient  constituted 
authorities.  The  nominal  change  of  the 
system  of  government  scarcely  made  a 
jveater  alteration  in  the  internal  condition 
of  France,  than  the  change  of  a  sign  makes 
upon  a  house  of  entertainment,  where  the 
business  of  the  tavern  is  carried  on  in  the 
usual  way,  although  the  place  is  no  longer 
distinguished  as  the  King's  Head.  . 

While  France  was  thus  alarmed  and  agi- 
tated within,-  by  change,  by  crime,  by  the 
most  bitter  political  factions,  the  dawn  of 
that  course  of  victory  had  already  risen  on 
the  frontiers,  which,  in  its  noon-day  splen- 
dour, was  to  blaze  fiercely  over  all  Europe. 
It  is  not  our  purpose  to  detail  military 
events  at  present ;  we  shall  have  but  too 
many  of  them  to  discuss  hereafter.  We 
shall  barely  state,  that  the  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick's campaign,  considered  as  relative  to 
his  proclamation,  forms  too  good  an  illus- 
tration of  the  holy  text,  '•  Pride  goeth  be- 
fore destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before 
a  fall."  The  Duke  was  at  the  head  of  a 
splendid  army,  which  had  been  joined  by 
fifteen  thousand  emigrants  in  the  finest 
state  of  equipment,  burning  with  zeal  to 
rescue  the  King  and  avenge  themselves  on 
those  by  whom  they  had  been  driven  from 
their  country.  From  what  fatality  it  is  hard 
to  conceive,  but  the  Duke  of  Brunswick 
seems  to  have  looked  with  a  certain  degree 
of  coldness  and  suspicion  on  those  troops, 
whose  chivalrous  valour  and  high  birth 
called  them  to  the  van,  instead  of  the  rear, 
in  which  the  Generalissimo  was  pleased  to 
detain  them.  The  chance  of  success  that 
might  justly  have  been  expected  from  the 
fiery  energy  which  was  the  very  soul  of 
French  chivalry,  from  the  fear  which  such 
an  army  might  have  inspired,  or  perhaps 
from  the  friends  whom  they  might  have 
found,  was  altogether  lost.  There  was 
something  in  this  extraordinary  conduct, 
which  almost  vindicated  the  suspicion  that 


Prussia  was  warring  on  her  own  account, 
and  was  not  disposed  to  owe  too  much  of 
the  expected  success  to  the  valour  of  th« 
emigrants.  And  it  escaped  not  the  remark, 
both  of  the  emigrants  and  the  French  at 
large,  that  Longwy  and  Verdun  were  os- 
tentatiously taken  possession  of  by  the  al- 
lies, not  under  the  name  of  the  King  of 
I'rance,  or  the  Comte  d'.\rtois,  but  in  that 
of  the  Emperor ;  which  appeared  to  give 
colour  to  tlie  invidious  report,  that  the 
allies  were  to  be  indemnified  for  the  cost 
of  their  assistance  at  the  expense  of  the 
French  line  of  frontier  towns.  Neither  did 
the  Duke  use  his  fine  army  of  Prussians,  or 
direct  the  motions  of  the  Austrians  under 
Clairfait,  to  any  greater  advantage.  He 
had,  indeed,  the  troops  of  the  Great  Fred- 
erick ;  but  under  the  command  of  an  irres- 
olute and  incapable  leader,  it  was  the 
sword  of  Scandeft'beg  in  the  hands  of  a 
boy. 

This  tardiness  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick's 
movements  intimated  a  latent  doubt  of  his 
own  capacity  to  conduct  the  campaign. 
The  superiority  of  his  veteran  and  finely 
disciplined  forces  over  the  disorganized 
army  of  Dumouriez,  reinforced  as  it  was 
by  crowds  of  Federates,  who  were  perfect 
strangers  to  war,  would  have  been  best  dis- 
played by  bold  and  rapid  movements,  evinc- 
ing at  once  activity  and  combination,  and 
alarming  raw  troops  by  a  sense  of  danger, 
not  in  front  alone,  but  on  every  point.  Eiach 
day  which  these  new  soldiers  spent  un- 
fought,  was  one  step  towards  military  disci- 
pline, and  what  is  more,  towards  military 
confidence.  The  general  who  had  threat- 
ened so  hard,  seemed  to  suspend  his  blow 
in  indecision  ;  and  he  remained  trifling  on 
the  frontiers,  "  when  Frederick,  had  ho 
been  in  our  front,"  said  the  French  gene- 
ral, ■'  would  long  since  have  driven  us  back 
upon  Chalons." 

The  result  of  so  many  false  steps  began 
soon  to  appear.  Brunswick,  whose  army 
was  deficient  in  battering  guns,  though  en- 
tering France  on  a  frontier  of  fortifications, 
was  arrested  by  the  obstinate  defence  of 
ThionviUe.  Having  at  length  decided  to 
advance,  he  spent  nine  days  in  marching 
thirty  leagues,  but  omitted  to  possess  him- 
self of  the  defiles  of  Argonnes,  by  which 
alone  the  army  of  Luckner  could  co-ope- 
rate with  that  of  Dumouriez.  The  allied 
general  now  found  himself  in  the  most  ele- 
vated part  of  the  province  of  Champagne,  ' 
branded  for  its  poverty  and  sterility  witri 
the  unseemly  name  La  Champagne  FouU- 
letise,  where  he  found  difficulty  to  subsist 
his  army.  Meantime,  if  corn  and  forage 
were  scarce,  grapes  and  melons  were,  un- 
fortunately, plenty.  These  last  fruits  are 
so  proverbially  unwholesome,  that  the  ma- 
gistrates of  Liege,  and  some  other  towns, 
forbid  the  peasants  to  bring  them  to  market 
under  pain  of  confiscation.  It  was  the  first 
time  such  delicacies  had  been  presented  to 
the  hyperborean  appetites  of  the  Prussians; 
and  they  could  not  resist  the  temptation, 
though  the  same  penalty  was  annexed  to 
the  banquet,  as  to  that  which  produced  the 
first  transgression.    They  ate  and  died.     A 


Chi^.  XI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BnONAPARTF. 


115 


fatal  dysentarybrokf  out  in  the  camp,  which 
swept  the  solJiers  away  by  hundreds  in  a 
day,  sunk  the  spirits  cf  the  survivors,  and 
•eems  to  have  totally  broken  the  courage 
of  their  commander. 

Two  courses  remained  to  the  embarrass- 
ed general.  One  was,  to  make  his  way  by 
giving  battle  to  ihc  French,  by  attacking 
them  in  the  strong  position  which  they 
had  been  permitted  to  occupy,  notwith- 
standing the  ease  with  which  they  might 
La»e  been  anticipated.  It  is  true,  Dumou- 
riez  had  been  very  strongly  reinforced. 
France,  from  all  her  departments,  had  read- 
ily poured  forth  many  thousands  of  her 
fiery  youth,  from  city  and  town,  village  and 
grange  and  farm,  to  protect  the  frontiers, 
at  once,  from  the  invasion  of  foreigners, 
and  the  occupation  of  thousands  of  venge- 
ful emigrants.  They  were  undisciplined, 
in  ieed,  but  full  of  zeal  and  courage,  heat- 
ed and  excited  by  the  scenes  of  the  repub- 
lic, and  inflamed  by  the  florid  eloquence, 
the  songs,  dances,  and  signal-words  with 
which  it  had  been  celebrated.  Above  all, 
they  were  of  a  country,  which,  of  all  oth- 
ers in  Europe,  has  been  most  familiar  with 
war,  and  the  youth  of  which  are  most  ea- 
sily rendered  amenable  to  military  disci- 
pline. 

But  to  these  new  levies  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick  might  have  safely  opposed  the 
ardent  valour  of  the  emigrants,  men  de- 
scended of  families  whoscdeeds  of  chival- 
ry fill  the  registers  of  Europe ;  men  by 
whom  the  road  to  Paris  was  regarded  as 
that  which  was  to  conduct  them  to  victory, 
to  honour,  to  the  rescue  of  their  King,  to 
reunion  with  their  families,  to  the  recovery 
of  their  patrimony ;  men  accustomed  to 
consider  disgrace  as  more  dreadful  by  far 
than  death,  and  who  claimed  as  their  birth- 
right, military  renown  and  the  use  of  arms. 
In  one  skirmish,  fifteen  hundred  of  the 
emigrant  cavalry  had  defeated,  with  great 
slaughter,  a  column  of  the  Carmagnoles, 
as  the  republic.m  levies  were  called.  They 
were  routed  with  great  slaughter,  and  their 
opponents  had  tl;e  pleasure  to  count  among 
the  slain  a  considerable  number  of  the  as- 
sas.sins  of  September. 

But  the  French  general  had  more  confi- 
dence in  the  Carmagnole  levies,  from  which 
his  military  ge  lius  derived  a  valuable  sup- 
port, than  Brunswick  thought  proper  to 
repose  in  the  chivalrous  gallantry  of  the 
French  noblesse.  He  could  only  be  brouulit 
to  engage  in  one  action,  of  artillery,  near 
\'a]my,  which  was  attended  with  no  mark- 
ed consequence,  and  then  issued  his  order 
for  a  retreat,  it  was  in  vain  that  the  Comte 
d'.Artois,  with  a  spirit  worthy  of  the  line 
from  which  lie  was  descended,  and  the 
throne  to  which  he  has  now  succeeded, 
entreated,  almost  implored,  a  recall  of 
this  fatal  order  ;  in  vain  that  he  offered  in 
person  to  head  the  emigrant  forces,  and  to 
arsume  witli  them  the  most  desperate  post 
in  the  battle,  if  the  Gencrali.'^simo  would 
permit  it  to  be  foujht.  But  the  Date,  r.i-sti- 
nate  in  his  desponding  in  proportion  to  his 
former  presumption,  was  not  of  that  high 
Biiad  which  adopts  hazardous  counsc-ls  in 


desperate  cases.  He  saw  his  army  moul- 
dering away  around  him,  beheld  the  French 
forming  in  his  rear,  knew  that  the  resour- 
ces of  Prussia  were  unequal  to  a  prolonged 
war,  and,  after  one  or  two  feeble  attempta 
to  negotiate  for  the  safety  of  the  captive 
Louis,  he  was  at  length  contented  to  accep* 
an  implied  permission  to  retreat  without 
molestation.  He  raised  his  camp  on  the 
30th  of  September,  and  left  behind  him 
abundant  marks  of  the  dreadful  state  to 
which  his  army  was  reduced. 

When  we  look  back  on  these  events,  and 
are  aware  of  Dumouriez's  real  opinions, 
and  the  interest  which  he  took  in  the  fats 
of  the  King,  we  have  little  reason  to  doubt, 
that  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  might,  by  ac- 
tive and  prompt  exertions,  have  eluded  that 
general's  defensive  measures;  nay,  that 
judicious  negotiation  might  have  induced 
him,  on  certain  points  being  conceded,  to 
have  united  a  pa-t  at  least  of  his  force* 
with  those  of  the  emigrants  in  a  march  to 
Paris,  for  the  King's  rescue,  and  the  punish* 
ment  of  the  .(acobins. 

But  had  the  restoration  of  Louis  XVL 
taken  place  by  the  armed  hand  of  the  emi- 
grants and  the  allies,  the  final  event  of  the 
war  must  still  have  been  distant.  Almost 
the  whole  body  of  the  kingdom  was  dia- 
metrically opposed  to  the  restoration  of 
the  absolute  monarchy  with  all  its  evils ; 
and  yet  it  must  have  been  the  object  of  the 
emigrants,  in  case  of  success,  again  to 
establish,  not  only  royalty  in  its  utmost 
prerogative,  but  all  the  oppressive  privile- 
ges and  feudal  subjections  which  the  Revo- 
lution had  swept  away.  Much  was  to  have 
been  dreatled,  too,  from  the  avidity  of  the 
strangers,  whose  arms  had  assisted  the  im- 
prisoned Louis,  and  much  more  from  what 
has  since  been  aptly  termed  the  Reaction, 
which  must  have  taken  place  upon  a  coun- 
ter-revolution. It  was  greatly  to  be  appre- 
hended, that  the"  emigrants,  always  deen>- 
ing  too  lightly  of  the  ranks  beneath  them, 
incensed  by  the  murder  of  their  friends, 
and  stung  by  their  own  private  wrongs  and 
insults,  would,  if  successful,  have  treated 
the  Revolution  not  as  an  exertion  of  the 
public  will  of  France  to  free  the  country 
from  public  grievances,  but  as  a  Jacquerie, 
(which  in  some  of  its  scenes  it  too  much  r^ 
sembied,)  a  domestic  treason  of  the  vassals 
against  their  liege  lords.  It  was  the  will 
of  Providence,  that  the  experience  of 
twenty  years  and  upwards  should  make 
manifest,  tliat  in  the  hour  of  victory  itself 
concessions  to  the  defeated,  as  far  as  jus- 
tice demands  them,  is  the  only  mode  of 
deriving  permanent  and  secure  peace. 

The  retreat  of  the  Prussians  was  execa- 
ted  in  the  worst  possible  order,  as  is  usual- 
ly the  case  of  such  a  manoeuvre  when  un- 
provided for,  and  executed  by  troops  who 
had  been  led  to  expect  a  very  difierent 
movement.  But  if  to  them  it  was  a  meas- 
ure of  disaster  and  disgrace,  it  was  to  the 
unfortunate  emigrants  who  had  joined  their 
standard,  the  signal  of  utter  despair  and 
ruin.  These  corps  were  composed  of 
gentlemen,  who,  called  suddenly  and  un- 
provided from   their  families  and   homes, 


116 


LIFE  OF  r^APOLEON   BUONAPARTF.. 


[Chap.  XI. 


had  only  brought  with  them  such  moderate 
sums  of  money  as  could  be  raised  in  an 
emergency,  which  they  had  fondly  con- 
ceived would  be  of  very  brief  duratuni. 
They  had  expended  most  of  their  funds 
in  providing  themselves  with  horses,  arms, 
and  equipments — some  part  must  have  been 
laid  out  in  their  necessary  subsistence,  for 
they  served  chiefly  at  their  own  expense — 
and  perhaps,  as  might  have  beeu  expected 
among  high-spirited  and  high-born  youths, 
their  slender  funds  had  not  been  managed 
with  an  economical  view  of  the  possibility 
of  the  reverses  which  had  taken  place.  In 
the  confusion  and  disorder  of  the  retreat, 
their  baggage  was  plundered  by  their  aux- 
iliaries, that  is  to  say,  by  the  disorderly 
T*mssian  soldiers,  who  had  shaken  loose  all 
discipline  ;  and  they  were  in  most  cases 
reduced  for  instant  maintenance  to  sell 
their  horses  at  such  paltry  prices  as  they 
could  obtain.  To  end  the  history  of  such 
of  this  devoted  army  as  had  been  engaged 
in  the  Duke  of  Brunswick's  campaign,  they 
were  disbanded  at  Juliers,  in  November 
1792. 

The  blindness  of  sovereigns,  who,  still 
continuing  a  war  on  France,  suffered  such 
fine  troops  to  be  dissolved  for  want  of  the 
means  of  support,  was  inexcusable ;  their 
cold  and  hard-hearted  conduct  towards  a 
body  of  gentlemen,  who,  if  politically 
wrong,  were  at  least  devoted  to  the  cause 
for  which  Austria  asserted  that  she  con- 
tinued in  arms,  was  equally  unwise  and  un- 
senerous.  These  gallant  gentlemen  might 
have  upbraided  the  Kings  who  had  encour- 
aged, and  especially  the  general  who  led, 
this  ill-fated  expedition,  in  the  words  of 
Shakspeare,  if  he  had  been  known  to 
them, — 

••  Hast  thou  not  spoke  hke  thunder  on  our  side, 
Been  sworn  our  soldier — bidding  us  depend 
Upon  thy  stars,  thy  fortune,  and  thy  strength  ?" 

But  the  reproaches  of  those  who  have  no 
remedy  but  the  exposition  of  their  wrongs, 
seldom  reach  the  ears  of  the  powerful  by 
whom  those  wrongs  have  been  committed. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  the  agony 
with  which  these  banished  gentlemen  aban- 
doned all  hopes  of  saving  the  life  of  their 
King,  and  the  recovery  of  their  rank  and 
fortune.  All  their  proud  vaunts  of  expect- 
ed-success  were  lost,  or  converted  into 
serpents  to  sting  them.  They  had  no  hope 
before  them,  and,  what  is  worst  to  men  of 
high  spirit,  they  had  fallen  with  scarce  a 
blow  struck  for  honour,  far  less  for  victory. 
They  were  now  doomed,  such  as  could,  to 
exercise  for  mere  subsistence  the  prosecu- 
tion of  sciences  and  arts,  which  they  had 
cultivated  to  adorn  prosperity — to  wander 
in  foreign  lands,  and  live  upon  the  preca- 
rious charity  of  foreign  powers,  embittered 
everywhere  by  the  reflections  of  some,  who 
pitied  the  folly  that  could  forfeit  rank  and 
property  for  a  mere  point  of  honour  ;  and 
of  others,  who  saw  in  them  the  enemies  of 
rational  liberty,  and  upbraided  them  with 
the  charge,  that  their  misfortunes  were  the 
necessary  consequence  of  their  arbitrary 
principles 


It  might  have  in  some  degree  mitigated 
their  calamity,  could  some  gifted  sage  have 
shown  Ihcm,  at  such  distance  as  the  Legis- 
lator of  I.«r;iel  beheld  the  Promised  Land 
from  Mount  Pisgah,  the  final  restoration  of 
the  royal  house,  in  whose  cause  they  had 
suifored  shipwreck  of  tlicir  all.  But  how 
many  perished  in  tl>e  wilderness  of  misfor- 
tune which  inte'vened — how  few  survived 
the  twenty  years  wandering  which  conduct- 
ed to  this  promised  point !  and  of  those 
few,  who,  war-worn  and  wearied  by  misfor- 
tunes, survived  the  restoration  of  royalty, 
how  very  few  were  rewarded  by  more  thaa 
the  disinterested  triumph  which  they  felt 
on  that  joyful  occasion  !  and  how  iflany 
might  use  the  simile  of  a  royalist  of  Britain 
on  a  similar  occasion, — "  The  fleece  of 
Gideon  remained  dry,  while  the  hoped-for 
restoration  shed  showers  of  blessings  on  all 
France  beside  !" 

The  emigrant  regiments,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  Prince  of  Conde,  had  another 
and  a  nobler  fate.  They  retained  their 
arms,  and  signalized  themselves  by  their 
exertions  ;  were  consumed  by  the  sword, 
and  in  toils  of  service,  and  died  at  least  the 
death  of  soldiers,  mourned,  and  not  unre- 
venged.  But  they  were  wasting  their  de- 
voted courage  in  the  service  of  foreigners  ; 
and  if  their  gallantry  was  gratified  by  the 
defeat  of  those  whom  they  regarded  as  the 
murderers  of  their  King  and  as  usurpers  of 
their  rights,  they  might  indeed  feel  that 
their  revenge  was  satiated,  but  scarce  in 
any  sense  could  they  regard  their  victories 
as  serviceable  to  the  cause  to  which  they 
had  sacrificed  their  country,  their  posses- 
sions, their  hopes,  their  lives.  Their  fate, 
though  on  a  much  more  extensive  scale, 
much  resembles  that  of  the  officers  of  the 
Scottish  army  in  1690,  who,  following  the 
fortunes  of  James  II.  to  France,  were  at 
length  compelled  to  form  themselves  into 
a  battalion  of  privates,  and,  after  doing  ma- 
ny feats  of  gallintry  in  the  service  of  the 
country  where»they  found  refuge,  at  length 
melted  away  uiider  the  sword  of  the  enemy, 
and  the  privations  of  military  service.  His- 
tory, while  she  is  called  upon  to  censure 
or  commend  the  actions  of  mankind  accor- 
ding to  the  rules  of  immutable  justice,  is 
no  less  bound  to  lament  the  brave  and  gen- 
erous, who,  preferring  the  dictates  of  hon- 
ourable feeling  to  those  of  prudence,  are 
hurried  into  courses  which  may  be  doubtful 
in  policy,  and  perhaps  in  patriotism,  but  to 
which  they  are  urged  by  the  disinterested 
wish  of  discharging  what  they  account  a 
conscientious  duty.  The  emigrants  were 
impolitic,  perhaps,  in  leaving  France, 
though  tliat  conduct  had  many  apologies  ; 
and  their  entrance  into  their  country  in 
arms  to  bring  back  the  despotic  system, 
which  Louis  XVI.  and  the  whole  nation, 
save  themselves,  had  renounced,  was  an 
enterprise  unwisely  and  unjustly  undertak- 
en. But  the  cause  they  embraced  was  one 
dear  to  all  the  prejudices  of  the  rank  and 
sentiments  in  which  they  had  been  brought 
up;  their  loyal  purpose  in  its  defence  is 
indisputable  ;  and  it  would  be  hard  to  con- 
demn  them   for    following    one   extreme. 


Chap.  XL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


117 


when  the  most  violent  and  tyrannical  pro- 
ceedings were,  in  the  sight  of  all  Europe, 
urging  another,  so  bloody,  black,  and  fatal 
as  that  of  the  faction  which  now  domineer- 
ed in  Paris,  and  constrained  men,  whose 
prejudices  of  birth  or  education  were  in 
favour  of  freedom,  to  loathe  the  very  name 
of  France,  and  of  the  Revolution. 

The  tame  and  dishonourable  retreat  of 
the  Duke  of  Brunswick  and  his  Prussians, 
naturally  elated  the  courage  of  a  proud  and 
martial  people.  Recruits  flowed  into  the 
Republican  ranks  from  every  department  ; 
and  the  generals,  Custine  on  the  Rhine, 
and  Montesquieu  on  the  side  of  Savoy,  with 
Dumouriez  in  the  Netherlands,  knew  how- 
to  avail  themselves  of  these  reinforce- 
ments, which  enabled  them  to  assume  the 
offensive  on  all  parts  of  the  extensive  south- 
eastern frontier  of  France. 

The  attack  of  Savoy,  whose  sovereign, 
the  King  of  Sardinia,  was  brotlier-in-law  of 
the  Comte  d'Artois,  and  had  naturally  been 
active  in  the  cause  of  the  Bourbons,  was 
successfully  commenced,  and  carried  on 
by  General  Montcsquiou  already  mention- 
ed, a  Frencli  noble,  and  an  aristocrat  of 
course  by  birth,  and  as  it  was  believed,  by 
principle,  but  to  whom,  nrvertiicless,  the 
want  of  experienced  leaders  had  compelled 
the  ruling-  party  at  ,Pari3  to  commit  the 
command  of  an  army.  He  served  them 
well,  possessed  himeelf  of  Nice  and  Cham- 
beri,  and  threatened  even  Italy. 

On  the  centre  of  the  same  line  of  fron- 
tier, Custine,  an  excellent  soldier  and  a 
fierce  republican,  took  Spires,  Oppenheim, 
Worms,  finally  the  strong  city  of  Pvlentz, 
and  spread  dismay  through  that  portion  of 
the  Germanic  empire.  Adopting  the  re- 
publican language  of  the  day,  he  thunderud 
forth  personal  vengeance,  denounced  in 
the  most  broad  and  msulting  terms,  against 
such  princes  of  the  Germanic  body  as  had 
distinguished  themselves  by  zeal  against 
the  Revolution  ;  and  what  was  equally  for- 
midable, he  prcaclied  to  their  subjects  the 
flattering  and  exciting  doctrines  of  the  Re- 
publicans, and  invited  them  to  join  in  the 
sacred  league  of  the  oppres<ied  people 
against  princes  and  magistrates,  who  had  so 
long  iield  over  them  an  usurped  power. 

But  the  successes  of  Dumouriez  were  of 
a  more  decided  and  more  grateful  character 
to  the  ruling  men  in  the  Convention.  Ho 
had  a  heavier  task  th.an  either  Custine  or 
Montesquieu  ;  but  his  lively  and  fertile 
imagination  had  already  devised  modes  of 
conquest  with  the  imperfect  means  he  pos- 


sessed. The  difference  between  com- 
manders is  tlie  same  as  between  mechan- 
ics. A  workman  of  commonplace  tal- 
ents, Jiowever  expert  custom  and  habit 
may  have  made  him  in  the  use  of  his  ordi- 
nary tools,  is  at  a  loss  when  deprived  of 
those  which  he  is  accustomed  to  work  with. 
The  man  of  invention  and  genius  finds  out 
resources,  and  contrives  to  make  such  im- 
plements as  the  moment  supplies  answer 
his  purpose,  as  well,  and  perhaps  better, 
than  a  regular  chest  of  working  utensils. 
The  ideas  of  the  ordinary  man  are  like  a 
deep-rutted  road,  through  which  his  ima- 
gination moves  slowly,  and  without  depart- 
ing from  the  track  ;  thtftee  of  the  man  of 
genius  are  like  an  avenue,  clear,  open,  and 
.^inoot'i,  on  which  he  may  traverse  as  occsi- 
sion  requires. 

Dumouriez  was  a  man  of  genius,  re- 
source, and  invention  ;  Clairfait,  who  was 
opposed  to  him,  a  brave  and  excellent  sol- 
dier, hut  who  had  no  idea  of  strategic  or  tac- 
tics, save  those  current  during  the  Seven 
Ve.-.rs  War.  The  former  knew  so  well 
how  to  employ  the  fire  and  eagerness  of  his 
Carmagnoles,  of  whose  blood  he  was  by  n» 
means  chary,  and  how  to  prevent  the  con- 
sequences of  their  want  of  discipline,  by 
reservps  of  his  most  steadyund  experienc- 
ed troops,  that  he  gave  Clairfait  a  signal 
defeat  at  Jemappes,  on  the  6th  November, 
179ii. 

It  was  then  that  both  Austria  and  Europe 
had  reason  to  regret  the  absurd  policy  of 
Josepii  11..  both  in  indisposing  the  inhabit- 
ants towards  his  government,  and,  in  the 
fine  provinces  of  tlie  Austri.an  Netherlands, 
dismantlui'^  the  iron  girdle  of  fortified 
towns,  with  which  the  wis-dom  of  IiLurope 
had  invested  the  frontier.  Clairfait,  who, 
though  defeated,  was  too  good  a  disciplina- 
rian to  be  routed,  had  to  retreat  on  a  coun- 
try unfriendly  lo  the  .Austrians,  from  recol- 
lection of  their  own  recent  insurrection, 
and  divested  of  all  garrison  towns  ;  which 
must  have  been  severe  checks,  particularly 
at  this  period,  to  the  incursion  of  a  revolu- 
tionary army,  more  fitted  to  win  b.attles  by 
its  impetuosity,  than  to  overcome  obstacles 
which  could  only  be  removed  by  long  and 
patient  sieges, 

.\s  matters  stood,  the  battle  of  Jamappcs 
was  won,  and  the  Austrian  Netherlands  were 
fully  conquered  without  further  combat  by 
the  Frencli  treneral.  We  shall  leave  him  in 
his  triumph,  and  return  to  the  fatal  scenes 
actinjj  in  Paris. 


118 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BLONAPARTF.. 


[Chap.  XIL 


CHAP.  XII. 

Jacobins  determine  upon  the  Execution  of  Lovis. — Progress  and  Rtasom  of  the  King  $ 
Unpopularity. — Girondists  taken  by  surprise,  by  a  proposal  for  the  Abolition  of  Roy- 
alty made  by  the  Jacobins. — Proposal  carried. —  Thoughts  on  the  Nein  System  of  Gov- 
ernment— Compared  unth  that  of  Rome,  Greece,  America,  and  other  Republican 
States. — Enthusiasm  throughout  France  at  the  Change— Follies  it  gave  birth  to — And 
Crimes. — Momiments  of  Art  destroyed. — Madame  Roland  interposes  to  save  the  Life 
qfthc  King.—Darrcre. — Girondists  move  for  a  Departmental  Legion — Carried — Re- 
voked—and Girondists  defeated.— The  Authority  of  the  Community  of  Paris  para- 
mount even  over  the  Convention. — Documents  of  the  Iron-Chest. — Parallel  betwixt 
Charles  I.  and  Louis  XVL — Motion  by  Pcthion,  that  the  King  should  be  Tried  before 
the  Convention. 


It  is  generally  to  be  remarked,  that  Crime, 
as  well  as  Religion,  has  her  sacramental  as- 
sociations, fitted  for  the  purposes  to  which 
■ho  desires  to  pledge  her  votaries.  When 
Catiline  imposed  an  oath  on  his  fellow- 
conspirators,  a  slave  was  murdered,  and  his 
blood  mingled  witii  the  beverage  in  which 
they  pledged  each  other  to  their  treason 
against  the  republic.  The  most  desperate 
mutineers  and  pirates  loo  have  believed, 
that  by  engaging  their  associates  in  some 
crime  of  a  deep  and  atrocious  nature,  so 
contrary  to  the  ordinary  feelings  of  human- 
ity as  to  strike  with  horror  all  who  should 
hear  of  it,  they  made  their  allegiance  more 
completely  their  own  ;  and,  as  remorse  is 
useless  where  retreat  is  impossible,  that 
tJiey  thus  rendered  them  in  future  the  des- 
perat{»  and  unscrupulous  tools,  necessa- 
ry for  the  desperate  designs  of  their  lead- 
ers. 

In  like  manner,  the  Jacobins,— who  had 
now  full  possession  of  the  passions  and 
2onfidence  of  the  lower  orders  in  France, 
IS  well  as  of  all  those  sDirits  among  the 
nigher  classes,  who,  whether  desirous  of 
promotion  by  exertions  in  the  revolutionary 
path,  or  whether  enthusia'-ts  whose  imagin- 
atioa  !iad  become  heated  with  the  extrava- 
gant doctrines  that  had  been  current  during 
tiiese  feverish  times, — the  Jacobins  resolv- 
ed to  engage  their  adherents,  and  all  whom 
thoy  influenced,  in  proceeding  to  the  death 
of  the  unfortunate  Louis.  They  had  no 
reason  to  doubt  that  they  might  excite  the 
populace  to  desire  and  demand  that  final 
uacrifice.  and  to  consider  the  moment  of 
its  being  offered  as  a  time  of  jubilee.  Nor 
vff.rn  the  belter  classes  likely  to  take  a 
warm  cr  decisive  interest  in  the  fate  of 
their  unli.ippy  prince,  so  long  the  object  of 
unpopularity. 

From  llie  beginning  of  the  Revolution, 
down  to  the  total  overthrow  of  the  throne, 
Sr.sl  t!ie  power  of  tl)e  Kin^,  and  afterwards 
bis  person  and  the  measures  to  which  he  i 
resorted,  were  the  constant  subject  of  at- 
tack by  the  parties  who  successively  forced 
tluimsflveR  into  his  administration.  Each 
faction  accused  the  other  during  the  time 
of  their  brief  sway,  of  attempts  to  extend 
the  power  and  tlie  privileges  of  the  Crown  ; 
which  was  thus  under  a  perpetual  siege, 
though  carried  on  by  distinct  and  opposite 
factions,  olie  of  wliom  regularly  occupied 
the  lines  of  attack,  to  dislodge  the  others, 
w  fast  as  they  obtained  successively  pos- 


session of  the  ministry.  Thus  the  Third 
Estate  overcame  the  two  privileged  clash- 
es, in  behalf  of  the  people  and  against  the 
Crown  ;  La  Fayette  and  the  Constitution- 
alists triumphed  over  the  Moderates,  who 
desired  to  afford  the  King  the  shelter  and 
bulwark  of  an  intermediate  Senate  ;  and 
then,  after  creating  a  Constitution  as  demo- 
cratical  as  it  could  be,  leaving  a  name  and 
semblance  of  Royalty,  they  sunk  under  the 
Girondists,  who  were  disposed  altogether 
to  dispense  with  that  symbol.  In  this  way 
it  appeared  to  the  people  that  the  King  was 
their  natural  enemy,  and  that  the  royal  in- 
terest was  directly  opposed  to  a  revolution 
which  had  brought  them  sundry  advantages, 
besides  giving  them  the  t'eelings  and  con- 
sequence of  freemen.  In  this  manner,  one 
of  the  mildest  and  best-disposed  monarcha 
that  ever  swayed  a  sceptre,  became  exposed 
to  general  suspicion  and  misconstruction  in 
his  measures,  and  (as  is  sure  speedily  to 
follow)  to  personal  contempt,  and  even  ha- 
tred. Whatever  the  King  did  in  compli- 
ance with  the  current  tide  of  Revolution, 
was  accounted  as  fraudful  complaisance,  do- 
signed  to  blind  the  nation.  Whatever  op- 
position he  made  to  that  powerful  impulse, 
was  accounted  an  act  of  open  treason 
against  the  sovereignty  of  the  people. 

His  position,  with  regard  to  the  invading 
powers,  was  enough  of  itself  to  load  hiro 
with  obloquy  and  suspicion.  It  is  true,  that 
he  was  called,  and  professed  himself,  the 
willing  King  of  a  popular,  or  democratic 
monarchy  ;  but  in  the  proclamations  of  hia 
allies,  he  was  described  as  a  monarch  im- 
prisoned, degraded,  and  almost  dethroned. 
To  achieve  his  liberty  (as  they  affirmed,) 
and  to  re-establish  his  rights,  the  Emperor 
his  brother-in-law,  the  King  of  Prussia  hia 
ally,  and  above  all.  his  brothers,  the  I*rin- 
ces  of  the  Blood  of  France,  were  in  arms, 
and  had  sent  numerous  armies  to  the  fron- 
tiers. It  was  scarcely  possible,  in  tlie  ut- 
most extent  of  candour,  that  the  French 
people  should  give  Louis  credit  for  desiring 
the  success  of  the  revolutionary  cause,  by 
which  not  only  his  power  had  been  circum- 
scribed, but  his  person  had  been  placed  un- 
der virtual  restraint,  against  forces  armed 
avowedly  for  his  safety  and  liberty,  as  well 
as  the  restoration  of  his  power.  W(!  cari 
allow  as  mucli  to  the  dismterestedness  of 
Louis,  as  to  any  whose  feelings  and  right* 
v/cre  immediately  concerned  with  the  point 
at  issue  4  and  we  admit  that  all  concession* 


Chap.  XII.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


119 


which  he  made  to  the  popular  cause,  be- 
fore the  National  Assembly  had  asserted  a 
paramount  authority  over  his,  were  willing- 
ly and  freely  granted.  But  after  the  march 
from  Versailles,  he  must  have  been  an  en- 
thusiast for  public  liberty  of  a  very  uncom- 
mon character,  if  we  could  suppose  him 
seriously  wishing  the  defeat  of  his  brothers 
and  allies,  and  the  victory  of  those  who 
had  deprived  him  first  of  authority,  and  then 
of  freedom. 

A  single  glance  at  his-situation  must  have 
convinced  the  people  of  France,  that  Louis 
could  scarcely  be  sincere  in  desiring  the 
continuance  of  the  system  to  which  he  had 
given  his  adhesion  as  a  sovereign  ;  and  the 
consciousness  that  they  could  not  expect 
confidence  where  they  themselves  had 
made  ungenerous  use  of  their  power,  added 
force  to  their  suspicions,  and  acrimony  to 
the  deep  resentments  which  arose  out  of 
them.  The  people  had  identified  them- 
selves and  their  dearest  interests  (riyht  or 
wrong,  it  signifies  little  to  the  result)  with 
the  Revolution,  and  with  the  increasing 
freedom  which  it  bestowed,  or  r?.thcr  prom- 
ised to  bestow,  in  every  succeeding  change. 
The  King,  who  had  been  tlie  regular  oppo- 
nent of  every  one  of  these  innovations,  was 
in  ccTisequence  regarded  as  the  natural  en- 
emy of  the  country,  who,  if  he  continued 
to  remain  at  the  helm  of  the  executive  gov- 
ernment, did  so  with  tlie  sole  view  of  run- 
ning the  vessel  upon  the  rocks. 

If  there  were  any  men  in  France  gener- 
ous enough  to  give  the  King  credit  for  com- 
plete good  faith  with  the  Constitutionalists, 
nis  flight  from  Paris,  and  the  manifestos 
which  he  left  behind  him,  protesting  against 
the  measures  in  which  lie  had  acquiesced, 
as  extorted  from  him  by  constraint,  gave 
open  pi  oof  of  Louis's  real  feelings.  It  is 
true,  the  King  denied  any  purpose  of  leav- 
ing the  kingdom,  or  throwing  himscll"  into 
the  hands  of  the  foreign  powers ;  but  it 
could  escape  no  one,  that  such  a  step,  how- 
ever little  it  was  calculated  upon  in  the  com- 
mencement of  his  flight,  might  very  easily 
have  become  inevitable  before  its  comple- 
tion. It  does  not  appear  from  the  beha- 
viour of  the  escorts  of  dragoons  and  hus- 
sars, that  there  was  any  attachment  among 
the  troops  to  the  King's  person ;  and  had 
tlie  mutiny  of  Bouille's  forces  against  that 
general's  authority  taken  place  after  the 
King  reached  the  camp,  the  only  safety  of 
Louis  must  have  been  in  a  retreat  into  the 
Austrian  territory.  This  chnnce  was  so  ev- 
ident, that  Bouille  iiimself  had  provided 
for  it.  by  requesting  that  the  Austrian  for- 
ces might  be  so  disposed  as  to  afibrd  tlie 
King  protection,  sliouKl  the  emergency  oc- 
cur. Whatever,  therefore,  might  be  the 
King's  first  e\periment,  the  point  to  which 
he  directed  his  flight  bore  out  those,  who 
■unposed  and  asserted  that  it  must  iiave  ul- 
timately tcrr.iinated  in  his  reunion  with  his 
brothers;  and  that  such  a  conclusion  must 
have  repeatedly  occurred  to  the  King's 
thoughts. 

But  if  the  King  was  doubted  and  suspect- 
ed before  he  gave  this  decisive  proof  of  his 
<liaincliaation  to  the  Constitution,  there  had 


surely  happened  nothing  in  the  course  of 
his  being  seized  at  Varennes,  or  the  circum- 
stances of  his  reception  at  Paris,  tending  t* 
reconcile  him  to  the  Constitutional  Crown, 
which  was  a  second  time  proffered  him,  ana 
which  he  again,  with  all  its  duties  ajid  acta 
of  self-denial,  solemnly  accepted. 

We  have  before  hinted,  that  the  Kind's 
assuming  of  new  the  frail  and  barren  scej>- 
tre,  proffered  to  him  under  the  most  humil- 
iating circumstances,  was  a  piece  of  indif- 
ferent policy.  There  occurred  almost  no 
course  of  conduct  by  which,  subjected  aa 
he  was  to  general  suspicion,  he  could  show 
himself  once  more  to  his  people  in  a  clear 
and  impartial  point  of  view — each  of  his 
measures  was  sure  to  be  tho  theme  of  the 
most  malignant  commentary.  If  his  con- 
duct assumed  a  popular  aspect,  it  was  ac- 
counted an  act  of  princelv  hypocrisy;  if  it 
was  like  his  opposition  to  the  departmental 
army,  it  would  have  been  held  as  intended 
to  weaken  the  defence  of  the  country ;  if 
it  rcseinbied  liis  rejection  of  the  decrees 
against  tlie  emigrants  and  refractory  priests, 
then  it  might  be  urged  as  inferring  a  direct 
intention ■fcf  bringing  back  the  old  despotia 
system. 

In  sliort,  all  confidence  was  lost  betweea 
the  sovereign  and  the  people,  from  a  con- 
currence of  unhappy  circumstances,  in 
which  it  would  certainly  be  unjust  to  cast 
the  blame  exclusively  on  either  party,  since 
there  existed  so  many  grounds  for  dis- 
trust and  misunderstanding  on  both  sides. 
The  noble  and  generous  confidence  which 
Frenchmen  had  been  wont  to  repose  in  th« 
personal  character  of  tlieir  monarch,  (that 
confidence,  which  the  probity  of  no  man 
cciild  deserve  more  than  that  of  Louis,) 
was  withered,  root  and  branch  ;  or  those  in 
whose  breasts  it  still  flourished  v.ere  ban- 
ished men,  and  had  carried  the  Oriflamme, 
and  the  ancient  spirit  of  French  chivalry, 
into  a  camp  I'.ot  her  own.  The  rest  of  the 
nation,  a  scattered  and  intimidated  remnant 
of  Royalists  excepted,  were  Constitutional- 
ists, wlio,  friends  rather  to  the  crown  than 
to  the  King  as  an  individual,  wished  to  pre- 
serve the  form  of  government,  but  without 
either  zeal  or  attachment  to  Louis  ;  or  Gi- 
rondists, who  detested  his  office  as  Repnb- 
licans  ;  or  Jacobins,  who  hated  his  person. 
Kvery  one,  therefore,  assailed  Louis ;  and 
it  was  held  enrolling  himself  amongst  aris- 
tocrats, the  most  avowed  and  hated  enemies 
of  the  new  order  of  things,  if  any  one  lifted 
a  voice  in  his  defence,  or  even  apology. 

To  this  the  influence  of  the  revolutionary 
clubs,  amounting  to  so  many  thousands, 
and  of  the  daily  press,  almost  the  only  kind 
of  literature  which  France  had  left,  added 
the  full  tribute  of  calumny  and  inculpation. 
The  Jacobins  attacked  the  person  of  tho 
King  from  the  very  commencement  of  the 
Revolution;  for  they  desired  that  Louis 
should  be  dethroned,  even  when  some 
amongst  them  were  leagued  for  placing  Or- 
leans in  his  room.  The  Girondists,  on  the 
contrary,  would  have  been  well  contented 
to  spare  the  person  of  Louis  ;  but  they  urg- 
ed arsument  after  argument  in  the  jour- 
nal which  they  directed,  against  the  royal 


120 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chop.  xn. 


office.  But  upon  the  whole,  the  King, 
whether  in  his  royal  or  personal  character, 
had  been  bo  long  and  Uniformly  calumniated 
and  misinterpreted,  that  through  most  parts 
of  France  he  was  esteemed  the  enemy 
whom  the  people  had  most  to  dread,  and 
whom  they  were  most  interested  to  get  rid 
of.  In  evidence  of  which  it  may  be  added, 
that  during  all  successive  changes  of  par- 
ties, for  the  next  year  or  two,  the  cliarge 
of  a  disposition  towards  royalty  was  always 
made  an  aggravation  of  the  accusations 
which  the  parties  brought  against  each  oth- 
er, amd  was  considered  as  so  necessary  an 
ingredient  of  the  charge,  that  it  was  not 
omitted  even  when  circumstances  rendered 
it  impossible. 

Both  partios  in  tlie  Convention  were  thus 
prepared  to  acquire  popularity,  by  gratify- 
ing the  almost  uni/ersal  prejudices. against 
monarchy,  and  against  the  Ring.  The  Gi- 
rondists, constant  to  the  Pvepublican  princi- 
ples they  entertained,  had  resolved  to  abol- 
ish the  throne  ;,  but  their  audacious  rivals 
were  prepared  to  go  a  step  beyond  them, 
by  gratifying  the  popular  spirit  of  venge- 
ance v.hich  tlieir  own  calumnies  had  in- 
creased to  such  a  pitch,  by  taking  the  life 
of  the  dethroned  monarch.  This  was  the 
great  national  crime  which  was  to  serve 
P'rance  for  a  republican  baptism",  and  which, 
once  committed,  was  to  be  regarded  as  an 
act  of  definite  and  deadly  ndliesion  to  the 
cau.ie  of  tl'.c  Re\olution.  But  not  content- 
ed %vith  taking  measures  for  the  death  of 
the  monarch,  this  desperate  but  active  fac- 
tion resolved  to  anticipate  their  rivals  in 
the  proposal  for  the  abolition  of  royalty. 

The  Girondists,  who  counted  much  on 
the  popularity  which  they  ^yere  to  attain 
by  this  favourite  measure,  were  so  far  from 
tearing  the  anticipation  of  tlie  Jacobins, 
that,  under  the  idea  of  Orleans  having 
some  interest  remaining  with  Danton  and 
others,  they  rather  expected  some  opposi- 
tion on  their  part.  But  what  was  their  sur- 
prise and  mortification  when*  Manuel 
arose,  and  demanded  tliat  the  first  proposal 
submitted  to  the  Convcnt'.f.n  should  be  the 
abolition  of  royalty!  Ere  the  Girondists 
could  recover  from  their  surprise,  Collot 
d'Herb  jis,  a  sorry  comedian,  who  had  been 
hissed  from  the  stage,  desired  the  motion 
to  be  instnntlv  put  to  the  vote.  The  Gi- 
rondists, anticipated  in  their  scheme,  had 
no  resource  left  but  to  be  clamorous  in  ap- 
plaudinij;  the  motion,  lest  their  hesitation 
bad  brought  their  republican  zeal  into  ques- 
tion. Thus  all  thev  could  do  was  but  to 
save  their  credit  with  tlie  popular  party,  at 
a  time  when  they  expected  to  increase  it 
to  such  a  licight.  Their  antagonists  had 
been  so  alert  as  to  steal  the  game  out  of 
thoir  h.-iiids. 

The  violence  with  which  the  various  or- 
ators expressed  themselves  against  monar- 
chy of  every  complexion,  and  kings  in  gen- 
oral,  wa-s  such  as  to  shov/,  either  that  they 
were  in  no  state  of  mind  composed  enough 
to  decide  on  a  great  national  measure,  or 
that  the  horrors  of  the  massacres,  scarce 


*  Slst  September,  1792. 


ten  days  remote,  impressed  on  them  the 
danger  of  being  lukewarm  in  the  cause  of 
the  sovereign  people,  who  were  not  %nly 
judges  without  resort,  but  the  prompt  exe- 
cutioners of  their  own  decrees. 

The  Abbe  Gregoire  declared,  that  the 
dynasties  of  kings  were  a  race  of  devouring 
animals,  who  fed  on  the  blood  of  the  peo- 
ple ;  and  that  kings  were  in  the  moral  order 
of  things  what  monsters  are  in  the  physic- 
al— that  courts  were  the  arsenals  of  Crimea, 
and  the  centre  of  corruption — and  that  the 
history  of  princes  was  the  martyrology  of 
the  people.  Finally,  tliat  all  the  members 
of  the  Convention,  being  fully  sensible  of 
these  self-evident  truths,  it  was  needless 
to  delay  even  kx  a  moment  the  vote  of  ab- 
olition, reserving  it  to  more  leisure  to  put 
their  declaration  into  better  form.  Ducoa 
exclaimed,  that  the  crimes  of  Louis  alone 
formed  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  abolition 
of  monarchy.  The  motion  was  received 
and  passed  unanimously  ;  and  each  side  of 
the  Hall,  anxious  to  manifest  their  share  in 
this  great  measure,  echoed  back  to  the  oili- 
er the  new  war-cry  of  Vivt  la  Republique  ! 
Thus  fell,  at  the  voice  of  a  wretched  play- 
er and  cut-throat,  backed  by  that  of  a  rene- 
gade priest,  the  most  ancient  and  most  dis- 
tinguished monarchy  of  Europe.  A  few 
remarks  may  be  permitted  upon  the  new 
government,  the  adoption  of  which  had 
been  welcomed  with  so  much  gratulation. 

It  has  been  said,  that  the  government 
which  is  best  administered  is  best.  This 
maxim  is  true  for  the  time,  but  for  the  time 
only  ;  as  good  administration  depends  often 
on  the  life  of  individuals,  or  other  circum- 
stances in  themselves  mutable.  One  would 
rather  incline  to  say,  that  the  government 
is  best  calculated  to  produce  the  happiness 
of  a  nation,  which  is  best  adapted  to  the 
existing  state  of  the  country  which  it  gov- 
erns, and  possesses  at  the  same  time  such 
internal  means  of  regeneration  as  may  ena- 
ble it  to  keep  pace  with  the  changes  of 
circumstances,  and  accommodate  itself  to 
the  unavoidable  alterations  which  must  oc- 
cur in  a  progressive  state  of  society.  In 
this  point  of  view,  and  even  in  the  patri- 
archal circle,  the  most  natural  for.n  of  gov- 
ernment, in  the  early  periods  of  society,  ars 
Monarchy,  or  a  Republic.  The  father  is 
head  of  his  own  family,  the  assembled 
council  of  the  fathers  governs  the  republic  ; 
or  the  patria  potestas  of  the  whole  state  ia 
bestowed  jpon  some  successful  warrior  or 
eminent  legislator,  who  becomes  king  of 
the  tribe.  But  a  republic,  in  the  literal  ac- 
ceptation, which  supposes  all  the  individu- 
als subject  to  its  government  to  be  consult- 
ed in  council  upon  all  afTairf.  of  the  public, 
cannot  survive  the  most  early  period  of 
existence.  It  is  only  to  be  found  around 
the  council-fire  of  a  North  American  tribe 
of  Indians  ;  and  even  there,  the  old  men 
forming  a  sort  of  senate,  have  already  es- 
tablished a  sort  of  aristocracy.  .\s  society 
advances,  and  tlie  little  state  extends  itiiclt', 
ordinary  matters  of  government  are  confid- 
ed to  delegates,  or  exclusively  grasped  by 
some  of  the  higher  orders  of  the  state. 
Rome,  when  she  dismissed  the  Tarquiiu, 


Chap.  Xn.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


121 


the  period  to  which  the  Girondists  were  i 
fond  of  assimilating  that  of  the  French  Rev- 
olution, had  already  its  privileged  body  of 
patricians,  its  senate,  from  which  were  ex- 
clusively chosen  the  consuls  ;  until  at  a 
later  period,  and  at  the  expense  of  many 
feuds  with  the  patricians,  the  plebeians  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  for  their  order  many 
advantages.  But  the  state  of  Rome  was 
not  more  republican,  in  the  proper  sense, 
than  before  these  concessions.  The  cor- 
porate citizens  of  Rome  were  indeed  ad- 
mitted into  some  of  the  privileges  of  the 
nobles ;  but  the  quantity  of  territory  and  of 
population  over  which  these  citizens  ex- 
tended their  dominion,  was  so  great,  that 
the  rural  and  unrepresented  part  of  the  in- 
habitants quite  outnumbered  that  of  the  cit- 
izens who  voted  in  the  Comitia,  and  consti- 
tuted the  source  of  authority.  There  was 
the  whole  body  of  slaves,  who  neither  were 
nor  could  be  represented,  being  considered 
by  the  law  as  no  farther  capable  of  political 
or  legal  rights,  than  a  herd  of  so  many  cat- 
tle j  and  there  were  tlie  numerous  and  ex- 
tensive dominions,  over  which,  under  the 
name  of  auxiliaries,  Rome  exercised  a  right 
of  absolute  sovereignty.  In  fact,  the  so 
called  democracy  was  rather  an  oligarchy, 
dispersed  more  widely  than  usual,  and  vest- 
ing the  government  of  an  immense  empire 
in  a  certain  limited  number  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Rome  called  citizens,  bearing  a  very 
sniall  proportion  in  bulk  to  the  gross  num- 
ber of  the  inhabitants.  These  privileged 
persons  in  some  degree  lived  upon  their 
votes  ; — the  ambitious  caressed  them,  fed 
them,  caught  their  eyes  with  magnificent 
exhibitions,  and  their  ears  with  extravagant 
eloquence,  and  by  corrupting  their  princi- 
ples, at  last  united  the  small  class  of  privi- 
leged citizens  themselves,  under  the  very 
bondage  in  which  they  had  long  kept  their 
extensive  empire.  There  is  no  one  period 
of  the  Roman  republic,  in  which  it  can  be 
said,  considering  the  number  of  the  persons 
governed  relatively  to  those  who  had  as 
citizens  a  share  of  that  government  by  vote, 
or  capacity  of  bearing  office,  that  the  peo- 
ple, as  a  whole,  were  fairly  and  fully  rep- 
resented. 

All  other  republics  of  which  we  have 
any  distinct  account,  including  the  cele- 
brated states  of  Greece,  were  of  so  small  a 
size,  that  it  was  by  no  means  difficult  to 
consult  the  citizens  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent in  the  affairs  of  the  state.  Still  this 
right  of  being  consulted  was  retained  among 
the  free  citizens  of  Greece.  Slaves,  who 
amounted  to  a  very  large  proportion  of  the 
inhabitants,  were  never  permitted  any  in- 
terference there,  more  than  in  Rome.  Now, 
as  it  was  by  slaves  that  the  coarser,  more 
debasing,  and  more  sordid  parts  of  the  la- 
bour of  the  community  were  performed, 
there  were  thus  excluded  from  the  privi- 
lege of  citizens  almost  all  those,  who,  by 
constant  toil,  and  by  the  sordid  character 
of  the  employments  to  which  their  fate 
condemned  them,  might  be  supposed  inca- 
pable of  exercising  political  rights  with  due 
feelings  of  reflection  and  of  independence. 
|t  is  not  too  much  to  say,  ia  conclusion, 
Vol.  I.  V 


that  excepting  in  the  earliest  stage  of  hu- 
man society,  there  never  existed  a  commu- 
nity, in  which  was  to  be  found  that  liberty 
and  equality,  which  the  French  claimed  fbr 
each  individual  in  the  whole  extent  of  their 
empire. 

Not  only  the  difficulty  or  impossibility 
of  assigning  to  every  person  in  France  an 
equal  portion  of  political  power,  was  one 
against  which  antiquity  had  never  attempt- 
ed to  struggle,  but  the  wealth  and  size  of 
the  French  empire  were  circumstances 
which  experience  induced  wise  statesmen 
to  conclude  against  the  favourable  issue  of 
the  experiment.  These  memorable  repub- 
lics, which  Montesquieu  compliments  with 
being  ibrraed  upon  virtue,  as  the  leading 
principle,  inhabited  the  modest  and  seques- 
tered habitations  where  virtue  is  most  often 
found.  In  mountainous  countries  like  those 
of  the  Swiss,  where  the  inhabitants  are 
nearly  of  the  same  rank,  and  not  very  much 
disproportioned  in  substance,  and  where 
they  inhabit  a  small  district  or  territory,  a 
republic  seems  the  most  natural  form  of 
government.  Nature  has  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent established  an  equality  among  the  fa- 
thers of  such  a  society,  and  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  policy  should  supplant  it.  In 
their  public  meetings,  they  come  togetlier 
upon  the  same  general  footing,  and  possess 
nearly  the  same  opportunity  of  forming  a 
judgment;  and  the  affairs  of  such  a  stat'j 
are  too  simple,  and  too  little  complicated, 
to  require  frequent  or  prolonged  discus 
sions.  The  same  applies  to  small  states 
like  Geneva,  and  some  of  the  Dutch  prov- 
inces, where  the  inequality  of  wealth,  if  it 
exists  in  some  instances,  is  qualified  by  the 
consideration,  that  it  is  gained  in  the  same 
honourable  pursuit  of  mercantile  traific, 
where  all  fortunes  are  founded  on  the  same 
commercial  system,  and  where  the  chance 
that  has  made  one  man  rich  yesterday,  may 
to-morrow  depress  him  and  raise  another. 
Under  such  favorable  circumstances,  re- 
publics may  exist  long  and  happily,  provid- 
ing they  can  prevent  luxury  from  working 
the  secret  dissolution  of  their  moral  princi- 
ples, or  the  exterior  force  of  more  powerful 
neighbours  from  swallowing  up  their  little 
community  in  the  rage  of  conquest. 

America  must  certainly  be  accounted  a 
successful  attempt  to  estiiblish  a  republic 
on  a  much  larger  scale  than  those  we  have 
mentioned.  But  that  great  and  flounshirifr 
empire  consists,  it  mut-.t  be  remembered,  of 
a  federative  union  of  many  slates,  which, 
though  extensive  in  territory,  are  compara- 
tively thin  in  occupants.  There  do  not  ex- 
ist in  America,  in  the  sdme  degree,  those 
circumstances  of  a  dense  ^nd  degraded  pop- 
ulation, which  occasion  in  the  old  nation-i 
of  Europe  such  an  infinite  difference  of 
knowledge  and  ignorance,  of  wealth  the 
most  exuberant,  and  indigence  the  most 
horrible.  No  man  in  America  need  he  poor, 
if  he  has  a  hatchet  r.nd  anna  to  use  it.  The 
wilderness  is  to  him  the  same  retreat  whicli 
the  world  afforded  to  our  first  parents.  His 
family,  if  he  has  one.  is  wealth;  if  he  is 
unencumbered  with  wife  or  children,  he  is 
the  more  easily  provided  for.    A  maa  who 


122 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XII. 


wisiies  to  make  a  large  fortune,  may  be  dis- 
appointed in  America  ;  but  he  who  seeks, 
With  a  moderate  degree  of  industry,  but  the 
wants  which  nature  demands,  is  certain  to 
fifid  them.  An  immense  proportion  of  the 
population  of  the  United  States  consists  of 
agriculturalists,  who  live  upon  tiieir  own 
property,  which  is  generally  of  moderate 
extent,  and  cultivated  by  their  own  labour. 
Such  a  situation  is  peculiarly  favourable  to 
republican  habits.  The  man  who  feels 
himself  really  independent, — and  so  must 
each  American  who  can  use  a  spade  or  an 
axe, — will  please  himself  with  the  mere 
exertion  of  his  free-will,  and  form  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  hollowing,  bawling,  bluster- 
ing rabble  of  a  city,  where  a  dram  of  liquor, 
or  the  money  to  buy  a  meal,  is  sure  to  pur- 
chase the  acclamation  of  thousands,  whose 
situation  in  the  scale  of  society  is  too  low 
to  permit  their  thinking  of  their  political 
right  as  a  thing  more  valuable  than  to  be 
bartered  against  the  degree  of  advantage 
tliey  may  procure,  or  of  license  which  they 
may  exercise,  by  placing  it  at  the  disposal 
of  one  candidate  or  another. 

Above  all,  before  considering  the  case 
of  America  as  parallel  with  that  of  France, 
the  statesmeB  of  the  latter  country  should 
have  observed  one  great  and  radical  differ- 
ence. In  America,  after  the  great  change 
in  their  system  had  been  effected  by  shak- 
ing off  the  sovereignty  of  the  mother  coun- 
try, the  States  arranged  their  new  govern- 
ment so  as  to  make  the  least  possible  alter- 
ation in  the  habits  of  their  people.  They 
left  to  future  and  more  convenient  opportu- 
nity, what  farther  innovations  this  great 
uiiange  might  render  necessary  ;  being 
more  desirous  to  fix  the  general  outlines  of 
a  firm  and  orderly  government,  although 
containing  some  anomalies,  than  to  cast  all 
existing  authorities  loose,  in  order  that  they 
might  produce  a  constitution  more  regular 
in  theory,  but  far  less  likely  to  be  put  into 
effectual  execution,  than  those  old  forms 
under  which  the  people  had  grown  up,  and 
to  which  they  were  accustomed  to  render 
regular  obedience.  They  abolished  no  no- 
bility, for  they  had  none  in  the  Colonies  to 
abolish  ;  but  in  fixing  the  basis  of  their  con- 
stitution, they  balanced  the  force  and  im- 
pulse of  the  representative  body  of  the 
States  by  a  Senate,  designed  to  serve  the 
purposes  answered  by  the  House  of  Lords 
in  the  British  Constitution.  The  govern- 
ors of  the  different  States  also,  in  whose 
power  the  executive  government  of  each  was 
reposed,  continued  to  exercise  the  same  du- 
ties as  before,  without  much  other  chann;o, 
than  that  they  were  named  by  their  fellow- 
citizens,  instead  of  being  appointed  by  the 
sovereign  of  the  mother  country.  The 
Congress  exercised  the  rights  which  suc- 
cess had  given  them  over  the  loyalists, 
with  as  much  temperance  as  could  be  ex- 
pected after  the  rage  of  a  civil  war.  Above 
all,  the  mass  of  the  American  population 
was  in  a  sound  healthy  state,  and  well  fit- 
ted to  bear  their  share  in  the  exercise  of 
political  rights.  They  were  independent, 
as  we  have  noticed,  and  had  comparatively 
fewiastancee  amongst  them  of  great  wealth, 


contrasted  with  the  most  degrading  indi- 
gence. They  were  deeply  imbued  with  a 
sense  of  religion,  and  the  morality  which  is 
its  fruit.  They  had  been  brought  up  under 
a  free  government,  and  in  the  exercise  of 
the  rights  of  freemen  5  and  their  fancies 
were  not  liable  to  be  excited,  or  their  un- 
derstandings made  giddy,  with  a  sudden  el- 
evation to  privileges,  the  nature  of  which 
was  unknown  to  them.  The  republic  of 
America,  moreover,  did  not  consist  of  one 
huge  and  populous  country,  with  an  over- 
grown capital,  where  the  Legislative  Body, 
cooped  up  in  its  precincts  like  prisoners, 
were  liable  to  be  acted  upon  by  the  ap- 
plauses or  threats  of  a  desperate  rabble. 
Kach  state  of  America  carries  on  its  own 
immediate  government,  and  enjoys  unmo- 
lested the  privilege  of  adopting  such  plans 
as  are  best  suited  to  their  own  peculiar  sit- 
uation, without  embarrassing  themselves 
with  that  ideal  uniformity,  that  universal 
equality  of  rights,  which  it  was  the  vain 
object  of  the  French  Constituent  Assem- 
bly to  establish.  The  Americans  know 
that  the  advantage  of  a  constitution,  like 
that  of  a  garment,  consists,  neither  in 
the  peculiarity  of  the  fashion,  nor  in  the 
fineness  of  the  texture,  but  in  its  being  well 
adapted  to  tlie  person  w!io  receives  pro- 
tection from  it.  In  short,  the  sagacity  of 
Washington  was  not  more  apparent  in  his 
military  exploits,  than  in  the  manly  and 
wise  pause  which  he  made  in  the  march  of 
revolution,  so  soon  as  peace  gave  an  oppor- 
tunity to  interrupt  its  impulse.  To  replace 
law  and  social  order  upon  an  established 
basis,  was  as  much  the  object  of  this  great 
general,  as  it  seems  to  have  been  that  of 
the  statesmen  of  Paris,  civilians  as  they 
were,  to  protract  a  period  of  insurrection, 
murder,  and  revolutionary  tyranny. 

To  such  peculiarities  and  advantages  as 
those  we  have  above  stated,  France  oppos- 
ed a  direct  contrast.  Not  only  was  the  ex- 
orbitant influence  of  such  a  capital  as  Paris 
a  bar  to  the  existence  of  that  republican 
virtue  which  is  the  essence  of  a  popular 
form  of  government,  but  there  was  nothing 
like  fixed  or  settled  principles  in  the  minds 
of  the  people  of  France  at  large.  Every- 
thing had.  within  the  last  few  years,  been 
studiously  and  industriously  altered  from 
the  most  solemn  rites  of  the  Church  of 
Koine,  to  the  most  trifling  article  of  dress  ; 
from  the  sacrament  of  the  mass  to  the  fash- 
ion of  a  shoe-tie.  Religion  was  entirely 
out  of  the  question,  and  the  very  slightest 
vestiges  of  an  est:i!jlished  church  were 
about  to  be  demolished.  Republican  vir- 
tue (with  the  exception  of  that  of  the  sol-. 
diers.  whose  valour  did  honour  to  the  name) 
consisted  in  wearing  a  coarse  dress  and 
foul  linen,  swearing  the  most  vulgar  oaths, 
obeying  without  scruple  the  most  villain- 
ous mandates  of  the  Jacobin  Club,  and  as- 
suming the  title,  manner,  and  sentiments 
of  a  real  saus-culotte.  The  country  was 
besides  divided  into  an  infinite  variety  of 
factions,  and  threatened  with  the  plague  of 
civil  war.  The  streets  of  the  metropolis 
had  been  lately  the  scene  of  a  desperate 
conflict,  and  yet  morp  recently  of  a  (tonl* 


Chap.  A'//.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


123 


ble  massacre.  On  the  frontiers,  the  coun- 
try was  pressed  by  armies  of  invaders.  It 
was  a  crisis  in  which  the  Romans,  with  all 
their  love  of  freedom,  would  have  called 
in  the  asr'stance  of  a  Dictator  ;  yet  it  was 
then,  when,  without  regarding  either  the 
real  wants  of  the  country,  or  the  temper 
of  its  inhabitants,  France  was  erected  into 
a  Republic,  a  species  of  government  the 
most  inconsistent  with  energetic,  secret, 
and  successful  councils. 

These  considerations  could  not  have  es- 
caped the  Girondists.  Neither  could  they 
be  blind  to  the  fact,  that  each  republic, 
whatever  its  pretensions  to  freedom,  has 
committed  to  some  high  officer  of  the  state, 
under  the  name  of  Doge,  Stadtholder,  Pres- 
ident, or  other  title,  the  custody  of  the  ex- 
ecutive power  ;  from  the  obvious  and  unde- 
niable principle,  that,  with  safety  to  free- 
dom, it  cannot  be  lodged  in  the  hands  of 
the  Legislative  Body.  But  knowing  this  to 
be  the  case,  they  dared  not  even  hint  that 
such  a  separation  of  powers  was  indispensa- 
ble, aware  that  their  fierce  enemies,  the  Jac- 
obins, while  they  would  have  seized  on  the 
office  without  scruple,  would,  with  the  oth- 
er hand,  sign  an  accusation  of  leze-nation 
against  them  for  proposing  it.  Thus  crude, 
raw,  and  ill-considered,  did  one  of  the  most 
important  changes  that  could  be  wrought 
upon  a  country,  pass  as  hastily  through  this 
Legislative  Body  as  the  change  of  a  decora- 
tion in  the  theatre. 

The  alteration  was,  notwithstanding, 
hailed  by  the  community  at  large,  as  the 
consummation  of  the  high  fortunes  to  which 
France  was  called.  True,  half  Europe  was 
in  arms  at  her  gates — but  the  nation  who  op- 
posed their  swords  to  them  were  become 
republicans.  True,  the  most  frightful  dis- 
order had  stalked  abroad,  in  the  shape  of 
armed  slaughter — it  was  but  the  efferves- 
cence and  delirium  of  a  republican  con- 
sciousness of  freedom.  Peculation  had 
crept  into  the  finance,  and  theft  had  finger- 
ed the  diamonds  of  the  state — but  the  name 
of  a  republic  was  of  itself  sufficient  to  re- 
store to  the  blackest  Jacobin  of  the  gang, 
the  moral  virtues  of  a  Cincinnatus.  The 
mere  word  Republic  was  now  the  universal 
medicine  for  all  evils  which  France  could 
complain  of,  and  its  regenerating  opera- 
tions were  looked  for  with  as  much  faith 
and  confidence,  as  if  the  salutary  effects  of 
the  convocation  of  the  Estates  of  the  King- 
dom, once  worshipped  as  a  panacea  with 
similar  expectations,  had  not  deceived  the 
hopes  of  the  country. 

Meantime,  the  actors  in  the  new  drama 
began  to  play  the  part  of  Romans  with  the 
most  ludicrous  solemnity.  The  name  of 
citizen  was  now  the  universal  salutation  to 
all  classes  -,  even  when  a  deputy  spoke  to  a 
shoe-black,  that  fond  symbol  of  equality 
was  regulEU-lv  exchanged  betwixt  them ; 
and,  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  society, 
there  was  the  most  ludicrous  affectation  of 
Renublican  brevity  and  simplicity.  "  When 
you  conquer  Brussels,"  said  CoUot  d'Her- 
bois,  the  actor,  to  General  Dumouriez, 
"  my  wife,  who  is  in  that  city,  has  my  per- 
mission to  reward  you  with  a  kiss,"    The 


I  general  was  ungallant  enough  not  to  profit 
by  this  flattering  permission.  His  quick 
wit  caught  the  ridicule  of  such  an  ejacula- 
tion as  that  which  Camus  addressed  to  him  : 
"  Citizen  General,''  said  the  deputy,  "thou 
dost  meditate  the  part  of  Caesar  3  but  re- 
member I  will  be  Brutus,  and  plunge  a 
poniard  in  your  bosom." — "My  dear  Ca- 
mus," said  the  lively  soldier,  who  had  been 
in  worse  dangers  than  were  involved  in  this 
classical  threat,  '•  I  am  no  more  like  Caesar 
than  you  are  like  Brutus  •,  and  an  assurance 
that  I  should  live  till  you  kill  me,  would  be 
equal  to  a  brevet  of  immortality." 

With  a  similar  assumption  of'  republican 
dignity,  men  graced  their  children,  baptiz- 
ed or  unbaptized,  with  the  formidable  names 
of  Roman  heroes,  and  the  folly  of  Anachar- 
sis  Klootz  seemed  to  become  general 
throughout  the  nation. 

Republican  virtues  were  of  course  adopt- 
ed or  affected.  The  duty  of  mothers  nurs- 
ing their  own  children,  so  eloquently  in- 
sisted on  by  Rousseau,  and  nevertheless  so 
difficult  to  practise  under  the  forms  of  mod- 
ern life,  was  generally  adopted  in  Paris, 
and  as  the  ladies  had  no  idea  that  this  pro- 
cess of  parental  attention  was  to  interferp 
with  the  usual  round  of  entertainment,  mo- 
thers, with  their  infants  dressed  in  the  most 
approved  Roman  costume,  were  to  be  seen 
at  the  theatre,  with  the  little  disastrous  vic- 
tims of  republican  affectation,  whose  wail- 
ings,  as  well  as  other  embarrassments  oc- 
casioned by  their  presence,  formed  some- 
times disagreeable  interruptions  to  the 
amusements  of  the  evening,  and  placed  tho 
inexperienced  matrons  in  an  awkward  situ- 
ation. 

These  were  follies  to  be  laughed  at.  But 
when  men  read  Livy,  for  the  sake  of  dis- 
covering what  degree  of  private  crime  might 
be  committed  under  the  mask  of  public  vir- 
tue, the  affair  became  more  serious.  The 
deed  of  the  younger  Brutus  served  any  man 
as  an  apology  to  betray  to  ruin  and  to  death 
a  friend,  or  a  patron,  whose  patriotism 
might  not  be  of  the  pitch  which  suited  the 
time.  Under  the  example  of  the  elder 
Brutus,  the  nearest  ties  of  blood  were  re- 
peatedly made  to  give  way  before  the  fe- 
rocity of  party  zeal — a  zeal  too  often  as- 
sumed for  the  most  infamous  and  selfish 
purposes.  As  some  fanatics  of  vore  studied 
the  Old  Testament  for  the  purpose  of  find- 
ing examples  of  bad  actions  to  vindicate 
those  which  themselves  were  tempted  to 
commit,  so  the  repirl)licans  of  France,  we 
mean  the  desperate  and  outrageous  bigVits 
of  the  Revolution,  read  history,  to  justify, 
by  classical  instances,  their  public  and  pri- 
vate crimes.  Informers,  those  scourges  of 
a  state,  were  encouraged  to  a  degree  scar-^e 
known  in  ancient  Rome  in  the  time  of  the 
Emperors,  though  Tacitus  has  huiled  bin 
thunders  against  them,  as  the  poison  and 
pest  of  his  time.  Th-^  duty  of  lodging  such 
informations  was  unblushingly  urged  as  in- 
dispensable. The  safety  of  the  Republic 
being  the  supreme  charge  of  every  citizen, 
he  was  on  no  account  to  hesitate  in  ite- 
nouncing,  as  it  was  termed,  anyone  whom- 
soever,  or  howsoever  connected  with  hiaiy 


i-24 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUOJNAFARTE. 


— the  I'rieiid  of  Ms  counsels,  o;-  the  wife  of 
ins  bosom, — providing  lie  had  reason  to  sus- 
pect tliu  devoted  individual  of  the  crime  of 
inciviimi, — a  crime  the  more  mysteriously 
dreadful,  that  no  one  knew  exactly  its  na- 
ture. 

The  virtue,  even  of  comparatively  good 
men.  gave  way  under  the  temptations  held 
out  by  these  fearful  innovations  on  the 
state  of  morals.  The  Girondists  them- 
selves did  not  scruple  to  avail  themselves 
of  the  villainy  of  others,  when  what  they 
called  the  cause  of  the  country,  in  reality 
that  of  their  own  faction,  could  be  essen- 
tially served  by  it ;  but  it  was  reserved  for 
the  Jacobins  to  carry  to  the  most  hideous 
extremity  the  principle  which  made  an  ex- 
clusive idol  of  patriotism,  and  demanded 
that  every  other  virtue,  as  well  as  the  most 
tender  and  honourable  dictates  of  feeling 
and  conscience,  should  be  offered  up  at 
the  shrine  of  the  Republic,  as  children  were 
of  old  made  to  pass  through  the  fire  to  Mo- 
loch. 

Another  eruption  of  republican  zeal  was 
directed  against  the  antiquities,  and  fine 
arts  of  France.  The  name  of  King  being 
pronounced  detestable,  all  the  remembran- 
ces of  royalty  were  to  be  destroyed.  The 
task  was  committed  to  the  rabble ;  and  al- 
though a  work  dishonourable  to  their  em- 
ployers, and  highly  detrimental  both  to  his- 
tory and  the  fine  arts,  it  was  nevertheless 
infinitely  more  harmless  than  those  in 
which  the  same  agents  had  been  lately  em- 
ployed. The  royal  sepulchres  at  Saint  De- 
nis, near  Paris,  the  ancient  cemetery  of  the 
Bourbons,  the  Valois,  and  all  the  long  line 
of  French  monarchs,  were  not  only  defac- 
ed on  the  outside,  but  utterly  broken  down, 
the  bodies  exposed,  the  bones  dispersed, 
and  the  poor  remains,  even  of  Henry  IV. 
of  Navarre,  so  long  the  idol  of  the  French 
nation,  exposed  to  the  rude  gaze,  and  irrev- 
erent grasp,  of  the  banditti  who  commit- 
ted the  sacrilege. 

Le  Noire,  an  artist,  had  the  courage  to 
interpose  for  preventing  the  total  disper- 
sion of  the  materials  of  those  monuments, 
80  valuable  to  history  and  to  literature.  He 
procured,  with  difficulty,  permission  to  pre- 
serve and  collect  them  in  a  house  and 
garden  in  the  Rue  des  Petits  Augustins, 
where  their  mutilated  remains  continued  in 
safety  till  after  the  Restoration  of  the  Bour- 
bons. The  enterprise  was  accomplished  at 
much  personal  risk ;  for  if  the  people  he 
had  to  deal  with  had  suspected  that  the  zeal 
which  he  testified  for  the  preservation  of 
the  monuments,  was  rather  that  of  a  royal- 
ist than  of  an  antiquary,  his  idolatry  would 
have  been  punished  by  instant  death. 

But  the  demolition  of  those  .ancient  and 
sacred  monuments  was  comparatively  a 
trivial  mode  of  showing  hatred  to  royalty. 
The  vengeance  of  the  Republicans  was 
directed  against  the  emigrants,  who,  armed 
or  unarmed,  or  from  whatever  cause  they 
were  absent  from  France,  were  now  to  be 
at  once  confounded  in  a  general  set  of  de- 
crees. 1.  All  emigrants  taken  in  arms  were 
to  suffer  death  within  twenty-four  hours. 
2.  Foreigners  who  had  quitted  the  service 


[Chap.  XII. 

of  France  since  the  Mth  July  1789,  were, 
contrary  to  the  law  of  nations,  subjected  to 
the  same  penalty.  3.  .All  emigrants  who 
had  sought  refuge  in  foreign  parts,  were 
banished  for  ever  from  their  native  coun- 
try, without  any  distinction,  or  inquiry  into 
the  cause  of  their  absence.  The  effects  of 
these  unfortunate  exiles  were  already  under 
sequestration,  and  by  the  assignats  which 
were  issued  on  the  strength  of  Kiis  spolia- 
tion, Cambon,  who  managed  the  finances, 
carried  on  the  war,  and  supplied  the  expen- 
ses of  government. 

The  emigrants  who  had  fled  abroad,  were 
not  more  severely  treated  than  those  sup- 
posed to  share  their.sentiments  who  had  re- 
mained at  home.  Persons  suspected,  from 
whatever  cause,  or  denounced  by  private 
malice  as  disinclined  to  the  new  system, 
were  piled  anew  into  the  prisons,  which 
had  been  emptied  on  the  2d  and  3d  of  Sep- 
tember, and  where  the  blood  of  their  pred- 
ecessors in  misfortune  was  yet  visible  on 
the  walls.  The  refractory  priests  were  par- 
ticularly the  objects  of  this  species  of  op- 
pression, and  at  length  a  summary  decree 
was  made  for  transporting  them  in  the  masa 
from  the  land  of  France  to  the  unhealthy 
colony  of  Guiana,  in  South  America.  Many 
of  these  unfortunate  men  came  to  a  more 
speedy  fate. 

But  the  most  august  victims  destined  to 
be  sacrificed  at  the  altar  of  republican  vir- 
tue, were  the  royal  family  in  the  Temple, 
whose  continuing  in  existence  seemed, 
doubtless,  to  the  leaders,  a  daily  reproach 
to  their  procrastination,  and  an  object  to 
which,  when  the  present  spirit  should 
abate,  the  affections  of  the  bewildered  peo- 
ple might  return  with  a  sort  of  re-action. 
The  Jacobins  resolved  that  Louis  should 
die,  were  it  only  that  the  world  might  see 
they  were  not  ashamed  to  attest,  with  a 
bloody  seal,  the  truth  of  the  accusations 
they  had  brought  against  him. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  every  rea- 
son to  hope  that  the  Girondists  would  ex- 
ert, in  protection  of  the  unhappy  prince, 
whatever  vigour  they  derived  from  their 
predominating  influence  in  the  Convention. 
They  were,  most  of  them,  men,  whose  phi- 
losophy, though  it  had  driven  them  on  wild 
political  speculations,  had  not  destroyed  the 
sense  of  moral  right  and  wrong,  especially 
now  that  the  struggle  was  ended  betwixt 
monarchy  and  democracy,  and  the  only 
question  remaining  concerned  the  use  to  be 
made  of  their  victory.  Although  they  had 
aided  the  attack  on  the  Tuilleries,  on  the 
10th  of  August,  which  they  considered  as  a 
combat,  their  hands  were  unstained  with 
the  massacres  of  September,  which,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  they  urged  as  an  atro- 
cious crime  against  their  rivals,  the  Jaco- 
bins. Besides,  they  had  gained  the  prize, 
and  were  in  possession  of  the  government - 
and,  like  the  (Constitutionalists  before  them 
the  Girondists  now  desired  that  here,  a 
length,  the  revolutionary  career  should  ter 
minate,  and  that  the  ordinary  forms  of  lap 
and  justice  should  resume  their  usual  chan- 
nels through  France  ;  yielding  to  the  peo- 
ple proteQtion  for  life,  personal  iibertj,  anil 


Chap.  XIl] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


125 


private  property,  and  affording  themselves, 
who  held  the  reins  of  government,  the 
means  of  guiding  them  honourably,  safely, 
and  with  advantage  to  fhe  community. 

The  philosophical  statesmen,  upon  whom 
these  considerations  were  not  lost,  felt 
nevertheless  great  embarrassment  in  the 
mode  of  interposing  their  protection  in  the 
King's  favour.  Their  republicanism  was 
the  feature  on  which  they  most  prided 
themselves.  They  delighted  to  claim  the 
share  in  the  downfall  of  Louis,  which  was 
due  to  their  colleagues  Barbaroux,  and  tlie 
Federates  of  Marseilles  and  Brest.  It  was 
upon  their  accession  to  this  deed  that  the 
Girondists  rested  their  claims  to  populari- 
ty ;  and  with  what  front  could  they  now 
step  forward  the  defenders,  at  the  least  the 
apologists,  of  the  King  whom  they  had 
aided  to  dethrone  ;  or  what  advantages 
would  not  the  Jacobins  obtain  over  them, 
when  they  represented  them  to  the  people 
as  lukewarm  in  their  zeal,  and  as  falling 
off  from  the  popular  cause,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve the  life  of  the  dethroned  tyrant  ? 
The  Girondist  ministers  felt  these  embar- 
rassments, and  suffered  themselves  to  be 
intimidated  by  them  from  making  any  open, 
manly,  and  direct  interference  in  the  King's 
cause. 

A  woman,  and,  although  a  woman,  not  the 
least  distinguished  among  the  Girondist 
party,  had  the  courage  to  urge  a  decisive 
and  vigorous  defence  of  the  unliappy 
Prince,  without  having  recourse  to  the  veil 
of  a  selfish  and  insidious  policy.  This  was 
the  wife  of  Roland,  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable women  of  her  time.  A  worthless, 
at  least  a  careless  father,  and  the  doating 
folly  of  her  mother,  had  left  her  when 
young  to  pick  out  such  an  education  as  she 
could,  among  the  indecencies  and  impieties 
of  French  philosophy.  Yet,  though  her 
Memoirs  afford  revolting  specimens  of  in- 
delicacy, and  exaggerated  sentiments  in 
politics,  it  cannot  be  denied  ihat  the  tenor 
of  her  life  was  innocent  and  virtuous  in 
practice,  and  her  sentiments  unperverted, 
when  left  to  their  natural  course.  She  saw 
the  great  question  in  its  true  and  real  posi- 
tion ;  she  saw,  that  it  was  only  by  interpos- 
ing themselves  betwixt  the  Legislative 
Body  of  France  and  the  commission  of  a 
great  crime,  that  the  Girondists  could 
either  remain  firm  in  the  government,  at- 
tract the  confidence  of  honest  men  of  any 
description,  or  have  the  least  chance  of 
putting  a  period  to  the  anarchy  which  was 
devouring  their  country.  "  Save  the  life 
of  Louis,"  she  said  ;  "  save  him  by  an  open 
and  avowed  defence.  It  is  the  only  meas- 
ure that  can  assure  your  safety — the  only 
course  which  can  fix  the  stamp  of  public 
virtue  on  your  government."  Those  whom 
she  addressed  listened  with  admiration  ; 
but,  like  one  who  has  rashly  climbed  to  a 
height  where  his  brain  grows  giddy,  they 
felt  their  own  situation  too  tottering  to  per- 
mit their  reaching  a  willing  hand  to  support 
another,  who  was  in  still  more  imminent 
peril. 

Their  condition  was  indeed  precarious. 
A  large  party  in  the  Convention  avowedly 


supported  them  ;  and  in  the  Plain,  as  it 
was  called,  a  position  held  by  deputies  af- 
fecting independence,  both  of  the  Giron- 
dists and  the  Jacobins,  and  therefore  occu- 
pying the  neutra  ground  betwixt  them, 
sate  a  large  number,  who,  from  the  timidity 
of  temper  which  makes  sheep  and  other 
weak  animals  herd  together  in  numbers, 
had  formed  themselves  iiito  a  faction,  which 
could  at  any  time  cast  decision  into  either 
scale  which  they  favoured.  But  they  ex- 
ercised this  power  of  inclining  the  balance 
less  with  a  view  to  carrying  any  political 
point,  than  with  that  of  securing  their  own 
safety.  In  ordinary  debates,  they  usually 
gave  their  votes  to  the  ministers,  both  be- 
cause they  were  ministers,  and  also  because 
the  milder  sentiments  of  the  Girondists 
were  more  contjenial  to  the  feelings  of  men, 
who  would  gladly  have  seen  peace  and  or- 
der restored.  But  then  'hese  timid  mem- 
bers of  the  Plain  also  assiduously  courted 
the  Jacobins,  avoided  joining  in  any  meas- 
ure which  should  give  them  mortal  offence, 
and  purchased  a  sort  of  immunity  from  their 
revenge^  by  showing  plainly  that  they  de- 
served only  contempt.  In  this  neutral  party 
the  gleanings  of  the  defeated  factions  of 
Moderates  and  of  Constitutionalists  were 
chiefly  to  be  found ;  resigning  themselves 
to  the  circumstances  of  the  moment,  con- 
sulting their  own  safety  as  they  gave  their 
votes,  and  waiting,  perhaps,  till  less  disor- 
derly days  might  restore  to  them  the  privi- 
lege of  expressing  their  actual  sentiments. 
The  chief  of  tliese  trucklers  to  fortune 
was  Barrere,  a  man  of  wit  and  eloquence, 
prompt  invention,  supple  opinions,  and 
convenient  conscience.  His  terror  of  the 
Jacobins  was  great,  and  his  mode  of  dis 
arming  their  resentment,  so  far  as  he  and 
the  neutral  party  were  concerned,  was  of- 
ten very  ingenious.  When  by  argument 
or  by  eloquence  the  Girondists  had  obtain- 
ed some  triumph  in  the  Assembly,,  which 
seemed  to  reduce  their  adversaries  to  de- 
spair, it  was  then  Barrere,  and  the  members 
of  the  Plain,  threw  themselves  between 
the  victors  and  vanquished,  and,  by  some 
proposal  of  an  insidious  and  neutralizing 
nature,  prevented  the  completion  of  the 
conquest,  and  afforded  a  safe  retreat  to  the 
defeated. 

The  majorities,  therefore,  which  the  Gi- 
rondists obtained  in  the  Assembly,  being 
partly  eked  out  by  this  heartless  and  fluctuat- 
ing band  of  auxiliaries,  could  never  be  sup- 
posed to  arm  them  with  solid  or  effective  au- 
thority. It  was  absolutely  necessary  that 
they  should  exhibit  such  a  power  of  pro- 
tecting themselves  and  those  who  should 
join  them,  as  might  plainly  show  that  the 
force  was  on  their  side.  This  point  once 
established,  they  migh',  reckon  Barrere  and 
his  party  as  faithful  adherents.  But  while 
the  Jacobins  retained  the  power  of  sur- 
rounding the  Convention  at  their  pleasure 
with  an  insurrection  of  the  suburbs,  with- 
out the  deputies  possessing  other  means  of 
defence  than  arose  out  of  their  inviolability, 
the  adherence  of  those  whose  chief  object 
in  voting  was  to  secure  their  personal  safe- 
ty, was  neither  to  be  hoped  nor  expected. 


126 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XII. 


The  Girondists,  therefore,  looked  anxiously 
round,  to  secure,  if  it  were  possible,  tlie 
possession  of  such  a  force,  to  protect  them- 
selves and  their  timorous  allies. 

It  has  been  thought,  that  a  more  active, 
more  artful   body    of   ministers,  and  who 
were  better  acquainted  vtfith  the  mode  of 
carrying  on  revolutionary  movements,  might 
at  this  period  have  secured  an  important 
auxiliary,  by  detaching  the  formidable  Dan- 
ton  from  the  ranks  of  the  enemy,  and  re- 
ceiving him   into  their  own.     It   must   be 
observed,  that  the  camp  of  the  Jacobins 
contained  three   separate  parties,  led  each 
by  one  of  the  triumvirs  whom  we  have  al- 
ready described,  and  acting  in  concert,  for 
the  common  purpose  of  propelling  the  Rev- 
olution by  the   same  violent  means  which 
had  begun  it — of  unsheathing  the  sword  of 
terror,  and  making  it  pass  for  that  of  justice 
— and,   in  the  name   of  liberty,  of  letting 
murder  and  spoil,  under  the   protection  of 
armed  ruffians  of  the  basest  condition,  con- 
tinue to  waste  and  ravage  the  departments 
of  France.      But  although  agreed  in  this 
main  object,  the  triumvirs  were  extremely 
suspicious  of  each  other,  and  jealous  of  the 
rights  each  might  claim  in  the  spoil  which 
they  contemplated.     Danton  despised  Ro- 
bespierre  for   his  cowardice,    Robespierre 
feared  the  ferocious  audacity  of  Danton  ; 
and  with  him  to  fear  was  to  hate — and  to 
hate  was — when  the  hour  arrived — to  de- 
stroy.    They  differed  in  their  ideas  also  of 
the  mode  of  exercising  their  terrible  sys- 
tem of  go"fernment.     Danton  had  often  in 
his  mouth  the  sentence  of  Machiavel,  that 
when  it  becomes  necessary  to  shed  blood, 
a  single  great  massacre  has  a  more  dread- 
ful effect  than  a  series  of  successive  execu- 
tions.    Robespierre,  on  the  contrary,  pre- 
ferred the  latter  process  as  the  best  way  of 
sustaining  the  reign  of  terror.    The  appe- 
tite of  Marat  could  not  be  satiated  but  by 
combining  both  modes  of  murder.     Both 
Danton  and  Robespierre  kept  aloof  from  the 
sanguinary  Marat.     This  position   of  the 
chiefs  of  the  Jacobins  towards  each  other, 
seemed  to  indicate,  that  one  of  the  three 
at  least  might  be  detached  from  the  rest, 
and  might  bring  his   ruffians  in  opposition 
to  those  of  his  late  comrades,  in  case  of 
any  attempt  on  the  Assembly  ;   and  poli- 
cy recommended  Danton,  not  averse,  it  is 
said,  to  the  alliance,  as  the  most  useful 
auxiliary. 
Among  the  three  monsters  mentioned, 
.    Danton  had  that  energy  which  the  Giron- 
I     dists  wanted,  and  was  well  acquainted  with 
I      the   secret  movements  of  those   insurrec- 
'      tions  to  which  they  possessed  no  key.    His 
vices  of  wrath,  luxury,  love  of  spoil,  dread- 
ful  as  they  were,  are  attributes  of  mortal 
men; — the   envy   of  Robespierre,  and  the 
instinctive  blood-thirstiness  of  Marat,  were 
the     properties    of   fiends.      Danton,    like 
the  huge  serpent  called  the  Boa,  might  be 
approached  with  a  degree   of  safety  when 
gorged  with  prey — but  the  appetite  of  Ma- 
rat  for    blood   was   like   the   horse-leech, 
which  says,  Not  enough — and  the  slaugh- 
terous envy  of  Robespierre  was  like  the 
gnawing  worm  that  dieth  not  and  yields  no 


interval  of  repose.  In  glutting  Danton 
with  spoil,  and  furnishing  the  means  of  in- 
dulging his  luxury,  the  Girondists  might 
have  purchased  his  support;  but  nothing 
under  the  supreme  rule  in  France  would 
have  gratified  Robespierre  ;  and  an  unlim- 
ited torrent  of  the  ijlood  of  that  unhappy 
country  could  alone  have  satiated  Marat. 
If  a  colleague  was  to  be  chosen  out  of  that 
detestable  triumvirate,  unquestionably  Dan- 
ton was  to  be  considered  as  the  most  eligi- 
ble. 

On  the  other  hand,  men  like  Brissot, 
Vergniaud,  and  others,  whose  attachment 
to  republicanism  was  mixed  with  a  spirit 
of  virtue  and  honour,  might  be  well  ad- 
verse to  the  idea  of  contaminating  their 
party  with  such  an  auxiliary,  intensely 
stained  as  Danton  was  by  his  share  in  the 
massacres  of  September.  They  might  well 
doubt,  whether  any  physical  force  which 
his  revolutionary  skill,  and  the  arms  it 
could  put  in  motion,  might  bring  to  their 
standard,  would  compensate  for  the  moral 
horror  with  which  the  presence  of  such  a 
grisly  proselyte  must  strike  all  who  had 
any  sense  of  honour  or  justice.  They, 
therefore,  discouraged  the  advances  of 
Danton,  and  resolved  to  comprise  him  with 
Marat  and  Robespierre  in  the  impeach- 
ment against  the  Jacobin  chiefs,  which 
they  designed  to  bring  forward  in  the  As- 
sembly. 

The  most  obvious  means  by  which  the 
Girondists  could  ascertain  their  safety,  and 
the  freedom  of  debate,  was  by  levying  a 
force  from  the  several  departments,  each 
contributing  its  quota,  to  be  called  a  De- 
partmental Legion,  which  was  to  be  armed 
and  paid  to  act  as  a  guard  upon  the  Nation- 
al Convention.  The  subject  was  introdu- 
ced by  Roland  in  a  report*  to  the  Assem- 
bly, and  renewed  on  the  next  day  by  Ker- 
saint,  a  spirited  Girondist,  who  candidly 
declared  the  purpose  of  his  motion :  "  It 
was  time,"  he  said,  "that  assassins  and 
their  prompters  should  see,  that  the  law 
had  scaffolds." 

The  Girondists  obtained,  that  a  commit- 
teei  of  six  members  should  be  named,  to 
report  on  the  state  of  the  capital,  on  the 
encouragement  afforded  to  massacre,  and 
on  the  mode  of  forming  a  departmental 
force  for  the  defence  of  the  metropolis. 
The  decree  was  carried  for  a  moment,  but 
on  the  next  day  the  Jacobins  demanded 
that  it  should  be  revoked,  denying  that 
there  was  any  occasion  for  such  a  defence 
to  the  Convention,  and  accusing  the  minis- 
ters of  an  intention  to  surround  themselves 
with  a  force  of  armed  satellites,  in  order 
to  overawe  the  good  city  of  Paris,  and  car- 
ry into  effect  their  sacrilegious  plan  of  dis- 
membering Frnncc.  Rebecqui  and  Barba- 
roux  replied  to  tliis  charge  by  impe.aching 
Robespierre,  on  their  own  testimony,  of 
aspiring  to  tlie  post  of  Dict.-itor.  The  de 
bate  becanif!  more  tempestuous  tlie  more 
that  the  tribunes  or  galleries  of  the  hall 
were  filled  with  the  violent  followers  of 
the  Jacobti  party,  who  shouted,  cursed,  and 


*24tli  September 


Chap.  Xliri 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BL'ONAPARTE. 


127 


velled.to  back  the  exclamations  and  threats 
of  their  leaders  in  the  Assembly.  While 
the  Girondists  were  exhausting  themselves 
to  find  out  terms  of  reproach  for  Marat,  that 
prodigy  stepped  fo/th,  and  raised  the  disor- 
der to  the  highest,  by  avowing  himself  the 
author  and  advocate  for  a  dictatorship.  The 
anger  of  the  Convention  seemed  thorough- 
ly awakened,  and  Vergniaud  read  to  the 
deputies  an  extract  from  Marat's  journal, 
in  which,  after  demanding  one  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  heads,  which  was  his  usual 
stint,  he  abused  the  Convention  in  the  gross- 
est terms,  and  exhorted  the  people  to  act 
— words  ef  which  the  import  was  by  this 
time  perfectly  understood. 

This  passage  excited  general  horror,  and 
the  victory  for  a  moment  seemed  in  the 
hands  of  the  Girondi.-;ts  ;  but  they  did  not 
pursue  it  with  sufficient  vigour.  The  meet- 
ing passed  to  the  order  of  the  day  ;  and  Ma- 
rat, in  ostentatious  triumph,  produced  a 
pistol,  with  which  he  said  he  would  have 
blown  out  his  brains,  had  a  decree  of  accu- 
sation been  passed  against  him.  The  Gi- 
rondists not  only  lost  the  advantage  of  dis- 
comfiting their  enemies  by  the  prosecution 
of  one  of  their  most  noted  leaders,  but 
were  compelled  for  the  present  to  abandon 
their  plan  of  a  departmental  guard,  and  re- 
sign tnemselves  to  the  guardianship  of  the 
faithful  citizens  of  Paris. 

This  city  of  Paris  was  at  the  time  under 
the  power  of  the  intrusive  Community,  (or 
Common  Council,)  many  of  whom  had  forc- 
ed themselves  into  office  on  the  10th  of 
August.  It  was  the  first  act  of  their  admin- 
istration to  procure  the  assassination  of 
Mandat,  the  commandant  of  the  National 
Guard;  and  their  accounts,  still  extant, 
bear  testimony,  that  it  was  by  their  instru- 
mentality that  the  murderers  of  September 
were  levied  and  paid.  Trained  Jacobins 
and  pitiless  ruffians  themselves,  this  civic 
body  had  raised  to  be  their  agents  and  as- 
sistants an  unusual  number  of  municipal 
officers,  who  were  at  once  their  guards, 
their  informers,  their  spies,  their  jailors,  and 
their  executioners.  They  had,  besides,  ob- 
tained a  majority  of  the  inhabitants  in  most 
of  the  sections,  whose  votes  placed  them 
and  their  agents  in  command  of  the  Na- 
tional Guard;  and  the  pikemen  of  the  sub- 
urbs were  always  ready  to  second  their 
excellent  Community,  even  against  the 
Convention  itself,  whicli,  in  point  of  free- 
dom of  action,  or  effective  power,  made  a 
figure  scarcely  more  respectable  than  that 
of  the  King  after  his  return  from  Varennes. 
Roland  almost  every  day  carried  to  the 
Convention  his  vain  complaints,  that  the 
course  of  the  kiw,  for  which  he  was  respon- 
sible, was  daily  crossed,  thwarted,  and  im- 
peded, by  the  proceedings  of  this  usurping 
body.  The  considerable  funds  of  the  city 
itself,  with  those  of  its  hospitals  and  other 
public  establishments  of  every  kind,  were 
dilapidated  by  these  revolutionary  intru- 
ders, and  applied  to  their  own  purposes. 
The  Minister  at  length,  in  a  formal  report 
to  the  Convention,  inculpated  the  Commu- 
nity in  these  and  such-like  offences.  In 
another  part  of  the  report,  he  intimated  a 


plot  of  the  Jacobins  to  assassinate  the  Gi- 
rondists, possess  themselves  of  the  govern- 
ment by  arms,  and  choose  Robespierre  dic- 
tator. Louvet  denounced  Robespierre  as 
a  traitor,  and  Barbaroux  proposed  a  series 
of  decrees.  The  first  declaring  the  Con- 
vention free  to  leave  any  city,  where  they 
should  be  e.vposed  to  constraint  and  vio- 
lence. The  second  resolving  to  form  a 
(Jonventiona!  guard.  The  third  declaring, 
that  the  Convention  should  form  itself  into 
a  court  of  justice,  for  trial  of  state  crimes. 
The  fourth  announcing,  that  in  respect  the 
sections  of  Paris  had  declared  their  sit- 
tings permanent,  that  resolution  should  be 
abrogated. 

Instead  of  adopting  the  energetic  meas- 
ures proposed  by  Barbaroux,  the  Conven- 
tion allowed  Robespierre  several  days  for 
his  defence  against  Louvet's  accusation, 
and  ordered  to  the  bar*  ten  members  of 
the  Community,  from  whom  they  were  con- 
tented to  accept  such  slight  apologies,  and 
evasive  excuses,  for  their  unauthorised  in- 
terference with  the  power  of  the  Conven- 
tion, as  these  insolent  demagogues  conde- 
scended to  offer. 

The  accusation  of  Robespierre,  though 
boldly  urged  by  Louvet  and  Barbaroux,  was 
also  eluded,  by  passing  to  the  order  of  the 
day ;  and  thus  the  Convention  showed 
plainly,  that  however  courageous  they  had 
been  against  their  monarch,  they  dared  not 
protect  the  liberty  which  they  boasted  of, 
against  the  encroachment  of  fiercer  dema- 
gogues than  themselves. 

Barbaroux  endeavoured  to  embolden  the 
Assembly,  by  bringing  once  more  from  his 
native  city  a  body  of  those  fiery  Marseil- 
lois,  who  had  formed  the  vanguard  of  the 
mob  on  the  lOth  of  August.  He  succeeded 
so  far  in  his  scheme,  that  a  few  scores  of 
those  Federates  again  appeared  in  Paris, 
where  their  altered  demeanour  excited  sur- 
prise. Their  songs  were  again  chanted, 
their  wild  Moresco  dances  and  gestures 
again  surprised  the  Parisians ;  and  the  more, 
as  in  their  choruses  they  imprecated  venge- 
ance on  the  Jacobins,  called  out  for  mercy 
to  the  "  poor  tyrant,"  so  they  termed  the 
King,  and  shouted  in  the  cause  of  peace, 
order,  and  the  Convention. 

The  citizens  of  Paris,  who  could  not  rec- 
oncile the  songs  and  exclamations  of  the 
Marseillois  wiih  their  appearance  and  char- 
acter, concluded  that  a  snare  was  laid  for 
them,  and  abstained  from  uniting  them- 
selves with  men,  whose  sincerity  was  so 
suspicious.  The  Marseillois  themselves, 
discouraged  with  their  cold  reception,  or 
not  liking  their  new  trade  of  maintaining 
order  so  well  as  their  old  one  of  oversetting 
it,  melted  away  by  degrees,  and  were  soon 
no  more  seen  or  heard  of.  Some  of  the 
Breton  Federates,  kept  in  the  interest  of 
the  Girondists,  by  their  countrymen  the 
deputies  Kersaint  and  Kervclagan,  remain- 
ed still  attached  to  the  Convention,  though 
their  numbers  were  too  few  (o  afford  them 
protection  in  any  general  danger. 
If  the  Memoirs  of  Dumouriez  are  to  be 


*5th  November. 


128 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


\chttp.  xn. 


relied  on,  that  active  and  intriguing  general 
presented  to  the  Girondists  another  re- 
source, not  free  certainly  from  hazard  or 
difficulty  to  the  Republican  government, 
which  was  the  idol  of  these  theoretical 
statesmen,  but  affording,  if  his  means  had 
proved  adequate  to  the  execution  of  his 
plan^,  a  certain  bulwrark  against  the  en- 
croachments of  the  hideous  anarchy  threat- 
ened by  the  Jacobin  ascendency. 

General  Dumouriez  was  sufficiently  hated 
oy  the  Jacobins,  notwithstanding  the  suc- 
cesses which  he  had  gained  on  the  part  of 
France  over  foreign  enemies,  to  induce 
him  to  feel  the  utmost  desire  of  putting 
down  their  usurped  power ;  but  he  was  un- 
der the  necessity  of  acting  with  great  cau- 
tion. The  bad  success  of  La  Fayette,  de- 
serted bv  his  army  as  soon  as  he  attempted 
to  lead  them  against  Paris,  was  in  itself  dis- 
couraging ;  but  Dumouriez  was  besides  con- 
scious that  the  Jacobin  clubs,  together  with 
the  commissioners  of  the  Convention  with 
Danton  at  their  head,  had  been  actively 
engaged  in  disorganizing  his  army,  and  di- 
minishing his  influence  over  them.  Thus 
circumstanced,  he  naturally  resolved  to 
avoid  haza^'ding  any  violent  measure  with- 
out the  support  of  the  Convention,  in  case 
of  being  deserted  by  his  army.  But  he  af- 
firms that  he  repeatedly  informed  the  Gi- 
rondists, then  predominant  in  the  Assem- 
bly, that  if  they  could  obtain  a  decree,  but 
of  four  lines,  authorizing  such  a  measure, 
he  was  ready  to  march  to  Paris  at  the  head 
of  a  chosen  body  of  troops,  who  would  have 
been  willing  to  obey  such  a  summons ;  and 
that  he  would  by  this  means  have  placeu 
the  Convention  in  a  situation,  when  they 
might  iiave  set  the  Jacobins  and  their  insur- 
rectionary forces  at  absolute  defiance. 

Perhaps  the  Girondists  entertained  the 
fear,  first,  that  Dumouriez's  influence  with 
his  troops  might  prove  as  inefficient  as  that 
of  La  Fayette,  and  leave  them  to  atone 
with  their  heads  for  such  a  measure  at- 
tempted and  unexecuted.  Or,  secondly, 
that  if  the  mancEUvre  proved  successful, 
they  would  be  freed  from  fear  of  the  Jaco- 
bins, only  to  be  placed  under  the  restraint 
of  a  military  chief,  whose  mind  was  well 
understood  to  be  in  favour  of  monarchy  of 
one  kind  or  other.  So  that,  coaceiving 
they  saw  equal  risk  in  the  alternative,  they 
preferred  the  hazard  of  seeing  their  fair 
and  favqurite  vision  of  a  Republic  over- 
thrown by  the  pikes  of  the  Jacobins,  rather 
,  than  the  bayonets  of  Dumouriez's  army. 
<  They  turned,  therefore,  a  cold  ear  to  the 
;  proposal,  which  afterwards  they  would 
gladly  have  accepted,  when  the  general  had 
no  longer  the  power  to  carry  it  into  exe- 
cution. 

Thus  the  factions,  so  intimately  united 
for  the  destruction  of  royalty,  could  not, 
when  that  step  was  gained,  combine  for 
any  other  purpose  save  the  great  crime  of 
murdering  their  deposed  sovereign.  Nay, 
while  the  Jacobins  and  Girondists  seemed 
moving  hand  in  hand  to  the  ultimate  com- 
pletion of  that  joint  undertaking,  the  union 
was  only  in  outward  appearance ;  for  the 
Girondists,  though  apparently  acting  in  con- 


'  cert  with  their  stern  rivals,  were  in  fact 
dragged  alter  them  by  compulsion,  and 
played  the  part  less  of  actors  than  subdued 
I  captives  in  this  final  triumph  of  democracy. 
They  were  fully  persuaded  of  the  King's 
innocence  as  a  man,  of  his  inviolability  and 
exemption  from  criminal  process  as  a  co»- 
stitutional  authority.  They  were  aware 
that  the  deed  meditated  would  render 
France  odious  to  all  the  other  nations  of 
Europe ;  and  that  the  Jacobins,  to  whom 
war  and  confusion  were  natural  elements, 
were  desirous  for  that  very  reason  to  bring 
Louis  to  the  scaffold.  All  this  was  plain 
to  them,  and  yet  their  pride  as  philosophers 
made  them  ashamed  to  be  thought  capable 
of  interesting  themselves  in  the  fate  of  a 
tyrant;  and  their  desire  of  getting  the 
French  nation  under  their  own  exclusive 
government,  induced  them  to  consent  to 
anything  rather  than  protect  the  obnoxious 
though  innocent  sovereign,  at  the  hazard  of 
losing  their  popularity,  and  forfeiting  their 
dearly-won  character  of  being  true  Repub- 
licans. 

A  committee  of  twenty-four  persons  had 
been  appointed  early  in  the  Session  of  the 
Convention,  to  inquire  into,  and  report  up- 
on, the  grounds  for  accusing  Louis.  Their 
report  was  brought  up  on  the  1st  of  Novem- 
ber. 1792,  and  a  more  loathsome  tissue  of 
confusion  and  falsehood  never  was  laid  up- 
on the  table  of  such  an  Assembly.  All  acts 
that  had  been  done  by  the  ministers  in  ev- 
ery department,  which  could  be  twisted 
into  such  a  shape  as  the  times  called  crim- 
inal, were  charged  as  deeds,  for  which  the 
sovereign  was  himself  responsible  ;  and  the 
burthen  of  the  whole  wps  to  accuse  the 
King,  when  he  had  scarcely  a  single  regi- 
ment of  guards  even  at  his  nominal  dispo- 
sal, of  nourishing  the  intentions  of  massa- 
cring the  Convention,  defended  by  thirtj 
thousand  National  Guards,  besides  the  Fed- 
erates, and  the  militia  of  the  suburbs. 

The  Convention  were  rather  ashamed  of 
this  report,  and  would  t-carce  permit  it  to 
be  printed.  So  soon  a=  it  appeared,  two  or 
three  persons,  who  were  therein  mentioned 
as  accomplices  of  particular  acts  charged 
against  the  King,  contradicted  the  report 
upon  their  oath.*  An  additional  charge  wa» 
brought  under  the  following  mysterious  cir- 
cumstances : — Gamin,  a  locksmith  of  Ver- 
sailles, communicated  to  Roland  about  the 
latter  end  of  Decemb'^r,  that  in  the  beginning 
of  May  17'J2,  he  had  been  employed  by  the 
King  to  secrete  an  iron  chest,  or  cabinet  in 
the  w.iU  of  a  certain  apartment  in  the  Tuille- 
ries,  which  he  disclosed  to  the  minister* 
of  justice.  He  added  a  circumstance  which 
throws  discredit  on  his  whole  story,  name- 
ly, that  the  King  gave  him  with  his  own 
hand  a  glass  of  wine,  after  taking  which,  he 
was  seized  with  a  colic,  followed  by  a  kind 
of  paralysis,  which  deprived  him  for  four- 
teen months  of  the  use  of  his  limbs,  and  the 
power  of  working  for  his  bread.     The  infer- 

*  Monsieur  dc  l^ptueil,  in  particular,  quoted  a* 
being  the  a»cnt  by  vvlinm  Louia  XVI.  was  said  to 
have  transmitteil  nionny  to  his  hrolhers  when  \m 
exile,  positively  (leiiiid  the  fact,  and  made  affidavit 
accordingly 


Chap.  Xll] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


129 


«nce  of  the  wretch  was,  that  the  King  had 
attempted  to  poison  him ;  which  those  may 
believe  who  can  number  fourteen  months 
betwixt  the  beginning  of  May  and  the  end 
of  December  in  the  same  year.  This  gross 
falsehood  utterly  destroys  Gamin's  evi- 
dence ;  and  as  the  King  always  denied  his 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  such  a  chest 
with  such  papers,  we  are  reduced  to  sup- 

Eose,  either  that  Gamin  had  been  employed 
y  one  of  the  royal  ministers,  and  had 
brought  the  King  personally  into  the  tale 
for  the  greater  grace  of  his  storj',  or  that 
the  papers  found  in  some  other  place  of 
safety  had  been  selected,  and  put  into  the 
chest  by  the  Jacobin  commissioners,  then 
employed  in  surveying  and  searching  the 
palace,  with  the  purpose  of  trumping  up 
evidence  against  the  Ring. 

Roland  acted  very  imprudently  in  exam- 
ining the  contents  of  the  chest  alone  and 
without  witness,  instead  of  calling  in  the 
commissioners  aforesaid,  who  were  in  the 
palace  at  the  time.  This  was  perhaps  done 
with  the  object  of  putting  aside  such  papers 
as  might,  in  that  hour  of  fear  and  uncertain- 
ty, have  brought  into  danger  some  of  his 
own  party  or  friends.  One  of  importance, 
however,  was  found,  which  the  Jacobins 
turned  into  an  implement  against  the  Gi- 
rondists. It  was  an  overture  from  that  par- 
ty addressed  to  the  Kir^g,  shortly  before  the 
10th  of  Auffust,  engajring  to  oppose  the 
motion  for  the  forfeiture  of  the  King,  pro- 
viding Louis  would  recall  to  his  councils 
the  three  discarded  ministers  of  their  fac- 
tion. 

The  contents  of  the  chest  were  of  a  very 
miscellaneous  nature.  The  documents 
consisted  of  letters,  memorials,  and  plans, 
from  different  persons,  and  at  diflerent 
dates,  offering  advice,  or  tendering  support 
to  the  King,  and  proposing  plans  for  the 
freedom  of  hi?  person.  The  Royalist  project 
of  Mirabeau,  in  his  latter  days,  was  found 
amongst  the  rest  j  in  consequence  of  which 
his  hodv  was  dragged  <mt  of  the  Pantheon, 
formerly  the  Church  of  Saint  Genevieve, 
now  destined  to  receive  the  bodies  of  the 
freat  men  of  the  Revolution,  but  whose 
lodgings  shifted  as  often  an  if  they  had  been 
taken  by  the  month. 

The  documents,  xs  wr>  have  said,  con- 
sisted chiefly  of  projects  for  the  Kin!:;'s  ser- 
vice, cm  which  he  certainly  never  acted, 
probably  r.ever  approved  of,  and  perhaps 
never  saw.  The  utmost  to  which  he  could 
be  liable,  was  such  penalty  as  may  be  due 
to  one  who  rf'tains  ooFsessicm  of  plans  sub- 
mitted to  hi.s  considerntion,  but  v.'hich  have 
in  no  shape  obtained  his  assent.  It  was 
•ufficiently  hard  to  nrf  nunt  Louis  responsi- 
ble for  such  advice  of  his  ministers  as  he 
really  adopted  ;  but  it  was  a  dreadful  exten- 
»ion  of  his  responsibility  to  make  him  an- 
twerable  for  such  as  he  had  virtuallv  re- 
jected. Besides  which,  the  story  of  Gamin 
w-is  so  self-contradictory  in  one  circum- 
■V&nce,  and  so  doubtful  in  others,  as  to  car- 
ry no  available  proof  that  the  papers  had 
oieen  in  the  King's  possession ;  so  that  this 
new  charge  was  as  groundless  as  those 
brought  up  by  the  first  committee,  and,  ar- 
Vot,  I.  F  ? 


guing  upon  the  known  law  of  any  civilized 
country,  the  accusations  against  him  ought 
to  have  been  dismissed,  as  founded  on  the 
most  notorious  injustice. 

There  was  one  circumstance  which  prob- 
ably urged  those  into  whose  hands  Louis 
had  fallen,  to  proceed  against  his  person  to 
the  uttermost.  They  knew  that,  in  English 
history,  a  king  had  been  condemned  to 
death  by  his  subjects,  and  were  resolved 
that  France  should  not  remain  behind 
England  in  the  exhibition  of  a  spectacle  so 
interesting  and  edifying  to  a  people  newly 
regenerated.  This  parallel  case  would  not 
perhaps  have  been  thought  a  worthy  pre- 
cedent in  other  countries  ;  but  in  France 
there  is  a  spirit  of  wild  enthusiasm,  a  de- 
sire of  following  out  an  example  eveu  to 
the  most  exaggerated  point,  and  of  outdo- 
ing, if  possible,  what  other  nations  have 
done  before  them.  This  had  doubtless  its 
influence  in  causing  Louis  to  be  brought  to 
the  bar  in  1792,  like  Charles  of  England  in 
1648, 

The  French  statesmen  did  not  pause  to 
reflect,  that  the  violent  death  of  Charles 
only  paved  the  way  for  a  series  of  years 
spent  in  servitude  under  military  despot- 
ism, and  then  to  restoration  of  the  legiti- 
mate sovereign.  Had  they  regarded  the 
precedent  on  this  side,  thej  would  have 
obtamed  a  glimpse  into  futurity,  and  might 
have  presaged  what  were  to  be  the  conse- 
quences of  the  death  of  Louis.  Neither 
did  the  French  consider,  that  by  a  great 
part  of  the  English  nation  the  execution  ol' 
Charles  Stuart  is  regarded  as  a  national 
crime,  and  the  anniversary  still  observed 
as  a  day  of  fasting  and  penitence  ;  that  oth- 
ers who  condemn  the  King's  conduct  in 
and  preceding  the  Civil  War,  do,  like  the 
Whig  Churchill,  still  consider  his  death  as 
an  unconstitutional  action  ;*  that  the  num- 
ber is  small  indeed  who  think  it  justifiable 
even  on  the  precarious  grounds  of  state  ne- 
cessity ;  and  that  it  is  barely  possible  a 
small  portion  of  enthusiasts  may  still  exist 
who  glory  in  the  deed  as  an  act  of  popular 
vengeance. 

But  even  among  this  last  description  of 
persons,  the  French  regicides  would  find 
themselves  entirely  at  a  loss  to  vindicate 
the  execution  of  Louis  by  the  similar  fate 
of  Charles  ;  and  it  would  be  by  courtesy 
only,  if  at  all,  that  they  could  be  admitted 
to  the  honours  of  the  sitting  at  a  Calves - 
Head  Club. 


*  I'^r.happy  Stuart  .  harshly  though  that  name 

Grates  on  my  ear,  I  should  have  died  with  sham''. 

To  see  my  King  before  his  subjects  stand, 

And  at  tiicir  bar  bold  up  his  royal  hand ; 

At  their  command  to  liear  the  monarch  plead. 

By  their  decrees  to  see  that  monarch  bleed. 

What  though  thy  faults  were  many,  and   wem 

great — 
What  though  they  shook  the  fabric  of  the  itate.' 
In  royalty  secure  thy  per.=on  stood, 
.\nd  sacred  was  the  fountain  of  thy  blood. 
Vile  ministers,  who  dared  abuse  their  trust, 
Who  dared  seduce  a  kin"  to  be  unjust. 
Vengeance,  with  justice  leagued,  with  power  m^^ 

strong, 
Had  nobly  crush'd — The  King  can  do  no  wroo^ 
Church  I  LL't  Ootkam, 


130 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XII. 


The  comparison  between  these  unhappy 
monarchs  fails  in  almost  every  point,  ex- 
cepting in  the  closing  scene  ;  and  no  par- 
allel can,  with  justice  to  either,  be  drawn 
betwixt  them.  The  most  zealous  Cavalier 
will,  in  these  enlightened  days,  admit,  that 
the  early  government  of  Charles  was  mark- 
ed by  many  efforts  to  extend  the  preroga- 
tive beyond  its  legal  bounds ;  that  there 
were  instances  of  oppressive  fines,  cruel 
punishments  by  mutilation,  long  and  severe 
imprisonment  in  distant  forts  and  castles  5 
exertions  of  authority  which  no  one  seeks 
to  justify,  and  which  those  who  are  the 
King's  apologists  can  only  endeavour  to 
mitigate,  by  alleging  the  precedents  of  ar- 
bitrary times,  or  the  interpretation  of  the 
laws  by  courtly  ministers,  and  time-serving 
lawyers.  The  conduct  of  Louis  XVI.,  from 
the  hour  he  assumed  the  throne,  was,  on 
the  contrary,  an  example  of  virtue  and  mod- 
eration. Instead  of  levying  ship-money 
and  benevolences,  Louis  lightened  the  feu- 
dal services  of  the  vassals,  and  the  corvee 
among  the  peasantry.  Where  Charles  en- 
deavoured to  enforce  conformity  to  the 
Church  of  England  by  the  pillory  and  ear- 
slitting,  Louis  allowed  the  Protestants  the 
free  use  of  their  religion,  and  discharged 
the  use  of  torture  in  all  cases  whatever. 
Where  Charles  visited  his  parliament  to 
violate  their  freedom  by  arresting  five  of 
their  members,  Louis  may  be  said  to  have 
surrendered  himself  an  unresisting  prisoner 
to  the  representatives  of  the  people,  whom 
he  had  voluntarily  summoned  around  him. 
But  above  all,  Charles,  in  person,  or  by  his 
generals,  waged  a  long  and  bloody  war  with 
his  subjects,  fought  battles  in  every  county 
of  England,  and  was  only  overcome  and 
made  prisoner,  after  a  lengthened  and  dead- 
ly contest,  in  which  many  thousands  fell 
on  both  sides.  The  conduct  of  Louis  was 
in  every  respect  different.  He  never  offer- 
ed one  blow  in  actual  resistance,  even 
when  he  had  the  means  in  his  power.  He 
ordered  up,  indeed,  the  forces  under  Mare- 
schal  Broglio ;  Ijut  he  gave  them  com- 
mand to  retire,  so  soon  as  it  was  evident 
that  they  must  either  do  so,  or  act  offen- 
eively  against  the  people.  In  the  most 
perilous  situations  of  his  life,  he  showed 
the  utmost  reluctance  to  shed  the  blood  of 
his  subjects.  He  would  not  trust  his  at- 
tendants with  pistols,  during  the  flight  to 
Varennes;  he  would  not  give  the  officer  of 
hussars  orders  to  clear  the  passage,  when 
his  carriage  v/as  stopped  upon  the  bridge. 
When  he  saw  that  the  martial  array  of  the 
Guards  did  not  check  the  audacity  of  the 
assailants  on  the  10th  of  August,  he  surren- 
dered himself  to  the  Legislative  .\ssembly, 
a  prisoner  at  discretion,  rather  than  mount 
his  horse  and  place  himself  at  the  head  of 
his  faithful  troops  and  subjects.  The  blood 
that  was  shod  that  day  was  without  conj- 
mand  of  his.  He  could  have  no  reason  for 
encouraging  such  a  strife,  which,  far  from 
defending  his  person,  then  in  the  custody 
of  the  Assembly,  was  likely  to  place  it  in 
the  most  imminent  danger.  And  in  the 
very  last  stage,  when  he  received  private 
notice  that  there  were  individuals  deter- 


mined to  save  his  life  at  peril  of  their  own, 
he  forbade  the  enterprise.  '•'  Let  not  a 
drop  of  blood  be  shed  on  my  account,"  he 
said ;  "  I  would  not  consent  to  it  for  the 
safety  of  my  crown  :  I  never  will  purchase 
mere  life  at  such  a  rate."  These  were 
sentiments  perhaps  fitter  for  the  pious  sec- 
taries of  the  community  of  Friends,  than 
for  the  King  of  a  great  nation  ;  but  such  as 
they  were,  Louis  felt  and  conscientiously 
acted  on  them.  And  yet  his  subjects  could 
compare  his  character,  and  his  pretended 
guilt,  with  the  bold  and  haughty  .Stuart,  who, 
in  the  course  of  the  Civil  War,  bore  arms 
in  person,  and  charged  at  the  head  of  his 
own  regiment  of  Guards  ! 

Viewed  in  his  kingly  duty,  the"  conduct 
of  Louis  is  equally  void  of  blame  ;  unless 
it  be  tliat  blame  which  attaches  to  a  prince, 
too  yielding  and  mild  to  defend  the  just 
rights  of  his  crown.  He  yielded,  with  fee- 
ble struggling,  to  every  demand  in  succes- 
sion which  was  made  upon  him,  and  gave 
way  to  every  inroad  on  the  existing  state 
of  France.  Instead  of  placing  Wmself  as 
a  barrier  between  his  people  and  his  nobil- 
ity, and  bringing  both  to  some  fair  terms 
of  composition  he  suffered  the  latter  to  be 
driven  from  his  side,  and  by  the  ravaging 
their  estates,  and  the  burning  of  their 
houses,  to  be  hurried  into  emigration.  He 
adopted  one  popular  improvement  after 
another,  each  innovating  on  the  royal  au- 
thority, or  derogatory  to  the  royal  dignity. 
Far  from  having  deserved  the  charge  of  op- 
posing the  nation's  claim  of  freedom,  it 
would  have  been  well  for  themselves  and 
him,  had  he  known  how  to  limit  his  grant 
to  that  quantity  of  freedom  which  they 
were  qualified  to  make  a  legitimate  use  of"^; 
leaving  it  for  future  princes  to  slacken  the 
reins  of  government,  in  proportion  as  the 
public  mind  in  France  should  become  form- 
ed to  the  habitual  exercise  of  political 
rights. 

The  King's  perfect  innocence  was  there- 
fore notorious  to  the  whole  world,  but  es- 
pecially to  those  who  now  usurped  the  title 
of  arraigning  him  ;  and  men  could  hardly 
persuade  themselves,  that  his  life  was  seri- 
ously in  danger.  An  ingenious  contrivance 
of  the  Jacobins  seems  to  have  been  intend- 
ed to  drive  the  wavering  Girondists  into 
the  snare  of  voting  for  the  King's  trial. 
Saint  Just,  one  of  their  number,  made  & 
furious  speech  against  any  formality  being 
observed,  save  a  decree  of  death  on  the  ur- 
gency of  the  occasion.  "  What  availed," 
said  the  supporters  of  this  brief  and  sure 
measure,  "the  ceremonies  of  Grand  and 
Petty  Jury  ?  The  cannon  which  made  a 
breach  in  the  Tuilleries,  the  unanimous 
shout  of  the  people  on  the  10th  of  August, 
had  come  in  place  of  all  other  solemnities. 
The  Convention  had  no  farther  power  to 
inquire  ;  its  sole  duty  was  to  pronounce,  or 
rather  confirm  and  execute,  the  doom  of 
the  sovereign  people." 

This  summary  proposal  was  highly  ap- 
plauded, not  only  by  the  furious  crowds  by 
whom  the  galleries  were  always  occupied, 
but  by  all  the  exaggerations  of  the  more  vi- 
olent democrats.    They  exclaimed  that  ev- 


Chap.  XUL] 


LIFE  OF  N.\POLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[31 


ery  citizen  had  the  same  right  over  the  life 
of  Louis  which  Brutus  possessed  over  that 
of  Casar.  Others  cried  out,  that  the  very 
fact  of  having  reigned,  was  in  itself  a  crime 
notorious  enough  to  dispense  with  further 
investigation,  and  authorize  instant  punish- 
ment. 

Stunned  by  these  clamours,  the  Giron- 
dists and  neutral  party,  like  all  feeble-mind- 
ed men,  chose  a  middle  course,  and  instead 
of  maintaining  the  King's  innocence,  adopt- 
ed measures,  calculated  to  save  him  indeed 
from  immediate  slaughter,  but  which  ended 
by  consigning  him  to  a  tribunal  too  timid  to 
hear  his  cause  justly.  They  resolved  to 
urge  the  right  of  the  National  Convention 
to  judge  in  the  case  of  Louis. 

There  were  none  in  the  Convention  that 
dared  to  avow  facts  to  which  their  con- 
science bore  witness,  but  the  consequen- 
ces of  admitting  which,  were  ingeniously 
urged  by  the  sophist  Robespierre,  as  a  con- 
demnation of  their  own  conduct.  "  One 
party,"  said  the  wily  logician,  "  must  be 
clearly  guilty  ;  either  the  King,  or  the  Con- 
vention, who  have  ratified  the  actions  of 
the  insurgent  people.  If  you  have  dethron- 
ed an  innocent  and  legal  monarch,  what  are 
you  but  traitors  ?  and  why  sit  you  here —  , 
why  not  hasten  to  the  Temple,  set  Louis  | 
at  liberty,  install  him  again  in  the  Tuille- 
ries,  aind  beg  on  your  knees  for  a  pardon 
you  have  not  merited  ?  But  if  you  have,  in  I 


the  great  popular  act  which  you  have  rat- 
ified, only  approved  of  the  deposition  of  a 
tyrant,  summon  him  to  the  bar,  and  demand 
a  reckoning  for  his  crimes."  This  dilemma 
pressed  on  the  mind  of  many  members 
who  could  not  but  see  their  own  condem- 
nation the  necessary  consequence  of  the 
King's  acquittal.  And  while  some  felt  the 
force  of  this  argument,  all  were  aware  of 
the  obvious  danger  to  be  encountered  from 
the  wrath  of  the  Jacobins  and  their  satel- 
lites, should  they  dare  to  dissent  from  the 
vote  which  these  demagogues  demanded 
from  the  Assembly. 

When  Robespierre  had  ended,  Pethion 
arose  and  moved  that  the  King  should  be 
tried  before  the  Convention.  It  is  said  the 
Mayor  of  Paris  took  the  lead  in  this  cruel 
persecution,  because  Louis  had  spoken  to 
him  .sharply  about  the  tumultuary  inroad  of 
the  Jacobin  rabble  into  the  Tuilleries  on 
the  20th  of  June ;  and  when  Pethion  at- 
tempt«»d  to  reply,  had  pointed  to  the  brok- 
en grating  through  which  the  entrance  had 
been  tbrced,  and  sternly  commanded  him 
to  be  silent.  If  this  was  true,  it  was  a  bit- 
ter revenge  for  so  slight  an  offence,  and  the 
subsequent  fate  of  Pethion  is  the  less  de- 
serving of  pity. 

The  motion  was  carried  without  oppoBi- 
tion,  and  the  ne.tt  chapter  affords  us  the 
melancholy  results. 


CHAP.    XIZI. 

Indeciiion  of  the  Girondists,  and  its  Effects. —  The  Royal  Family  in  the  Temple — In- 
gulted  by  the  Agents  of  the  Community,  both  within  and  without  the  Prison — Their 
exemplary  Patience — Jt.c  King  deprived  of  his  Son's  Society. — Buzot's  admission 
of  the  general  dislike  of  I'rcnce  to  a  Republican  Form  of  Government. —  The  King 
brought  to  Trial  before  tiie  Convention — His  first  Examination — Carried  back  to 
Prison  amidst  Insults  and  Abi'se. —  Tumult  in  the  Assembly. —  The  King  deprived  of 
Intercourse  with  his  Family. — Malesherbes  appointed  as  Counsel  to  defend  the  King. 
— and  De  Seze, — Louis  again  brought  before  the  Convention — Opening  Speech  of 
De  Seze — Kirig  remanded  to  the  Temple. — Stormy  Debate  in  the  Convention. — Elo 
quent  Attack  of  Vergniaud  on  the  Jacobins. — Sentence  of  Dzath  proTiounced  against 
the  Kirig — General  Sympathy  for  his    Fate. — Dumouriez  arrives  in  Paris —  Vainly 

trie*  to  avert  the  King's  Fate. — Louis  XV'I.  BEHKiDEi)  ojr  2Ist  Januarv  1793 

Marie  A.vtoi.vette  on  the  I6th  October  thereafter— The  Princess  Ei.i7.ABt:TH  in 
May  \19A—The  Dauphin  Perishes  by  Cruelty,  June  8th,  ]19o.—  The  Princess  Royal 
exchanged  for  La  Fayette,  I9th  December,  1795. 


We  have  already  said  that  the  vigorous  I 
and  masculine,  as  well  as  virtuous  eshorta-  I 
tions  of  Madame  Roland,  were  thrown  away 
upon  her  colleagues,  whose  fears  were  I 
more  than  female.  The  Girondists  could  ! 
not  be  made  to  perceive,  that,  though  their  ' 
ferocious  adversaries  were  feared  throut'h  ! 
France,  yet  they  were  also  hated.  The  ' 
moral  feeling  of  all  Frenchmen  who  had  | 
any  left,  detested  the  authors  of  along  train  ! 
of  the  most  cold-blooded  murders  ;  the  sus-  j 
picions  of  all  men  of  property  were  attach- ' 
ed  to  the  conduct  of  a  party,  whose  leaders  j 
rose  from  indigence  to  affluence  by  fines. , 
confiscations,  sequestrations,  besides  every  j 
other  kind  of  plunder,  direct  and  indirect.  ' 
If  the  majority  of  the  Convention  had  I 
adopted  the  determination  of  boldly  resist- 1 
MJg  their  unprincipled  tyrants,  and  prevent- 1 


ing,  at  whatever  hazard,  the  murder  of  the 
King,  the  strength  of  the  country  would 
probably  have  supported  a  constituted  au- 
thority against  the  usurpations  of  the  Com- 
munity of  Paris,  which  had  no  better  titlp 
to  tyrannize  over  the  Convention,  and  by 
so  doing  to  govern  France  at  pleasure, 
than  had  the  council  of  the  meanest  town 
in  the  kingdom. 

The  Girondists  ought  to  have  been  sens^;- 
ble,  that,  even  by  thwarting  this  favourite 
measure,  they  could  not  increase  the  hatred 
which  the  Jacobins  already  entertained 
against  them,  and  should  have  known  that 
further  delay  to  give  open  battle,  would  not 
bo  received  as  an  overture  of  friendship, 
but  be  regarded  as  a  timid  indecision,  which 
must  have  heated  their  enemies,  in  proper- 
tion  as  it  cooled  their  friends.    The  truck- 


132 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  Xin. 


ling,  time'SerTing  policy  which  they  observ- 
ed on  this  occasion,  deprived  the  Girondists 
of  almost  all  chance  of  forming  a  solid  and 
substantial  interest  in  the  country.  By  a 
bold,  open,  and  manly  defence  of  the  King, 
they  would  have  done  honour  to  them- 
aelves  ae  public  men,  willing  to  discharge 
tiieir  duty  at  the  risk  of  their  lives.  They 
would  have  been  sure  of  whatever  number 
could  be  gathered,  either  of  royalists,  who 
were  beginning  to  raise  a  head  in  Bretagne 
*nd  La  Vendee,  or  of  Constitutionalists, 
who  feared  the  persecution  of  the  Jaco- 
bins. The  materials  were  already  kindled 
for  those  insurrections,  which  afterwards 
broke  out  at  Lyons,  Marseilles,  Toulon, 
and  generally  through  the  south  and  west  of 
France.  They  might  have  brought  up  five 
or  six  thousand  Federates  from  the  depart- 
ments, and  the  force  would  then  have  been 
in  their  own  hands.  They  might,  by  show- 
ing a  bold  and  animated  front,  have  regain- 
ed possession  of  the  National  Guard,  which 
was  only  prevented  by  a  Jacobin  command- 
er and  his  staff  officers,  as  well  as  by  their 
timidity,  from  throwing  off  a  yoke  so  bloody 
and  odious  as  that  which  they  were  groan- 
ing under.  But  to  dare  this,  it  was  neces- 
•ary  that  they  should  have  the  encourage- 
ment of  the  Convention ;  and  that  body, 
managed  as  it  was  by  the  Girondists,  show- 
ed a  timorous  unwillingness  to  support  the 
measures  of  the  Jacobins,  which  implied 
their  dislike  indeed,  but  also  evinced  their 
fear. 

Meantime  the  King,  with  the  Queen,  his 
sister,  and  their  children,  the  Dauphin  and 
the  Princess  Royal,  remained  in  the  Tower 
of  the  Temple,  more  uncomfortably  lodg- 
ed, and  much  more  harshly  treated,  than 
state  prisoners  before  the  Revolution  had 
been  in  the  execrable  Bastille.*  The  royal 
prieoners  were  under  the  especial  charge 
of  the  Community  of  Paris,  who,  partly 
from  their  gross  ignorance,  partly  from  their 
desire  to  display  their  furious  Jacobinical 
real,  did  all  in  their  power  to  embitter  their 
captivity. 

Pethion,  whose  presence  brought  with  it 
so  many  cruel  recollections,  studiously  in- 
tuited him  by  his  visits  to  the  prison.  The 
municipal  officers  sent  thither  to  ensure  the 
custody  of  the  King's  person,  and  to  be 
•pies  upon  his  private  conversation,  were 
•elected  among  the  worst  and  most  malig- 
nant Jacobins.  His  efforts  at  equanimity, 
and  even  civility,  towards  these  brutal  jail- 
ors, were  answered  with  the  most  gross  in- 
solence. One  of  them,  a  mason,  in  his 
working  dress,  had  thrown  himself^  into  an 
arm-chair,  where>  decorated  with  his  muni- 
cipal scarf,  he  reposed  at  his  ease.  The 
King  condescended  to  ask  him,  by  w-iy  of 
conversation,  whore  he  wrought.  lie  an- 
swered gruffly,  "  at  the  Church  of  Saint 
Genevieve." — "  I  remember,"  said  the 
King,  "  I  laid  the  foundation  stone — a  fine 
edifice  ;  but  I  have  heard  the  foundation  is 
iBsecure." — "  It  is  more  sure,"  answered 

*The  reader  may  compare  the  account  wht' h 
Marmontel  given  of  hU  residence  in  the  Rustille, 
with  the  faithful  Clerj'i  DArrative  of  I^ouis'i  cap- 
fivilj  to  thB  Xenpla. 


the  fellow,  "  than  the  thrones  of  tyrants.' 
The  King  smiled  and  was  silent.  He  en- 
dured with  the  same  patience  the  insolent 
answer  of  another  of  these  officials.  The 
man  not  having  been  relieved  at  the  usual 
and  regular  hour,  the  King  civilly  expressed 
his  hopes  that  he  would  find  no  inconven- 
ience from  the  delay.  "  I  am  come  here," 
answered  the  ruffian,  "  to  watch  your  con- 
duct, not  for  you  to  trouble  yourself  with 
mine.  No  one,"  he  added,  faxing  his  hat 
firm  on  his  brow,  "  least  of  all  you,  have 
any  business  to  concern  themselves  with  it." 
We  have  seen  prisons,  and  are  sure  that 
even  the  steeled  jailor,  accustomed  as  he 
is  to  scenes  of  distress,  is  not  in  the  habit, 
unprovoked  and  wantonly,  of  answering 
with  reproach  and  insult  such  ordinary  ex- 
pressions of  civility,  when  offered  by  the 
worst  criminals.  The  hearts  of  these  men, 
who,  by  chance  as  it  were,  became  dungeon- 
keepers,  and  whose  first  captive  had  been 
many  years  their  King,  must  have  been  a* 
hard  as  the  nether  millstone. 

While  such  scenes  occurred  within  the 
prison,  those  who  kept  watch  without,  ei- 
ther as  sentinels  or  as  patroles  of  the  Jaco- 
bins, (who  maintained  stern  vigilance  in  the 
environs  of  the  prison,)  were  equally  ready 
to  contribute  their  share  of  vexation  and  in- 
sult. Pictures  and  placards,  representing 
the  royal  family  under  the  hands  of  the  ex- 
ecutioner, were  pasted  up  where  the  King 
and  Queen  might  see  them.  The  most  vi- 
olent patriotic  songs,  turning  upon  the  ap- 
proaching death  of  Monsieur  and  Madame 
V^eto,  were  sung  below  their  windows,  and 
the  most  frightful  cries  for  their  blood  din- 
turbed  such  rest  as  prisoners  can  obtain. 
The  head  of  the  Princess  of  Lamballe  was 
brought  under  their  window  on  the  3d  Sep- 
tember, and  one  of  the  municipal  officert 
would  have  enticed  the  royal  family  to  the 
window  that  they  might  see  this  ghastly 
spectacle,  had  not  the  other,  "  of  milder 
mood,"  prevented  them  from  complying. 
When  questioned  concerning  the  names  of 
these  two  functionaries  by  some  less  savage 
persons,  who  wished  to  punish  the  offend- 
ing ruffian,  Louis  would  only  mention  that 
of  the  more  humane  of  the  two;  so  little 
was  this  unhappy  prince  addicted  to  seek 
revenge,  even  for  the  most  studied  cruel- 
ties practised  against  him. 

The  conduct  of  the  Community  increased 
in  rigour,  as  the  process  against  Louis 
seemed  to  draw  nearer.  The  most  ordina- 
ry points  of  personal  accommodation  were 
made  subjects  of  debate  ere  they  could  be 
granted,  and  that  upon  the  King's  being 
permitted  to  shave  himself,  lasted  a  long 
while.  Every  article  was  taken  from  him, 
even  to  his  tooth-pick  and  penknife,  and 
the  Queen  and  prfncesses  were  deprived  of 
their  scissors  and  housewives.  This  led 
to  a  touching  remark  of  Louis.  He  saw 
his  sister,  while  at  work,  obliged  to  bite 
asunder  a  thread  which  she  had  no  means 
of  cutting,  and  the  words  escaped  him. 
"  .\h  I  you  wanted  nothing  in  your  pretty 
house  at  Montreuil." — "  Dearest  brother,* 
answered  the  princess,  whose  character  wte 
that  of  sanctity^  purity  of  thought,  and  b»> 


Chap.  XZn.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


133 


nevolence,  "  can  I  complain  of  anything, 
■ince  Heaven  has  preserved  me  to  share 
and  to  comfort,  in  some  degree,  your  hours 
of  captivity  1"  It  was,  indeed,  in  the  so- 
ciety of  his  family  that  the  character  of 
Louis  shone  to  the  greatest  advantage  ;  and 
if,  when  on  the  throne,  he  did  not  always 
possess  the  energies  demanded  of  his  high 
situation,  in  the  dungeon  of  the  Temple 
misfortune  threw  around  him  the  glories  of 
a  martyr.  His  morning  hours  were  spent  in 
instructing  or  amusing  the  young  Dauphin, 
a.  task  for  which  the  King's  extensive  in- 
formation well  qualified  him.  The  cap- 
tives enjoyed,  as  they  best  might,  a  short 
interval,  when  they  were  permitted  to  walk 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Temple,  sure  to  be 
insulted  (like  Charles  L  in  the  same  situa- 
tion) by  the  sentinels,  who  puffed  volumes 
of  tobacco-smoke  in  their  faces  as  they 
passed  them,  while  others  annoyed  the  ears 
of  the  ladies  with  licentious  songs,  or  the 
most  cruel  denunciations. 

All  this  Louis  and  his  family  endured  with 
such  sainted  patience,  that  several  who  ob- 
tained access  to  his  person  were  moved  by 
the  spectacle  of  royalty  reduced  to  a  situa- 
tion so  melancholy,  yet  sustained  with  such 
gentleness  and  fortitude.  Some  of  the  mu- 
nicipal officers  themselves  became  melted, 
and  changed  their  ideas  of  the  King,  when 
they  beheld  him  in  so  new  and  singular  a 
light. 

Stories  of  the  insults  which  he  daily  re- 
ceived, and  of  the  meekness  with  which  he 
sustained  them,  began  to  circulate  among 
the  citizens  of  the  higher  classes ;  and, 
joined  to  their  fear  of  falling  completely 
under  the  authority  of  the  sans  culottes,  led 
many  of  the  Republicans  to  cast  back  their 
thoughts  to  the  Constitution  of  1791.  with 
all  its  faults,  and  with  its  monarchical  exec- 
utive government. 

The  more  wise  and  sensible  of  the  Gi- 
rondists began  to  suspect  that  they  had 
been  too  hasty  in  erecting  their  favourite 
Republic,  on  ground  incapable  of  affording  a 
•ound  and  secure  foundation  for  such  an  edi- 
fice. Buzot  gives  testimony  to  this,  dated 
later,  no  doubt,  than  the  period  we  are  tieat- 
ing  of;  but  the  grounds  of  the  reasoning  exist- 
ed as  much  at  the  King'.s  trial  as  after  the 
expulsion  of  the  Girondists.  The  passage 
is  remarkable.  "My  friends,''  says  this 
distinguished  Girondist,  "  preserved  a  long 
time  the  hopes  of  establishing  a  republic 
in  France,  even  when  all  seemed  to  demon- 
strate that  the  enlightened  classes,  wheth- 
er from  prejudice  or  from  just  reasoning, 
felt  indisposed  to  that  form  of  soveniment. 
That  hope  did  not  forsake  my  friends  when 
the  most  wicked  and  vilest  of  men  obtain- 
ed possession  of  the  minds  of  the  inferior 
classes,  and  corrupted  them  by  the  opportu- 
nities they  offered  of  license  and  pillage. 
My  friends  reckoned  on  the  lightness  and 
aptitude  to  change  proper  to  the  French 
cnaracter,  and  which  they  considered  to  be 

rculiarly  suitable  to  a  republican  natior. 
have  always  considered  that  conclusion 
as  entirely  false,  and  have  repeatedly  in 
my  heart  despaired  of  my  darling  wish  to 
Mabliab  a  republic  in  my  country."    In 


another  place  he  says,  "  It  must  not  be  dis- 
sembled that  the  majority  of  Frenchmen 
earnestly  desired  royalty,  and  the  constitu- 
tion of  1791.  In  Paris,  the  wish  was  gen- 
eral, and  was  expressed  most  freely,  though 
only  in  confidential  society,  and  among 
private  friends.  There  were  only  a  few 
noble  and  elevated  minds  who  felt  them- 
selves worthy  to  be  Republicans,  and  whom 
the  example  of  the  Americans  had  encour- 
aged to  essay  the  project  of  a  similar  gov- 
ernment in  France,  the  country  of  frivoli- 
ty and  mutability.  The  rest  of  the  nation, 
with  the  exception  of  the  ignorant  wretch- 
es, without  eiiher  sense  or  substance,  who 
vomited  abuse  against  royalty,  as  at  anoth- 
er time  they  would  have  done  against  a 
commonwealth,  and  all  without  knowing 
why, — the  rest  of  the  nation  were  all  at- 
tached to  the  constitution  of  1791,  and 
looked  on  the  pure  Republicans  as  a  very 
well-meaning  kind  of  madmen." 

In  these  lines,  written  by  one  of  the 
most  sincere  of  their  number,  we  read  the 
condemnation  of  the  Girondists,  who,  to 
adventure  the  precarious  experiment  of  a 
republic,  in  which  they  themselves  saw  so 
many  difficulties,  wers  contented  to  lend 
their  arms  and  countenance  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  that  very  government,  which  they 
knew  to  be  desired  by  all  the  enlightened 
classes  of  France  except  themselves,  and 
which  demolition  only  made  room  for 
the  dreadful  triumvirate, — Dunton,  Robes- 
pierre, and  ^larat. 

But  we  also  sec,  from  this  and  other  pas- 
sages, that  there  existed  feelings,  both  in 
Paris  and  in  the  departments,  which,  if  the 
Convention  had  made  a  manly  appeal  to 
them,  might  have  saved  the  King's  life,  and 
prevented  the  Reign  of  Terror.  There 
began  to  arise  more  obvious  signs  of  dis- 
affection to  the  rulers,  and  of  interest  in 
the  King's  fate.  These  were  increased 
when  he  was  brought  before  the  Conven- 
tion for  examination,  an  occasion  upon 
which  Louis  was  treated  with  the  same 
marked  appearance  of  premeditated  insult, 
which  had  been  offered  to  him  when  in 
his  dungeon.  He  had  as  yet  been  allowed 
to  enjoy  the  society  of  his  son,  though  his 
intercourse  with  the  other  members  of  the 
family  had  been  much  abridged.  He  waa 
passionately  attached  to  this  unhappy  son, 
who  answered  his  affection,  and  showed 
early  token  of  talents  which  were  doomed 
never  to  blossom.  It  was  the  cruel  resolu- 
tion of  his  jailors  to  take  the  boy  from  hi* 
father  on  the  very  morning"  when  Louis 
was  to  undergo  an  interrogatory  before 
the  Convention.  In  other  words,  to  give 
the  deepest  blow  to  his  feelings,  at  the  verj 
moment  when  it  was  necessary  he  should 
combine  his  whole  mental  powers  for  de- 
fending his  life  against  his  subtle  and  pow- 
erful enemies. 

This  cruel  measure  produced  in  eom« 
respect  the  effect  desired.  The  King  tes- 
tified more  deep  aifliction  than  he  had  yet 
manifested.  The  child  was  playing  at  the 
game  called  Siam  with  his  father,  and,  bj 


*  Jlth  December. 


134 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIIL 


no  effort  could  the  Dauphin  get  beyond  the 
number  stxteen.  "  That  is  a  very  unlucky 
number,"  said  the  child.  "True,  indeed, 
my  child.  I  have  long  had  reason  to  think 
60,  my  son,"  answered  the  King.  This 
petty  omen  seemed  soon  accomplished  by 
the  commissioners  of  the  Assembly,  who, 
without  deigning  further  explanation  than 
that  Louis  must  prepare  to  receive  the 
Mayor  of  Paris,  tore  the  child  from  his 
father,  and  left  him  to  his  sorrow.  In  about 
two  hours,  during  which  the  trampling  of 
many  horses  was  heard,  and  a  formidable 
body  of  troops  with  artillery  were  drawn 
up  around  the  prison,  the  mayor  appeared, 
a  man  called  Chambon,  weak  and  illiterate, 
the  willing  tool  of  the  ferocious  Communi- 
ty in  which  he  presided.  He  read  to  the 
King  the  decree  of  the  Convention,  that 
Louis  Capet  should  be  brought  to  their  bar. 
"  Capet,"  answered  Louis,  "  is  not  my 
name — it  was  that  of  one  of  my  ancestors. 
I  could  have  wished  that  I  had  not  been 
deprived  of  the  society  of  my  son  during 
the  two  hours  I  have  expected  you — but  it 
is  only  of  a  piece  with  the  usage  I  have  ex- 
perienced for  four  months.  I  will  attend 
you  to  the  Convention,  not  as  acknowledg- 
ing their  right  to  summon  me,  but  because 
I  yield  to  the  superior  power  of  my  ene- 
mies." 

The  crowd  pressed  much  on  the  King 
during  the  passage  from  the  Temple  to  the 
Tuilleries,  where  the  Convention  had  now 
established  their  sittings,  as  men  who  had 
Blain  and  taken  possession.  Loud  cries 
were  heard,  demanding  the  life  of  the  ty- 
rant ;  yet  Louis  preserved  the  most  perfect 
composure,  even  when  he  found  himself 
standing  as  a  criminal  before  an  assembly 
of  his  native  subjects,  born  most  of  them 
in  a  rank  which  excluded  them  from  judi- 
cial offices,  till  he  himself  had  granted  the 
privilege. 

"  Louis,"  said  the  President,  (the  versa- 
tile, timorous,  but  subtle  Barrere,) "  you  may 
be  seated."  The  King  sat  down  according- 
ly, and  listened  without  apparent  emotion 
to  a  long  act  of  accusation,  in  which  every 
accident  that  had  arisen  out  of  the  Revolu- 
tion was  gravely  charged  eis  a  point  of  in- 
dictment against  the  King.  He  replied  by 
short  laconic  answers,  which  evinced  great 
presence  of  mind  and  composure,  and  al- 
leged the  decrees  of  the  National  Assem- 
bly as  authority  for  the  affair  of  Nancy,  and 
the  firing  on  the  people  in  the  Champ-de- 
Mars,  both  of  which  were  urged  against 
him  as  aggressions  on  the  people.  One  or 
two  replies  we  cannot  omit  inserting. 

■'  You  are  accused,"  said  the  President, 
"  of  having  authorized  money  to  be  dis- 
tributed to  poor  unknowns  in  the  suburb 
of  Saint  Antoine.  What  have  you  to  re- 
ply ?" — "  That  I  know  no  greater  pleasure," 
answered  Louis,  "  than  in  giving  assistance 
to,  the  needy." — "You  held  a  review  of  the 
Swiss  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the 
10th  of  August." — "  I  did,"  replied  the  King, 
''  review  the  troops  that  were  about  my 
person.  It  was  in  presence  of  the  consti- 
tuted authorities,  the  department,  and  the 
Mayor  of  Paris— I  had  seqt  in  vain  to  re- 


quest from  the  Convention  a  deputation  of 
its  members,  and  I  came  with  my  family 
to  place  myself  in  their  hands." — "  Why 
did  you  double  the  strength  of  the  Swiss 
(iuards  at  that  time  ?"  demanded  the  Presi- 
dent.— "  It  was  done  with  the  knowledge 
of  all  the  constituted  authorities,"  said  the 
King,  in  a  tone  of  perfect  composure  ;  "  I 
was  myself  a  constituted  authority,  I  have 
aright  to  defend  my  office." — "  You  have 
caused,"  said  the  President,  "  the  blood 
of  Frenchmen  to  be  shed.  What  have  you 
to  reply  ?" — "It  was  not  I  who  caused  it," 
answered  Louis,  speaking  with  more  em- 
phasis than  he  had  before  used. 

The  King  was  carried  back  to  his  prison, 
amid  threats  and  abuse  from  the  same  ban- 
ditti whose  ranks  he  had  before   traversed. 

In  replying  to  the  articles  alleged  against 
him,  Louis  had  followed  a  different  course 
from  Charles,  who  refused  to  plead  before 
the  tribunal  at  which  he  was  arraigned. 
The  latter  acted  w'ith  the  high  spirit  of  a 
prince,  unwilling  to  derogate  from  the  hon- 
our of  the  crown  he  had  worn  j  the  former, 
as  a  man  of  honour  and  probity,  was  desirous 
of  defending  his  character  wherever  it 
should  be  attacked,  without  stopping  to 
question  the  authority  of  the  court  which 
was  met  to  try  him. 

A  great  tumult  followed  in  the  Assembly 
the  moment  when  the  King  had  withdrawn 
from  the  Hall.  The  Jacobins  became  sen- 
sible that  the  scene  which  had  just  pass- 
ed had  deeply  affected  many  of  the  neu- 
tral party,  and  was  not  unlikely  to  influ- 
ence their  final  votes.  They  demanded 
an  instant  decree  of  condemnation,  and 
that  in  the  name  of  the  oppressed  people. 
"  You  who  have  heard  the  tyrant,''  said 
Billaud  de  Varennes,  "  ought  in  justice  to 
hear  the  people  whom  he  has  oppressed." 
The  Convention  knew  well  what  was  meant 
by  the  appearance  of  the  people  at  the  bar, 
and  while  they  trembled  at  this  threat, 
Duhem  made  a  motion  that  the  King  should 
be  executed  that  very  night.  The  majority, 
however,  retained  too  much  pense  of  shame 
to  permit  themselves  to  be  hurried  far- 
ther that  evening.  They  indulged  the 
King  with  the  selection  of  counsel  to  de- 
fend him. 

The  monarch,  on  returning  to  his  prison, 
had  found  he  was  doomed  to  solitary  con- 
finement. All  intercourse  with  his  family 
was  denied  him.  He  wept,  but  neither 
wife,  sister,  nor  child,  was  permitted  to 
share  his  tears.  It  was  for  the  fate  of  his 
son  that  he  showed  the  deepest  interest. 
Yet,  anxious  as  his  apprehensions  were, 
they  could  not  reach  the  extremities  to 
which  the  child  was  reduced.  The  heart 
of  man  could  not  have  imagined  the  cruelty 
of  his  lot. 

Louis  chose  for  his  counsel  two  lawyers 
of  celebrity,  carefully  selecting  such  as  he 
thought  would  incur  least  risk  of  danger  by 
the  task  imposed.  One  of  these,  Tronchet, 
was  too  sensible  to  the  honour  of  hie  pro- 
fession to  hesitate  a  moment  in  accepting 
the  perilous  office  ;  but  the  other,  Target, 
refused  to  undertake  it.  The  phrase  used 
by  this  unworthy  jurisconsult  seemed  to 


Chap.  XIII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


135 


involve  the  King's  condemnation.  '•'  A 
free  republican,"  he  said,  "  ought  not  to 
undertake  functions  of  which  he  feels  him- 
self incapable."  Timid  as  the  Convention 
was,  this  excuse  was  heard  with  disappro- 
bation. It  was  declaring  that  the  defence 
of  the  King  was  untenable  by  any  friend  of 
the  present  system. 

Several  persons  offered  their  services 
with  voluntary  devotion,  but  the  preference 
was  claimed  by  Lamoignon  Malesherbes, 
who,  twice  called  by  Louis  to  be  a  member 
of  his  council,  when  the  office  was  the  ob- 
ject of  general  ambition,  alleged  his  right 
to  a  similar  function,  when  others  might 
reckon  it  dangerous.  This  burst  of  honour- 
able self-devotion  awakened  a  sentiment  of 
honour  in  the  Convention,  which,  could  it  ' 
have  lasted,  might  have  even  yet  prevented  | 
a  great  national  crime.  ' 

Paris  began  to  show  symptoms  of  return-  , 
ing  interest  in  the  person  of  Louis.    The  ' 
oft-repeated  calumnies  against  liim  seemed 
to  lose  their  influence  on  all  but  the  igno- 
rant  multitude,  and  hired  bandits.     The 
honest    devotion   of   Malesherbes,  whose 
character  was  known  through  the  nation  as  I 
a  man  of  talent,  honour,  and  probity,  re-  j 
fleeted  a  forcible  light  on  that  of  his  royal  I 
client,  who  had,  in  the  hour  of  need,  found  ! 
such  a  defender.     De  Seze,  an  excellent  j 
lawyer,  was  afterwards  added  to  the  King's  i 
band  of  counsel ;  but  the  King  gained  little 
more  by  this  indulgence,  excepting  the  con-  j 
Bolation  of  communicating  with  such  men  j 
aa  Malesherbes  and  his  two  associates,  at  a 
time  when  no  other  friend  was  suffered  to 
approach  him,  excepting  the  faithful  Clery, 
his  valet-de-chambre.* 

The   lawyers    entertained   some   hopes, 
and,  in  the  spirit  of  their  frofession,  exult- 
ed when  they  saw  how  ficts  contradicted 
the  charges  of  the  prosecutors.    "  Mode- 
rate   your  satisfaction,   my  friends,"  said 
Louis  ;  "  all  these  favourable  circumstanc- 
es are  well  known  to  the  gentlemen  of  the 
Convention,  and  if  they  considered  them  as 
entitled  to  weight  in  my  favour,  I  should  I 
not  be  in  this  difficulty.     You  take.  I  fear,  I 
a  fruitless  task  in  hand,  but  let  us  perform 
it  as  a  last  duty."     When  the  terra  of  his 
second  appearance   at  the  Convention  ar-  j 
rived,  ne  expressed  anxiety  at  the  thoughts 
of  appearing  before  them  with  his  beard 
and  hair  overgrown,  owing  to  his  being  de- 
prived of  razors  and  scissors.     "  Were  it 
not  better  your  Majesty  went  as  you  are  at  ! 
present,"  said  the  faithful  Clery^  ■'  that  all  | 
men  may  see  the  usage  you  have  received?"  ! 
— "  It  does  not  become  me,"  answered  the  i 
King,  ■'  to  seek  to  obtain  pity."     With  the  i 
same  spirit,  he  commanded  his  advocates  ' 
to  avoid  all  appeals  to  the  passions  or  the  , 
feeling^  of  the  judges  and  audience,  and  to  I 
rest  his  defence  exclusively  upon  logical  . 
deductions  from  the  evidence  produced. 

•  Clery  we  have  seen  and  known,  and  the  form 
and  manners  of  that  model  of  prUtine  faith  and  | 
lofaky  can  never  be  forgotten.  Gentlemanlike  | 
and  complaisant  in  his  manners,  his  deep  gravity 
and  melancholy  features  announced,  that  the  =a(l  ! 
•penes  in  which  he  had  acted  a  part  so  honouraUN',  | 
were  never  for  a  moment  out  of  his  memory.  < 


When  summoned  to  the  Convention, 
Louis  was  compelled  to  wait  for  a  time  in 
the  outer  hall,  where  he  walked  about  con- 
versing with  his  counsel.  A  deputy  who 
passed,  heard  Malesherbes  during  this  inter- 
course use  to  his  royal  client  the  courtesies 
of  Sire — Your  Majesty.  "  \Vhat  renders 
you  so  bold."  he  said,  "  that  you  utter 
these  prohibited  expressions  ?" — "  Con- 
tempt of  life,"  answered  the  generous  Male- 
sherbes. 

De  Seze  opened  his  case  with  great  abil- 
ity. He  pleaded  with  animation  the  right 
which  the  King  had  to  the  character  of  in- 
violability, a  right  confirmed  to  him  by  the 
Legislative  Assembly  after  the  flight  to 
Varennes,  and  which  implied  a  complete 
indemnity  for  that  crime,  even  supposing  a 
journey  from  his  capital  in  a  post  carriage, 
with  a  few  attendants,  could  be  deemed 
criminal.  But  he  urged  that,  if  the  Con- 
vention did  not  respect  his  inviolability — 
if,  in  a  word,  they  did  not  consider  him  as 
a  King,  he  was  then  entitled  to  the  formal 
securities  provided  for  every  citizen  by  the 
laws.  He  ridiculed  tlie  idea  that,  with  a  tri- 
fling force  of  Swiss,  Louis  could  meditate 
any  serious  injury  against  the  Convention. 
"  He  prepared,"  said  De  Seze,  "  for  his  de- 
fence, as  you  citizens  would  doubtless  do, 
when  you  heard  that  an  armed  multitude 
were  on  their  way  to  surprise  you  in  your 
sanctuary."  He  closed  an  excellent  plead- 
ing with  an  enumeration  of  the  benefits 
which  Louis  had  conferred  on  the  French 
nation,  and  reminded  them  that  their  King 
had  given  them  liberty  so  soon  as  they  de- 
sired to  be  free.  Louis  himself  said  a  few 
words  with  much  firmness.  He  was  re- 
manded to  the  Temple,  and  a  stormy  de- 
bate commenced. 

At  first,  the  Jacobins  attempted  to  carry 
all  by  a  clamorous  demand  of  the  vote. 
Lanjuinais  replied  to  them  with  unexpect- 
ed spirit,  charged  them  with  planning  and 
instigating  the  assault  on  the  10th  of  Au- 
gust, and  then  with  turning  on  the  King  the 
blame  which  justly  lay  with  themselves 
alone.  Dreadful  outcries  followed  this  true 
and  intrepid  speech.  '•'  Let  the  friends  of 
the  despot  die  with  him  !"  was  the  general 
exclamation  of  the  Jacobins ;  "  to  the  Ab- 
bay — to  the  scaffold  with  the  perjured  dep- 
uty, who  slanders  the  glorious  10th  of  Au- 
gust !" — 'Be  it  so,"  answered  Lanjuinais. 
"  Better  death,  than  the  crime  of  pronounc- 
ing an  unjust  sentence." 

The  Ciirondists  were  too  much  themse  ves 
accessory  to  the  attack  on  the  Tuilleries  to 
follow  this  bold  and  manly  line  of  defence, 
and  Lanjuinais  stood  unsupported  in  his 
opinion. 

Saint  Just  and  Robespierre  eagerly  call- 
ed for  a  doom  of  death.  The  former  ac- 
cused the  King  of  a  design  to  cheat  the 
people  out  of  their  liberties  by  a  pretended 
show  of  submission  to  their  will,  and  an 
affected  moderation  in  exercising  his  an 
thority.  On  the  10th  of  August,  (he  had  the 
effrontery  to  state  tliis,)  the  King,  entering 
the  hall  of  the  Convention  with  armed  fol- 
lowers, (the  small  escort  who  had  difficulty 
in  protecting  him  through  the  armed  crowd,) 


136 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  xm. 


had  Tiolated  the  asylum  of  the  laws.  Be- 
sides, as  he  triumphantly  concluded,  was  it 
for  a  people  who  had  declared  war  against 
all  the  tyrants  in  the  world,  to  sorrow  for 
the  fate  of  their  own  ?  Robespierre  openly 
disowned  the  application  of  legal  forms, 
and  written  rubricks  of  law,  to  such  a  case 
as  was  before  the  Convention.  The  people 
who  had  asserted  their  own  right  in  wrest- 
ing the  sceptre  from  the  hands  of  Louis, 
had  a  right  to  punish  him  for  having  swayed 
it.  He  talked  of  the  case  being  already 
decided  by  the  unanimous  voice  and  act  of 
the  people,  from  whom  all  legal  authority 
emanated,  and  whose  authority  was  para- 
mount to  that  of  the  Convention,  which 
were  only  their  representatives. 

Vergniaud,  the  most  eloquent  of  the  Gi- 
rondists found  nothing  better  to  propose, 
than  that  the  case  of  Louis  should  be  de- 
cided by  an  appeal  to  the  nation.  He  al- 
leged that  the  people,  who,  in  solemn  fed- 
eration had  sworn,  in  the  Champ-de-Mars, 
to  recognise  the  Constitution,  had  thereby 
sworn  the  inviolability  of  the  King.  This 
was  truly  said  ;  but,  such  being  the  case, 
what  right  had  the  Convention  to  protract 
the  King's  trial  by  sending  the  case  from 
before  themselves  to  the  people  ?  If  his 
inviolability  had  been  formally  admitted 
and  sworn  to  by  the  nation,  what  had  the 
Convention  more  to  do  than  recognise  the 
inviolability  with  which  the  nation  had  in- 
vested the  monarch,  and  dismiss  him  from 
the  bar  accordingly  ? 

The  explanation  lay  here  ; — that  the  elo- 
quent orator  was  hampered  and  constrain- 
ed in  his  reasoning,  by  the  difficulty  of  rec- 
onciling his  own  conduct,  and  that  of  his 
associates,  to  the  principles  which  he  was 
now  willing  to  adopt  as  those  that  were  just 
and  legal.  If  the  person  of  the  King  was 
indeed  inviolable,  what  was  to  be  thought 
of  their  consistency,  who,  by  the  means  of 
their  daring  and  devoted  associates,  Barba- 
rous and  Rebecque,had  actually  brought  up 
the  force  of  Marseillois  who  led  the  van, 
and  were,  in  fact,  the  efficient  and  almost  the 
only  means  by  which  the  palace  of  that 
inviolable  sovereign  was  stormed,  his 
guards  slaughtered,  his  person  committed 
to  prison,  and,  finally,  his  life  brought  in 
danger  ?  It  was  the  obvious  and  personal 
answer  arising  out  of  their  own  previous 
manoeuvres,  the  argumentum  ad  hominem, 
as  it  is  called  by  logicians,  which  hung  a 
padlock  on  the  lips  of  the  eloquent  Vergni- 
aud,  while  uaing  the  argument  which,  in  it- 
self most  just  and  true,  was  irreconcilable 
with  the  revolutionary  measures  to  which 
he  had  been  an  express  party.  "  Do  not 
evil,  that  good  may  come  of  it,"  is  a  lesson 
which  may  be  learned,  not  indeed  in  the 
transcendental  philosophy  which  authorizes 
the  acting  of  instant  and  admitted  wrong, 
with  the  view  of  obtaining  some  distant, 
hypothetical,  and  contingent  good;  but  in 
\he  rules  of  Christian  faith  and  true  philos- 
ophy, which  commands  that  each  case  be 
weighed  on  its  own  circumstances,  and  de- 
cided upon  the  immutable  rules  of  right  or 
wroDg,  without  admitting  any  subterfuge 


founded  on  the  hope  of  remote  contingen 
cies  and  future  consequences. 

But  Vergniaud's  oratory  was  freed  from 
these  unhappy  trammels,  when,  with  the 
fervour  of  a  poet,  and  the  inspiration  of  a 
prophet,  he  declaimed  against  the  faction 
of  Jacobins,  and  announced  the  consequen- 
ces of  that  sanguinary  body's  ascending  to 
supreme  power,  by  placing  their  first  step 
on  the  body  of  Louis.  The  picture  whicn 
he  drew  of  the  coming  evil  seemed  too  hor- 
rible for  reality  ;  and  yet  the  scenes  which 
followed  even  more  than  realized  the  pre- 
dictions of  the  baffled  republican,  who  saw 
too  late  and  too  clearly  the  tragic  conclu- 
sion of  the  scenes,  in  which  he  had  born» 
so  active  a  part. 

The  appeal  to  the  people,  or  to  the  nv 
tion,  had  been  argued  against  by  the  Jaco- 
bin speakers,  as  opening  the  nearest  road 
to  civil  war.  Indeed  it  was  one  of  the  ma- 
ny objections  to  this  intermediate  and  eva- 
sive plan,  that  the  people  of  France,  con 
vened  in  their  different  bodies,  were  likely 
to  come  to  very  different  conclusions  on 
the  King's  impeachment.  Where  the  Jac- 
obin clubs  were  strong  and  numerous,  they 
would  have  been  sure,  according  to  tho 
maxim  of  their  unitm,  touse  the  compulso- 
ry but  ready  means  of  open  violence,  to 
disturb  the  freedom  of  voting  on  this  impor- 
tant question,  and  would  thus  have  carried 
by  forcible  measures  tlie  vote  of  death.  In 
departments  in  which  Constitutionalists  and 
Royalists  had  strong  interest,  it  was  proba- 
ble that  force  would  have  been  repelled  by 
force ;  and  upon  the  whole,  in  France, 
where  the  law  had  been  long  a  dead  letter, 
the  arbitrament  of  the  nation  on  the  King's 
fate  must  and  would  have  proved  a  bloody 
one. 

But  from  that  picture  which  must  have 
followed  the  success  of  his  party  on  this 
memorable  occasion,  Vergniaud  pSdeavour- 
ed  to  avert  the  thoughts  of  his  hearers,  i 
while  he  strove  to  fis  them  oh  the  crimei 
and  criminal  ambition  of  the  Jacobins. 

"It  is  they  who  wish  civil  wer,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  who  threaten  with  daggers  the 
National  Convention  of  France — they  who 
preach  in  the  tribune,  and  in  the  market- 
plDce  doctrines  subversive  of  all  social  or- 
der. They  are  the  men  who  desire  civil 
war,  who  accuse  justice  of  pusillanimity, 
because  she  will  not  strike  before  convic- 
tion— who  call  common  humanity  a  proof 
of  conspiracy,  and  accuse  all  those  as  trai- 
tors to  their  country  who  will  not  join  in 
acts  of  robbery  and  assassination — those,  in 
fine,  who  pervert  every  sentiment  and  prin- 
ciple of  morality,  and  by  the  grossest  flatte- 
ries endeavour  to  gain  the  popular  assent 
and  countenance  to  the  most  detestable 
crimes."  He  dissected  the  arts  of  tho 
demagogues  in  terms  equally  just  and  se- 
vere. They  had  been  artfully  referred  t« 
the  Temple  as  the  cause  of  every  distress 
under  which  the  populace  laboured ;  after 
the  death  of  Louis,  which  they  so  eagerly 
pursued,  they  would  have  the  same  reasons 
and  the  same  power  for  directing  the  odium 
of  every  distress  or  misfortune  against  thA 


Chop.  XIIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


137 


Convention,  and  making  the  representa- 
tives of  France  equally  obnoxious  to  the 
people,  as  they  had  now  rendered  the  de- 
throned King.  He  concluded  with  a  horri- 
ble picture  of  Paris  under  the  dominion  of 
Jacobinism,  which  was,  however,  exceeded 
by  the  facts  that  ensued.  "  To  what  hor- 
rors," he  said,  "  will  not  Paris  be  delivered, 
when  she  becomes  the  prey  of  a  horde  of 
desperate  assassins  ?  Who  will  inhabit  a 
city,  where  Death  and  Desolation  will  then 
fix  their  court  ?  Who  will  console  the  ru- 
ined citizen,  stripped  of  the  wealth  he  has 
honourably  acquired,  or  relieve  the  wants 
of  his  family,  which  his  exertions  can  no 
longer  supply  ?  Go  in  that  hour  of  need." 
he  continued,  '•  and  ask  bread  of  those  who 
have  precipitated  you  from  competence  in- 
to ruin,  and  they  will  answer,  '  Hence  ! 
dispute  with  hungry  hounds  for  the  carcases 
of  those  we  have  last  murdered — or,  if  you 
would  drink,  here  is  the  blood  we  have 
lately  shed — other  nourishment  we  have 
none  to  afford  you  I'  " 

The  eloquence  of  Vergniaud,  and  the  ex- 
ertions of  his  associates,  were  in  vain.  Bar- 
rere,  the  auxiliary  of  the  Jacobins,  thoughr* 
scarcely  the  partaker  of  their  coiifiJence, 
drew  off  as  usual  many  of  the  timid  host  of 
neutrals,  by  alleging  specious  reasons,  of 
which  the  convincing  power  lay  in  this, 
that  they  must  consult  their  own  safety 
rather  than  the  cause  of  justice.  The  ap- 
peal to  the  people,  on  which  the  Girondists 
relied  as  the  means  of  reprieving  rather 
than  saving  the  King — of  giving  their  con- 
Bciences  the  quieting  opiate  that  he  died 
not  by  their  direct  agency — was  rejected 
by  four  hundred  and  twenty  voices  against 
two  hundred  and  eighty-one.  A  decisive 
appeal  was  made  to  the  Constitution  on 
the  question,  to  what  punishment  the  de- 
throned monarch  should  be  subjected. 

The  bravos  of  the  Jacobins  surrounded 
the  place  of  meeting  on  every  point  of  ac- 
cess while  this  final  vote  was  called,  and, 
to  men  already  affrighted  with  their  situa- 
tion, added  every  motive  of  terror  that 
words,  and  sometimes  acts  of  violence, 
could  convey;  "  Think  not,"  they  said, 
"to  rob  the  people  of  their  prey.  If  you 
acquit  Louis,  we  go  instantly  to  the  Tem- 
ple to  destroy  him  with  his  whole  fam- 
ily, and  we  add  to  his  massacre  that  of  all 
who  befriended  him."  Undoubtedly,  among 
the  terrified  deputies,  there  were  some 
moved  by  these  horrible  arguments,  who 
conceived  that,  in  giving  a  vote  for  Louis's 
life,  they  would  endanger  their  own,  with- 
out saving  him.  Still,  however,  among  this 
overawed  and  trembling  band  of  judges, 
there  were  many  whose  hearts  failed  them 
aa  they  reflected  on  the  crime  they  were 
about  to  commit,  and  who  endeavoured  to 
find  some  evasion  stopping  short  of  regi- 
cide. Captivity  till  the  peace  was  in 
general  proposed  as  a  compo.^ition.  The 
philosophical  humanity  of  Condorcet  threw 
in  fetters,  to  make  the  condition  more  ac- 
ceptable to  the  Jacobins.  Others  voted  for 
death  conditionally.  The  most  intense  anx- 
iety prevailed  during  the  vote  ;  and  even 
the  banditti  in  the  tribunes  suspended  their 


usual  howls,  and  only  murmured  death  to 
the  voter,  when  the  opinion  given  was  for 
the  more  lenient  punishment.  When  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  who  had  returned  from 
England  on  t!.e  fall  of  La  Fayette,  and  sat 
as  a  member  of  the  Convention,  under  the 
absurd  name  of  Citizen  L'Egalite — when 
this  base  prince  was  asked  his  vote,  there 
was  a  deep  pause ;  and  when  the  answer 
proved  Death,  a  momentary  horror  electri- 
fied the  auditors.  When  the  voices  were 
numbered,  the  direct  doom  was  carried  by 
a  majority  of  fifty-three,  being  the  differ- 
ence between  three  hundred  and  eighty- 
seven  and  three  hundred  and  ihirty-four. 
The  President  announced  that  the  doom  of 
Death  was  pronounced  against  Louis  Ca- 
pet, 

Let  none,  we  repeat,  dishonour  the  paral- 
lel passage  in  England's  history,  by  com- 
paring it  with  this  disgraceful  act  of  mur- 
der, committed  by  a  few  in  rabid  fury  of 
gain,  by  the  greater  part  in  mere  panic  and 
cowardice.  That  deed,  which  Algernon 
Sidney  pronounced  the  bravest  and  justest 
ever  done  in  England, — that /acintM  tamil- 
lustre  of  Milton, — was  acted  by  men,  from 
whose  principles  and  feelings  we  differ  en- 
tirely ;  but  not  more  than  the  ambition  of 
Cromwell  differed  from  that  of  the  blood- 
thirsty and  envious  Robespierre,  or  the  po- 
litical views  of  Hutchinson  and  his  asso- 
ciates, who  acted  all  in  honour,  from  those 
of  the  timid  and  pedantic  Girondists. 

The  same  palsy  of  the  mind  which  had 
annihilated  the  courage  of  the  Convention, 
pervaded  Paris.  There  was  a  general  feel- 
ing for  the  King's  condition,  a  wish  that  he 
might  be  saved,  but  which  never  became 
strong  enough  to  arise  into  the  resolution 
to  effect  his  safety,  Dumouriez  himself 
came  to  Paris  with  all  the  splendour  of  a 
conqueror,  whose  victory  at  Jemappes  had 
added  Belgium,  as  Flanders  began  to  be 
called,  to  the  French  nation  ;  and  there  can 
be  no  doubt,  that  whatever  might  be  his  ul- 
terior design,  which  his  situation  and  char- 
acter render  somewhat  doubtful,  his  pur- 
pose was,  in  the  first  place,  to  secure  the 
person  of  Louis  from  farther  danger  or  in- 
sult. But  conqueror  as  he  was,  Dumou- 
riez, though  more  favourably  placed  than 
La  Fayette  had  been  upon  a  similar  at- 
tempt, was  far  from  being,  with  respect  to 
Paris,  in  the  same  independent  situation  in 
which  Cromwell  had  been  to  London,  or 
Caesar  to  Rome, 

The  army  with  which  he  had  accomplish- 
ed his  victories  was  yet  but  half  his  own. 
Six  Commissioners  from  the  Convention, 
Danton  himself  being  the  principal,  had 
carefully  remained  at  his  head-quarters, 
watching  his  motions,  controlling  his  pow- 
er, encouraging  the  private  soldiers  of  each 
regiment  to  hold  Jacobin  clubs  exclusive 
of  the  authority  of  the  general,  studiously 
placing  in  their  recollection  at  every  in- 
stant, that  the  doctrines  of  liberty  and 
equality  rendered  the  soldier  to  a  certain 
point  independent  of  his  commander  ;  and 
reminding  them  that  they  conquered  by  the 
command  of  Dumouriez,  indeed,  but  under 
the  auspices  of  the  Republic,  to  whom  th« 


138 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


iChap.  XIU. 


general,  as  they  themselvee,  was  but  a  ser- 
vant and  factor.  The  more  absolute  the 
rule  of  a  community,  the  more  do  its  mem- 
bers enjoy  any  relaxation  of  such  severe 
bonds  ;  so  that  he  who  can  with  safety 
preach  a  decay  of  discipline  to  an  army,  of 
which  discipline  is  the  very  essence,  is 
sure  to  find  willing  listeners.  A  great  part 
of  Dumouriez's  army  was  unsettled  in  their 
minds  by  doctrines,  which  taught  an  inde- 
pendence of  official  authority  inconsistent 
with  their  situation  as  soldiers,  but  proper, 
they  were  assured,  to  their  quality  of  citi- 
zens. 

The  manner  in  which  Pache,  the  minis- 
ter of  war,  who,  brought  into  office  by  Ro- 
land, deserted  his  benefactor  to  join  the  Ja- 
cobin faction,  had  conducted  his  branch  of 
the  administration,  was  so  negligent,  that  it 
had  given  ground  for  serious  belief  that  it 
was  his  intention  to  cripple  the  resources 
of  the  armed  force  (at  whatever  risk  of  na- 
tional defeat,)!in  such  a  manner,  that  if  in 
their  disorganized  state  Dumouriez  had  at- 
tempted to  move  them  towards  Paris  for  in- 
suring the  safety  of  Louis,  he  should  find 
them  unfit  for  such  a  march.  The  army  had 
no  longer  draught-horses  for  the  artillery, 
and  was  in  want  of  all  with  which  a  regular 
body  of  forces  should  be  supplied.  Du- 
mouriez, according  to  his  own  account,  both 
from  the  want  of  equipments  of  every  kind, 
and  from  the  manner  in  which  the  Jacobin 
Commissioners  had  enfeebled  the  discipline 
of  his  troops,  could  not  have  moved  to- 
wards Paris  without  losing  the  command  of 
the  army,  and  his  head  to  boot,  before  he 
had  got  beyond  the  frontiers  of  Belgium. 

Dumouriez  had  detached,  however,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  statement,  a  considera- 
ble number  of  officers  and  confidential  per- 
sons, to  second  any  enterprise  which  he 
might  find  himself  capable  of  undertaking 
in  the  King's  behalf.  While  at  Paris,  he 
states  that  he  treated  with  every  faction  in 
turn,  attempting  even  to  move  Robespierre  ; 
and  through  means  of  his  own  intimate 
friend  Gensenn6,  he  renewed  his  more  nat- 
ural connexions  with  the  Girondists.  But 
the  one  party  were  too  determined  on  their 
bloody  object  to  be  diverted  from  it ;  the 
other,  disconcerted  in  viewing  the  result  of 
their  timid  and  ambiguous  attempt  to  carry 
through  an  appeal  to  the  people,  saw  no 
fiKther  chance  of  saving  the  King's  life  oth- 
erwise than  by  the  risk  of  their  own,  and 
chose  rather  to  be  executioners  than  vic- 
tims. 

Among  the  citizens  of  Paris,  many  of 
whom  Dumouriez  states  himself  to  have 
urged  with  the  argument,  that  the  Conven- 
tion, in  assuming  the  power  of  judging  the 
King,  had  exceeded  the  powers  granted  to 
them  by  the  nation,  he  found  hearers,  not 
indeed  uninterested  or  unmoved,  but  too 
lukewarm  to  promise  efficient  assistance. 
The  citizens  were  in  that  state,  in  which 
an  English  poet  has  said  of  them, — 

•«  Cold  burghers  must  be  struck,  and  struck  like 

flints, 
Ere  their  hid  fire  will  sparkle." 


With  the  natural  sense  of  right  and  justice, 
they  perceived  what  was  expected  of  them  ; 
but  felt  not  the  less  the  trammels  of  their 
situation,  and  hesitated  to  incur  the  fury  of 
a  popular  insurrection,  which  passiveness 
on  their  own  part  might  postpone  or  avert. 
They  listened  to  the  general  with  interest, 
but  without  enthusiasm ;  implored  him  to 
choose  a  less  dangerous  subject  of  conver- 
sation ;  and  spoke  of  the  power  of  the  Jac- 
obins, as  of  the  influence  of  a  tempest, 
which  mortal  efforts  could  not  withstand. 
With  one  man  of  worth  and  confidence, 
Dumouriez  pressed  the  conversation  on  the 
meanness  of  suffering  the  city  to  be  govern- 
ed by  two  or  three  thousand  banditti,  till 
the  citizen  looked  on  the  ground  and  blush- 
ed, as  he  made  the  degrading  confession, — 
"  I  see,  citizen-general,  to  what  conclusion 
your  argument  tends  ;  but  we  are  cowards, 
and  the  King  must  perish.  What  exertion 
of  spirit  can  you  expect  from  a  city,  which, 
having  under  arms  eighty-thousand  well- 
trained  militia,  suffered  themselves,  not- 
withstanding, to  be  domineered  over  and  dis- 
armed by  a  comparative  handful  of  rascally 
Federates  from  Brest  and  Marseilles  1"  The 
hint  was  sufficient.  Dumouriez,  who  was 
involved  in  much  personal  danger,  desisted 
from  efforts,  in  which  he  could  only  com- 
promise his  own  safety  without  insuring 
that  of  the  King.  He  affirms,  that  during 
twenty  days'  residence  near  Paris  he  wit- 
nessed no  effort,  either  public  or  private,  to 
avert  the  King's  fate  ;  and  that  the  only 
feelings  which  prevailed  among  the  higher 
clEisses,  were  those  of  consternation  and  ap- 
athy. 

It  was  then  especially  to  be  regretted, 
that  an  emigration,  certainly  premature, 
had  drained  the  country  of  those  fiery  and 
gallant  nobles,  whose  blood  would  have 
been  so  readily  ventured  in  defence  of  the 
King.  Five  hundred  men  of  high  charac- 
ter and  determined  bravery  would  probably 
have  been  seconded  by  the  whole  burgher- 
force  of  Paris,  and  might  have  bid  open 
defiance  to  the  Federates,  or,  by  some  sud- 
den and  bold  attempt,  snatched  from  their 
hands  their  intended  victim.  Five  hun- 
dred— but  five  hundred — of  those  who  were 
winning  barren  laurels  under  Conde,  or, 
yet  more  unhappily,  were  subsisting  on  the 
charity  of  foreign  nations,  might  at  this  mo- 
ment, could  they  have  been  collected  in 
Paris,  have  accomplished  the  purpose  for 
which  they  themselves  most  desired  to 
live,  by  saving  the  life  of  their  unhappy 
sovereign.  But  although  powerful  reasons, 
and  yet  more  aggrieved  feelings,  had  recom- 
mended the  emigration  from  that  country, 
it  operated  like  the  common  experiment  of 
the  Leyden  phial,  one  side  of  which  being 
charged  with  an  uncommon  quantity  of  the 
electrical  fluid,  has  the  effect  of  creating  a 
deficiency  of  the  same  essence  upon  the 
other.  In  the  interior  of  France,  the  spirit 
of  loyalty  was  at  the  lowest  ebb ;  because 
those  upon  whom  it  especially  acted  as  a 
principle,  were  divided  from  the  rest  of  the 
nation,  to  whom  they  would  otherwise 
have  afforded  both  encouragement  and  ex- 
ample. 


Cha^.  xni] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


139 


The  sacrifice  therefore  was  to  be  made — 
made  in  ppite  of  those  who  certainly  com- 
posed the  great  majority  of  Paris,  at  least 
of  such  as  were  capable  of  reflection, — in 
epite  of  the  commander  of  the  army,  Du- 
mouriez, — in  spite  of  the  consciences  of 
tlie  Girondists,  who,  while  they  affected  an 
air  of  republican  stoicism,  saw  plainly,  and 
were  fully  sensible  of  the  great  political  er- 
ror, the  great  moral  sin  they  were  about  to 
commit. 

Undoubtedly  they  expected,  that  by  joining 
in,  or  acquiescing  in  at  least,  if  not  author- 
ising, this  unnecessary  and  wanton  cruelty, 
they  should  establish  their  character  with 
the  populace  as  firm  and  unshaken  republi- 
cans, who  had  not  hesitated  to  sacrifice  the 
King,  since  his  life  was  demanded  at  the 
ehrine  of  freedom.  They  were  not  long  of 
learning,  that  they  gained  nothing  by  their 
mean-spirited  acquiescence  in  a  crime 
which  their  souls  must  have  abhorred.  All 
were  sensible  that  the  Girondists  had  been 
all  along,  notwithstanding  their  theoretical 
pretensions  in  favour  of  a  popular  govern- 
ment, lingering  and  looking  back  with  some 
favour  to  the  dethroned  prince,  to  whose 
death  they  only  consented  in  sheer  cold- 
ness and  cowardice  of  heart,  because  it  re- 
Suired  to  be  defended  at  some  hazard  to 
leir  own  safety.  The  faults  at  once  of 
duplicity  and  cowardice  were  thus  fixed  on 
this  party  ;  who,  detested  by  the  Royalists, 
and  by  all  who  in  any  degree  harboured 
opinions  favourable  to  monarchy,  had  their 
lives  and  offices  sought  after  by  the  whole 
host  of  Jacobins  in  full  cry,  and  that  on  ac- 
count of  faint-spirited  wishes,  which  they 
had  scarcely  dared  even  to  attempt  to  ren- 
der efficient. 

On  the  21st  of  January  1793,  Louis  XVL 
was  publicly  beheaded  in  the  midst  of  his 
own  metropolis,  in  the  Place  Louis  Quiiize, 
erected  to  the  memory  of  his  grandfather. 
It  is  possible,  for  the  critical  eye  of  the  his- 
torian, to  discover  much  weakness  in  the 
conduct  of  this  unhappy  monarch  ;  for  he 
had  neither  the  determination  necessary  to 
fight  for  his  rights,  nor  the  power  of  sub- 
mitting with  apparent  indifference  to  cir- 
cumstances, where  resistance  inferred  dan- 
ger. He  submitted,  indeed,  but  with  so  bad 
a  grace,  that  he  only  made  himself  suspect- 
ed of  cowardice,  without  getting  credit  for 
voluntary  concession.  But  yet  his  behav- 
iour on  many  trying  occasions  efl'ectually 
vindicated  him  from  the  charge  of  timidity, 
and  showed  that  the  unwillingness  to  slied 
blood,  by  which  he  was  peculiarly  distin- 
guished, arose  from  benevolence,  not  from 
pusillanimity. 

Upon  the  scaffold,  he  behaved  with  the 
firmness  which  became  a  noble  spirit,  and 
the  patience  beseeming  one  who  was  recon- 
ciled to  Heaven.  As  one  of  the  few  marks 
of  sympathy  with  which  his  sufferings  were 
softened,  the  attendance  of  a  confessor  who 
had  not  taken  the  constitutional  oath,  was 
permitted  to  the  dethroned  monarch.  He 
who  undertook  the  honourable  but  danger- 
ous office,  was  a  gentleman  of  the  gifted  fam- 
ily of  Edgevi'orth  of  Edgeworthstown  ;  and 
the  devoted  zeal  with  which  he  rendered 


the  last  duties  to  Louis,  had  like  in  the  is- 
sue to  have  proved  fatal  to  himself.  As  the 
instrument  of  death  descended,  the  confes- 
sor pronounced  the  impressive  words, — 
"  Son  of  Saint  Louis,  ascend  to  Heaven  '." 

There  was  a  last  will  of  Louis  XVL  cir- 
culated upon  good  authority,  bearing  this 
remarkable  passage  : — "  I  recommend  to 
my  son,  should  he  have  the  misfortune  to 
become  King,  to  recollect  that  his  whole 
faculties  are  due  to  the  service  of  the  pub- 
lic ;  that  he  ought  to  consult  the  happiness 
of  his  people,  by  governing  according  to  the 
laws,  forgetting  all  injuries  and  misfor- 
tunes, and  in  particular  those  which  I  may 
have  sustained.  But  while  I  exhort  him  to 
govern  under  the  authority  of  the  laws,  I 
cannot  but  add,  that  this  will  be  only  in  his 
power,  in  so  far  as  he  shall  be  endowed 
with  authority  to  cause  right  to  be  respect- 
ed, and  wrong  punished  ;  and  that  without 
such  authority,  his  situation  in  the  govern- 
ment must  be  more  hurtful  than  advanta- 
geous to  the  state." 

Not  to  mingle  the  fate  of  the  illustrious 
victims  of  the  royal  family  with  the  general 
tale  of  the  sufferers  under  the  Reign  of  Ter- 
ror, we  must  here  mention  the  deaths  of 
the  rest  of  that  illustrious  house,  which 
closed  for  a  time  a  monarchy,  that,  existing 
through  three  dynasties,  had  given  sixty- 
si-t  kings  to  France. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed,  that  the  Queen 
was  to  be  long  permitted  to  survive  her 
husband.  She  had  been  even  more  than 
he  the  object  of  revolutionary  detestation; 
nay,  many  were  disposed  to  throw  on  Ma- 
rie Antoinette,  almost  exclusively,  the 
blame  of  those  measures,  which  they  con- 
sidered as  counter-revolutionary.  She  came 
to  France  a  gay,  young,  and  beautiful  Prin- 
cess— she  found  in  her  husband  a  faithful, 
affectionate,  almost  an  uxorious  husband. 
In  the  early  years  of  her  reign  she  was  guil- 
ty of  two  faults. 

In  the  first  place,  she  dispensed  too  much 
with  court-etiquette,  and  wished  too  often 
to  enjoy  a  retirement  and  freedom,  incon- 
sistent with  her  high  rank  and  the  customs 
of  the  court.  This  was  a  great  though  nat- 
ural mistake.  The  etiquette  of  a  court  pla- 
ces round  the  great  personages  whom  it  re- 
gards, a  close  and  troublesome  watch,  but 
that  very  guard  acts  a  barrier  against  cal- 
umny ;  and  when  these  formal  witnesses 
are  withdrawn,  evil  tongues  are  never  want- 
ing to  supply  with  infamous  reports  ablank 
which  no  testimony  can  be  brought  to  fill 
up  with  the  truth.  No  individual  suffered 
more  than  Mane  Antoinette  from  this  spe- 
cies of  slander,  which  imputed  the  most 
scandalous  occupations  to  hours  that  were 
only  meant  to  be  stolen  from  form  and  from 
state,  and  devoted  to  the  ease  which 
crowned  heads  ought  never  to  dream  of  en- 
joying. 

Another  natural,  yet  equally  false  step, 
was  her  interfering  more  frequently  with 
politics  than  became  her  sex  ;  exhibiting 
thus  her  power  over  the  King,  and  at  the 
same  time  lowering  him  in  the  eyes  of  his 
subjects,  who,  whatever  be  the  auspices 
under  which  their  own  domestic  affairs  are 


140 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XUL 


conducted,  are  always  scandalized  if  they 
see,  or  think  they  see,  anything  like  female 
influence  directing  the  councils  of  their 
sovereigns.  We  are  uncertain  what  degree 
of  credit  is  to  be  given  to  the  Memoirs  of 
Bezenval,  but  we  believe  they  approach 
near  the  truth  in  representing  the  Queen  as 
desirous  of  having  a  party  of  her  own,  and 
carrying  points  in  opposition  to  the  minis- 
ters ;  and  we  know  that  a  general  belief  of 
this  sort  was  the  first  foundation  of  the  fa- 
tal report,  that  an  Austrian  cabal  existed  in 
the  Court  of  France,  under  the  direction  of 
the  Queen,  which  was  supposed  to  sacri- 
fice the  interests  of  France  to  favour  those 
of  the  Emperor  of  Germany. 

The  terms  of  her  accusation  were  too 
basely  depraved  to  be  even  hinted  at  here. 
She  scorned  to  reply  to  it,  but  appealed  to 
all  who  had  been  mothers,  against  the  very 
possibility  of  the  horrors  which  were  stat- 
ed against  her.  The  widow  of  a  King,  the 
•ister  of  an  Emperor,  was  condemned  to 
death,  dragged  in  an  open  tumbril  to  the 
place  of  execution,  and  beheaded  on  the 
16th  October  1793.  She  suffered  death  in 
her  39th  year. 

The  Princess  Elizabeth,  sister  of  Louis, 
of  whom  it  might  be  said,  in  the  words  of 
Lord  Clarendon,  that  she  resembled  a  chap- 
el in  a  King's  palace,  into  which  nothing 
but  piety  and  morality  enter,  while  all 
around  is  filled  with  sin,  idleness,  and  fol- 
ly, did  not,  by  the  most  harmless  demean- 
our and  inoffensive  character,  escape  the 
miserable  fate  in  which  the  Jacobins  had 
determined  to  involve  the  whole  family  of 
Louis  XVI.  Part  of  the  accusation  re- 
doundci  to  tlie  honour  of  her  character. 
She  was  accused  of  having  admitted  to  the 
apartments  of  the  Tuilleries  some  of  the 
National  Guards,  of  the  section  of  Fillesde 
Saint  Thomas,  and  causing  the  wounds  to 
be  looked  to  which  they  had  received  in  a 
akirmish  with  the  Marseillois,  immediate- 
ly before  the  10th  of  August.  The  prin- 
cess admitted  her  having  done  so,  and  it 
waa  exactly  in  consistence  with  her  whole 
conduct.  Another  charge  stated  the  ridic- 
ulous accusation,  that  she  had  distributed 
bullets  chewed  by  herself  and  her  attend- 
ants, to  render  them  more  fatal,  to  the  de- 
fenders of  the  Castle  of  the  Tuilleries ;  a 


ridiculous  fable,  of  which  there  was  no 
proof  whatever      .'^he  was  beheaded  in  May 

1794,  and  met  her  death  as  became  the 
manner  in  wiiich  her  life  had  been  spent. 

We  are  weary  of  recounting  these  atroci- 
ties, as  others  must  be  of  reading  them. 
Yet  it  is  not  useless  that  men  should  see 
how  far  human  nature  can  be  carried,  in 
contradiction  to  every  feeling  the  most  sa- 
cred, to  every  pleading  whether  of  justice 
or  of  humanity.  The  Dauphin  we  have  al- 
ready described  as  a  promising  child  of  sev- 
en years  old,  an  age  at  which  no  offence 
could  have  been  given,  and  from  which  no 
danger  could  have  been  apprehended.  Nev- 
ertheless, it  was  resolved  to  destroy  the 
innocent  child,  and  by  means  to  which  or- 
dinary murders  seem  deeds  of  mercy. 

The  unhappy  boy  was  put  in  charge  of 
the  most  hard-hearted  villain  whom  the 
Community  of  Paris,  well  acquainted  where 
such  agents  were  to  be  found,  were  able  to 
select  from  their  band  of  Jacobins.  This 
wretch,  a  shoemaker  called  Simon,  asked 
his  employers,  "  what  was  to  be  done  with 
the  young  wolf-whelp  ;  was  he  to  be  slain  ?" 
_"  No."—"  Poisoned  ?"— •'  No."—"  Starv- 
ed to  death?"— "No."— "What  then?"— 
"  He  was  to  be  got  rid  of."  Accordingly, 
by  a  continuance  of  the  most  severe  treat- 
ment— by  beating,  cold,  vigils,  fasts,  and  ill 
usage  of  every  kind,  so  frail  a  blossom  was 
soon  blighted.  He  died  on  the  8th  June 
1795. 

After  this  last  horrible  crime,  there  was 
a  relaxation  in  favour  of  the  daughter,  and 
now  the  sole  child  of  this  unhappy  house. 
The  Princess  Royal,  whose  qualities  have 
since  honoured  even  her  birth  and  blood, 
experienced  from  this  period  a  mitigated 
captivity.     Finally,  on  the  19th  December 

1795,  this  last  remaining  relic  of  the  family 
of  Louis  was  permitted  to  leave  her  prison 
and  her  country,  in  exchange  for  La  Fay- 
ette and  others,  whom,  on  that  condition, 
Austria  delivered  from  captivity.  She  be- 
came afterwards  the  wife  of  her  cousin  tha 
Duke  d'Angouleme,  eldest  son  of  the  reign- 
ing monarch  of  France,  and  obtained,  by 
the  manner  in  which  she  conducted  her- 
self at  Bourdeaux  in  1815,  the  highest 
praise  for  gallantry  and  spirit. 


Ckap-  XIV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


141 


CHAP.  ZIV. 

Dumouriez — His  displeasure  at  the  Treatment  of  the  Flemish  Provinces  by  the  Convtn>- 
tion — His  Projects  in  consequence — Gains  the  ill-imll  of  his  Army — and  is  forced  to 
Jiy  to  the  Austrian  Camp — Lives  many  years  in  retreat,  and  finally  dies  in  England.— 
Struggles  betwixt  the  Girondists  and  Jacobins  in  the  Convention. — Robespierre  im- 
peaches the  Leaders  of  the  Girondists — and  is  denounced  by  them. — Decree  of  Accu- 
$ation  passed  against  Marat,  who  conceals  himself. — Commission  of  Tivelve  appoint- 
ed.— Marat  acquitted,  and  sent  back  to  the  Convention  with  a  Civic  Crown. —  Terror 
and  Indecision  of  the  Girondists. — Jacobins  prepare  to  attack  the  Palais  Royal,  but 
are  repulsed — Repair  to  the  Convention,  who  recall  the  Commission  of  Twelve. — Lou- 
vet  and  other  Girondist  Leaders  Jiy  from  Paris. — Convention  go  forth  in  Procession 
to  Expostulate  with  the  People — Forced  back  to  their  Hall,  and  compelled  to  Decree 
the  Accusation  of  Thirty  of  their  Body. — Girondists  finally  Ruined — and  their  Prin- 
cipal Leaders  perish  in  Prison,  by  the  Guillotine,  and  by  Famine — Close  of  their 
History. 


While  the  Republic  was  thus  indulging 
the  full  tyranny  of  irresistible  success  over 
the  remains  of  the  royal  family,  it  seemed 
about  to  sustain  a  severe  shock  from  one  of 
ita  own  children,  who  had  arisen  to  emi- 
nence by  its  paths.  This  was  Dumouriez, 
whom  we  left  victor  at  Jemappes,  and  con- 
queror, in  consequence,  of  the  Flemish 
provinces.  These  fair  possessions,  the 
Convention,  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, anne.xed  to  the  dominions  of  France  ; 
and  proceeded  to  pour  down  upon  them 
their  tax-gatherers,  commissaries,  and  ev- 
ery other  denomination  of  spoilers,  who  not 
only  robbed  without  ceremony  the  unfortu- 
nate inhabitants,  but  insulted  their  religion 
by  pillaging  and  defacing  their  churches. 
•et  their  laws  and  privileges  at  contempt, 
and  tyrannized  over  them  in  the  very  man- 
ner, which  had  so  recently  induced  the 
Flemings  to  offer  resistance  to  their  own 
hereditary  princes  of  the  House  of  Austria. 
Dumouriez,  naturally  proud  of  his  con- 
quest, felt  for  these  who  had  surrendered 
to  his  arms  upon  assurance  of  being  well 
treated,  and  was  sensible  that  his  own  hon- 
our and  influence  were  aimed  at;  and  that 
it  was  the  object  of  the  Convention  to  make 
use  of  his  abilities  only  as  their  implements, 
and  to  keep  his  army  in  a  state  of  complete 
dependence  upon  themselves. 

Tiie  general,  on  the  contrary,  had  the 
ambition  as  well  as  the  talents  of  a  con- 
queror;   he   considered   his   army   as   the 
means  of  attaining   the   victories,   which, 
without  him,  they  could  not  have  achieved, 
and  he  desired  to  retain  it  under  his  own 
immediate  command,  as  a  combatant  wish- 
es to  keep  hold  of  the  sword  which  he  has  i 
wielded  with  success.     He  accounted  him-  i 
•elf  strongly  possessed  of  the  hearts  of  his  ' 
soldiers,   and   therefore    thought    himself  I 
qualified  to  play  the  part  of  military  umpire  \ 
in   the   divisions  of  the  state,   which   La  • 
fayette  had  attempted  in  vain  ;  and  it  was  I 
with  tliis  view,  doubtless,  that  he  undertook 
that  expedition  to  Paris,  in  which   he   vain- 1 
ly  attempted  a  mediation  in  behalf  of  the 
King. 

.•^ftor  leaving  Paris,  Dumouriez  seems  to  I 

have    abandoned   Louis  personally   to   his 

fate,  yet  still  retaining  hopes  to  curb  the 

headlong  course  of  the  Revolution. 

Two  plans  presented  themselves  to  his 


fertile  invention,  nor  can  it  be  known  with 
certainty  to  which  he  most  inclined.  He 
may  have  entertained  the  idea  of  prevailinj^ 
upon  the  army  to  decide  for  the  youthful 
Dauphin  to  be  their  Constitutional  King; 
or,  as  many  have  thought,  it  may  better 
have  suited  his  personal  views  to  have  rec- 
ommended to  the  throne  a  gallant  young 
prince  of  the  blood,  who  had  distinguished 
himself  in  his  army,  the  eldest  son  of  the 
miserable  Duke  of  Orleans.  Such  a  change 
of  dynasty  might  be  supposed  to  limit  the 
wishes  of  the  proposed  sovereign  to  that 
share  of  power  intrusted  to  him  by  the  Rev- 
olution, since  he  would  have  had  no  title  to 
the  crown  save  what  arose  from  the  Consti- 
tution. But,  to  qualify  himself  in  either  case 
to  act  as  the  supreme  head  of  the  army,  in- 
dependent of  the  National  Convention,  it 
was  necessary  that  Dumouriez  should  pur- 
sue his  conquests,  act  upon  the  plan  laid 
down  by  the  ministers  at  Paris,  and  in  ad- 
dition to  his  title  of  victor  in  Belgium,  add 
that  of  conqueror  of  Holland.  He  com- 
menced, accordingly,  an  invasion  of  the 
latter  country,  with  some  prospect  of  suc- 
cess. But  though  he  took  Gertruydenberg, 
and  blockaded  Bergen-op-Zoom,  he  was 
repulsed  from  Williamstadt ;  and  at  the 
same  time  he  received  information  that  an 
army  of  Austrians,  under  the  Prince  of 
Saxe-Coburg,  a  general  of  eminence,  though 
belonging  to  the  old  military  school  of  Ger- 
many, was  advancing  into  Flanders.  Du- 
mouriez retreated  from  Holland  to  make  a 
stand  against  these  new  enemies,  and  waa 
again  unfortunate.  The  French  were  de- 
feated at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  their  new- 
levies  almost  entirely  dispersed.  Chagrin- 
ed with  this  disaster,  Dumouriez  gave  an 
imprudent  loose  to  the  warmth  of  his  tem- 
per. Following  the  false  step  of  La  Fay- 
ette, iu  menacing  before  he  was  prepared  to 
strike,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Convention, 
threatening  the  Jacobin  party  with  the  in- 
dignation of  his  array.  This  was  on  the 
rith  March  1793,  and  six  days  afterward* 
lie  was  again  defeated  in  the  battle  of  Neer- 
winden. 

It  must  have  been  extremely  doubtful, 
whether,  in  the  very  pitch  of  victory,  Du- 
mouriez possessed  enough  of  individual  in- 
fluence over  his  army,  to  have  inclined 
them  to  declare  against  the  National  Con- 


142 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Ch<^.  XIV. 


vention.  The  forces  which  he  commanded  , 
were  not  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  I 
regular  army,  long  embodied,  and  engaged 
perhaps  for  years  in  difficult  enterprises, 
and. in  foreign  countries,  where  such  a 
force  exists  as  a  community  only  by  their 
military  relations  to  each  other ;  wlicre  the 
common  soldiers  know  no  other  home  than 
their  tents,  and  no  other  direction  than  the 
voice  of  their  officers ;  and  the  officers  no 
other  laws  than  the  pleasure  of  their  gen- 
eral. Such  armies,  holding  themselves 
independent  of  the  civil  authorities  of  their 
country,  came  at  length,  through  the  habit 
of  long  wars  and  distant  conquests,  to  e.xist 
in  the  French  empire,  and  upon  such  rested 
the  foundation-stone  of  the  Imperial  throne  ; 
but  as  yet,  the  troops  of  the  Republic  con- 
Bisted  either  of  the  regiments  revolution- 
ized, when  the  great  change  had  ortered 
commissions  to  privates,  and  batons  to  sub- 
alterns, or  of  new  levies,  who  had  their  very 
existence  through  the  Revolution,  and 
whose  common  nickname  of  Carmagnols, 
expressed  their  Republican  origin  and  opin- 
ions. Such  troops  might  obey  tlie  voice 
of  the  general  on  the  actual  field  of  battle, 
but  were  not  very  amenable  even  to  the  or- 
dinary course  of  discipline  elsewhere,  and 
were  not  likely  to  exchange  their  rooted 
political  principles,  with  all  the  ideas  of 
license  connected  with  them,  at  Dumou- 
riez's  word  of  command,  as  tlicy  would 
have  changed  their  front,  or  have  adopted 
any  routine  military  movement.  Still  less 
were  they  likely  implicitly  to  obey  this 
commander,  when  the  prestige  of  liis  for- 
tune seemed  in  the  act  of  abandoning  him, 
and  least  of  all,  when  they  founc'  him  dis- 
posed to  make  a  compromise  with  the  very 
ibe  wlio  had  defeated  him,  and  perceived 
that  he  negotiated,  by  abandoning  his  con- 
quests to  the  Austrians,  to  purchase  the 
opportunity  or  permission  of  executing  the 
counter-revolution  which  he  proposed. 

Nevertheless,  Dumouriez,  either  pushed 
on  by  an  active  and  sanguine  temper,  or 
being  too  far  advanced  to  retreat,  endeav- 
oured, by  intrigues  in  his  own  army,  and 
an  understanding  with  the  Prince  of  Saxe- 
Coburg,  to  render  himself  strong  enough 
to  overset  the  reigning  party  in  the  Con- 
vention, and  restore,  with  some  modifica- 
tions, the  Constitution  of  1791.  fie  ex- 
pressed this  purpose  with  imprudent  open- 
ness. Several  generals  of  division  de- 
clared against  his  scheme.  He  failed  in 
obtaining  possession  of  the  fortress  of  Lisle, 
Valenciennes,  and  Conde.  Another  act  of 
imprudence  aggravated  tlie  unpopularity 
into  which  he  began  to  fall  with  his  army. 
Four  Commissioners  of  the  Convention  re- 
monstrated publicly  on  the  course  he  was 
pursuing.  Dumouriez,  not  contented  with 
arresting  them,  had  the  imprudence  to  send 
them  to  the  camp  of  the  .\ustrians  prison- 
ers, thus  delivering  up  to  the  public  enemy 
the  representatives  of  the  government  un- 
der which  he  was  appointed,  and  for  which 
he  had  hitherto  acted,  and  proclaiming  his 
alliance  with  the  invaders  whom  he  was 
commissioned  to  oppose. 
All  this  rash  conduct  disunited  the  tic 


between  Dumouriez  and  his  army.  The 
■esistance  to  his  authority  became  general, 
and  finally,  it  was  with  great  difficulty  and 
danger  that  he  made  his  escape  to  the  Aus- 
trian camp,  with  his  young  friend  the  Duke 
de  Chartres. 

All  that  this  able  and  ambitious  man  rsav- 
ed  in  his  retreat  was  merely  his  life,  of 
which  he  spent  some  years  afterwards  in 
Germany,  concluding  it  in  England  about 
1822,  without  again  making  any  figure  in 
the  political  horizon.*  Thus,  the  attempt 
of  Dumouriez,  to  use  military  force  to  stem 
the  progress  of  the  Revolution,  failed,  like 
that  of  La  Fayette  some  months  before.  To 
use  a  medical  simile,  the  imposthume  was 
not  yetfar  enough  advanced,  andsufficiently 
come  to  a  head,  to  be  benefited  by  the  use 
of  the  lancet. 

Meanwhile,  the  Convention,  though  tri- 
umphant over  the  schemes  of  the  revolted 
general,  was  divided  by  the  two  parties  to 
whom  its  walls  served  for  an  arena,  in 
which  to  aim  against  each  other  the  most 
deadly  blows.  It  was  now  manifest  that 
the  strife  must  end  tragically  for  one  of  the 
parties,  and  all  circumstances  pointed  out 
the  Girondists  as  the  victims.  They  had 
indeed  still  the  command  of  majorities  in 
the  Convention,  especially  when  the  votes 
were  taken  by  scrutiny  or  ballot ;  on  which 
occasions  the  feebler  deputies  of  the  Plain 
could  give  their  voice  according  to  their 
consciences,  without  its  being  known  that 
they  had  done  so.  But  in  open  debate,  and 
when  the  members  voted  viva  voce,  amongst 
the  intimidating  cries  and  threats  of  tribunes 
filled  by  an  infuriated  audience,  the  spirit 
of  truth  and  justice  seemed  too  nearly  al- 
lied to  that  of  martyrdom,  to  be  prevalent 
generally  amongst  men  who  made  their 
own  safety  the  rule  of  their  political  con- 
duct. The  party,  however,  continued  for 
several  months  to  exercise  the  duties  of 
administration,  and  to  make  such  a  struggle 
in  the  Convention  as  could  be  achieved  by 
oratory  and  reasoning,  against  underhand 
intrigue,  supported  by  violent  declamation, 
and  which  was,  upon  the  least  signal,  sure 
of  the  aid  of  actual  brutal  violence. 

The  Girondists,  we  have  seen,  had  aimed 
decrees  of  the  Assembly  at  the  triumvirate, 
and  a  plot  was  now  laid  among  the  Jacobins, 
to  repay  that  intended  distinction  by  the 
actual  strokes  of  the  axe,  or,  failing  that, 
of  the  dagger. 

When  the  news  of  Dumouriez's  defection 
arrived,  the  Jacobins,  always  alert  in  pre- 
possessing the  public  mind,  held  out  the 
Girondists  as  the  associates  of  the  revolted 
general.  It  was  on  them  whom  thev  direct- 
ed the  public  animosity,  great  and  furious 
in  proportion  to  the  nature  of  the  crisis. 
That  majority  of  the  Convention,  whom  the 
traitor  Dumouriez  affirmed  was  sound,  and 
with  which  he  acted  in  concert,  intimated, 
according  to  the  Jacobins,  the  Girondists 
tlie  allies  of  liis  treasons.  They  called  out 
in  the  Convention,  on  the  Sth  of  March,  for 


*  Dumouriez  was  a  man  of  pleasing  manners  and 
lively  conversation.  He  lived  in  retirement,  near 
Ealing,  in  Middlese.x,  and  (iicd  only  within  tbea9 
last  two  or  three  jears, 


Chap.  XIV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLKOX  BUOxXAPARTE. 


143 


a  tribunal  of  judgment  fit  to  decide  on  such 
crimes,  without  the  delays  arising  from  or- 
dinary forms  of  pleading  and  evidence,  and 
without  even  the  intervention  of  a  jury. 
The  Girondists  opposed  this  measure,  and 
the  debate  was  violent.  In  the  course  of 
the  subsequent  days,  an  insurrection  of  the 
people  was  prepared  by  the  Jacobins,  as 
upon  the  20th  of  June  and  10th  of  August. 
It  ought  to  have  broken  out  upon  the  10th 
of  March,  which  was  the  day  destined  to 
put  an  end  to  the  ministerial  party  by  a 
general  massacre.  But  the  Girondists  re- 
ceived early  intelligence  of  what  was  in- 
tended, and  absented  themselves  from  the 
Convention  on  the  day  of  peril.  A  body  of 
Federates  from  Brest,  about  400  strong, 
were  also  detached  in  their  favour  by  Ke- 
velegaa,  one  of  the  deputies  from  the  an- 
cient province  of  Bretagne,  and  who  was  a 
zealous  Girondist.  The  precaution,  how- 
ever slight,  was  sufficient  for  the  time.  The 
men  who  were  prepared  to  murder,  were 
unwilling  to  fight,  however  strong  the  odds 
on  their  side  ;  and  the  mustering  of  the 
Jacobin  bravos  proved,  on  this  occasion,  an 
empty  menace. 

Duly  improved,  a  discovered  conspiracy 
is  generally  of  advantage  to  the  party  against 
which  it  was  framed.  But  V'ergniaud, 
when,  in  a  subsequent  sitting,  he  denounc- 
ed to  the  Convention  the  existence  of  a 
conspiracy  to  put  to  death  a  number  of  the 
deputies,  was  contented  to  impute  it  to  the 
influence  of  the  aristocracy,  of  the  nobles, 
the  priests,  and  the  emissaries  of  Pitt  and 
Coburg ;  thus  suffering  the  Jacobins  to 
escape  every  imputation  of  that  blame, 
which  all  the  world  knew  attached  to  them, 
and  to  them  only.  He  was  loudly  applaud- 
ed. Marat,  who  rose  after  him,  was  ap- 
plauded as  loudly,  and  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal  was  established. 

Louvet,  who  exclaims  against  Vergniaud 
for  his  pusillanimity,  says,  that  the  orator 
alleged  in  his  excuse,  "  the  danger  of  in- 
censing violent  men,  already  capable  of  all 
excesses."  They  had  come  to  the  boar- 
chase,  they  had  roused  him  and  provoked 
his  anger,  and  now  they  felt,  too  late,  that 
they  lacked  weapons  with  which  to  attack 
the  irritated  monster.  The  plot  of  the  10th 
March  had  been  compared  to  that  of  the 
Catholics  on  the  5th  November,  in  Eng- 
land. It  had  been  described  in  the  Moni- 
teur  a:^  a  horrible  conspiracy,  by  which  a 
company  of  ruffians,  assuming  the  title  of 
de  la  Glaciere,  in  remembrance  of  the  mas- 
sacre of  Avignon,  surrounded  the  hall  for 
two  (lays,  with  the  purpose  of  dissolving  the 
National  Convention  by  force,  and  putting 
to  deatii  a  great  proportion  of  the  deputies. 
Vet  the  Convention  passed  over,  without 
eifective  prosecution  of  any  kind,  a  crime 
of  so  enormous  a  die ;  and  in  doing  so, 
showed  themselves  more  afraid  of  imme- 
diatQ  personal  consequences,  than  desirous 
of  seizing  an  opportunity  to  rid  France  of 
the  horrible  faction  by  whom  they  were 
scourged  and  menaced. 

In  the  midst  of  next  month  the  Jacobins 
became  the  assailants,  proud,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed, of  the  impunity  under  which  they 


had  been  sheltered.  Robespierre  impeach- 
ed by  name  the  leaders  of  the  Girondists, 
as  accomplices  of  Dumouriez.  But  it  was 
not  in  the  Convention  where  Robespierre's 
force  lay.  Guadet,  with  great  eloquence, 
repelled  the  charge,  and  in  his  turn  de- 
nounced Robespierre  and  the  Jacobins.  He 
proclaimed  to  the  Convention  that  they  sat 
and  debated  under  raised  sabres  and  pon- 
iards, which  a  moment's  signal  could  let 
loose  on  them  ;  and  he  read  from  the  Jour- 
nal conducted  by  Marat,  an  appeal,  calling 
on  the  people  to  rise  in  insurrection.  Fear 
and  shame  gave  the  Convention  momentary 
courage.  They  passed  a  decree  of  accusa- 
tion against  Marat,  who  was  obliged  to  con- 
ceal himself  for  a  few  days. 

Buzot,  it  may  be  remarked,  censures  this 
decree  against  Marat  as  impolitic,  seeing  it 
was  the  first  innovation  affecting  the  invio- 
lability of  the  persons  of  the  deputies.  In 
point  of  principle  he  is  certainly  right ;  but 
as  to  any  practical  effects  resulting  from 
this  breach  of  privilege,  by  reprisals  on  the 
other  side,  we  are  quite  sceptical.  What- 
ever violence  was  done  to  the  Girpndists, 
at  the  end  of  the  conflict,  was  sure  to  have 
befallen  them,  whether  Marat  had  been  ar- 
rested or  not.  Precedents  were  as  useless 
to  such  men,  as  a  vizard  to  one  of  their  ruf- 
fians. Both  could  do  their  business  bare- 
faced. 

The  Convention  went  farther  than  the  de- 
cree of  accusation  against  Marat ;  and  for  the 
first  time  showed  their  intention  to  make  a 
stand  against  the  Jacobins.  They  nomina- 
ted a  commission  of  Twelve  Members, 
some  Girondists,  some  neutrals,  to  watch 
over  and  repress  'the  movements  of  such 
citizens  as  should  seem  disposed  to  favour 
anarchy. 

The  Convention  were  not  long  of  learn- 
ing the  character  of  the  opposition  which 
they  had  now  defied.  Pache,  Mayor  of  Pa- 
ris, and  one  of  the  worst  men  of  the  Revo- 
lution, appeared  at  the  bar  of  the  Conven- 
tion with  two  thousand  petitioners,  as  they 
were  called.  They  demanded,  in  the  name 
of  the  sections,  the  arrest  of  twenty-two 
of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Girondist 
leaders.  The  Convention  got  rid  of  the 
petition  by  passing  to  the  order  of  the  day. 
But  the  courage  of  the  anarchists  was 
greatly  increased  ;  and  they  saw  that  they 
had  only  to  bear  down  with  repeated  attacks 
an  enemy  who  had  no  fortification  save  the 
frail  defences  of  the  law,  which  it  was  the 
pride  of  the  Jacobins  to  surmount  and  to 
defy.  Their  demand  of  proscription  against 
these  unfortunate  deputies  was  a  measure 
from  which  thev  never  departed ;  and  their 
audacity  in  urging  it  placed  that  party  on 
the  defensive,  who  ought,  in  all  reason,  to 
liave  been  active  in  the  attack. 

The  Girondists,  however,  felt  the  extrem- 
ity to  which  they  v.^ere  reduced,  and  sensi- 
ble of  the  great  advantage  to  be  attained 
by  being  the  assailants  in  such  a  struggle, 
they  endeavoured  to  regain  the  offensive. 

The  Revolutionary  Tribunal  to  which  Ma- 
rat had  been  sent  by  the  decree  of  accusa- 
tion, knew  their  business  too  well  to  con- 
vict any  one,  much  less  such  a  distinguish* 


144 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIV. 


ed  patriot,  who  was  only  accused  of  stimu- 
lating the  people  to  exercise  the  sacred 
right  of  insurrection.  He  was  honourably 
acquitted,  after  scarcely  the  semblance  of 
a  trial,  and  brought  back  to  his  place  in  the 
Convention,  crowned  with  a  civic  coronet, 
and  accompanied  by  a  band  of  such  deter- 
mined ruffians  as  were  worthy  to  form  his 
body-guard.  They  insisted  on  filing  through 
the  hall,  while  a  huge  pioneer,  their  spokes- 
man, assured  the  Convention  that  tbo  peo- 
ple loved  Marat,  and  that  the  cause  of  Ma- 
rat and  the  people  would  always  be  the 
same. 

Meanwhile,  the  Committee  of  Twelve 
proceeded  against  the  Terrorists  with  some 
vigour.  One  of  the  most  furious  provokers 
of  insurrection  and  murder  was  Hebert,  a 
devoted  Jacobin,  substitute  of  the  Procu- 
reur  Syndic  of  the  Community.  Speaking 
to  this  body,  who  now  exercised  the  whole 
powers  of  magistracy  iu  Paris,  this  man 
had  not  blushed  to  demand  the  heads  of 
three  hundred  deputies.  He  wa^  arrested 
and  committed  to  prison. 

This  decisive  action  ought  in  policy  to 
have  been  followed  by  other  steps  equally 
firm.  The  Girondists,  by  displaying  confi- 
dence, might  surely  have  united  to  them- 
■elves  a  large  number  of  the  neutral  party  ; 
and  might  have  established  an  interest  in 
the  sections  of  Pans,  consisting  of  men, 
who,  though  timid  without  leaders,  held  in 
deep  horror  the  revolutionary  faction,  and 
trembled  for  their  families  and  their  proper- 
ty, if  put  under  the  guardianship,  as  it  had 
been  delicately  expressed,  of  the  rabble  of 
the  fauxbourgs.  The  very  show  of  four 
hundred  Bretons  had  disconcerted  the 
whole  conspiracy  of  the  lOth  of  March  ; 
and  therefore,  with  a  moderate  support  of 
determined  men,  statesmen  of  a  more  reso- 
lute and  practised  character  than  these 
theoretical  philosophers,  might  have  bid 
defiance  to  the  mere  mob  of  Paris,  aided  by 
a  few  hundreds  of  hired  rufSans.  At  the 
worst  they  would  have  perished  in  attempt- 
ing to  save  their  country  from  the  most  vile 
ajid  horrible  tyranny. 

The  Girondists,  however,  sat  in  the  Con- 
vention, like  wild-fowl  when  the  hiiwk  is 
abroad,  afraid  either  to  remain  where  they 
were,  or  to  attempt  a  llight.  Yet,  as  they 
could  make  no  armed  interest  in  Paris, 
there  was  much  to  induce  them  to  quit  the 
metropolis,  and  seek  a  place  of  free  delib- 
eration elsewhere.  France,  indeed,  was  in 
such  a  state,  that  had  these  unfortunate  ex- 
perimentalists possessed  any  inHuence  in 
almost  any  department,  they  could  hardly 
have  failed  to  bring  friends  around  thciin.  if 
they  had  effected  a  retreat  to  it.  Versailles 
•earns  to  have  been  thought  of  as  the  scene 
of  their  adjournment,  by  those  who  nour- 
ished such  an  idea ;  and  it  was  believed 
that  the  inhabitants  of  that  town,  repentant 
of  the  part  they  had  ])layed  in  driving  from 
them  the  royal  family  and  the  Legislative 
Body,  would  have  stood  in  their  defence. 
But  neither  from  the  public  journals  and 
histories  of  the  time,  nor  from  the  private 
memoirs  of  Buzot,  Barbaroux,  or  Louvet, 
ioes  it  »ippear  that  these  infatuated  phiioeo- 


phers  thought  either  of  flight  or  defence 
They  appear  to  have  resembled  the  wretch- 
ed animal,  whose  chance  of  escape  from  it« 
e.temies  rests  only  in  the  pitiful  cries  which 
it  utters  when  seized.  Their  whole  system 
was  a  castle  in  the  air,  and  when  it  vanish- 
ed they  could  oi)ly  sit  down  and  lament 
over  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  al- 
lowed to  the  Girondists,  that  the  inefficien- 
cy and  imbecility  of  their  conduct  was  not 
to  be  attributed  to  personal  cowardice.  En- 
thusiasts in  their  political  opinions,  they 
saw  their  ruin  approaching,  waited  for  it, 
and  dared  it ;  but  like  that  of  the  monarch 
they  had  been  so  eager  to  dethrone,  and  by 
dethroning  whom  they  had  made  way  for 
their  own  ruin,  their  resolution  was  of  a 
passive  not  an  active  character  ;  patient  and 
steady  to  endure  wrong,  but  inefficient 
where  tlic  object  v/as  to  do  right  tov/arda 
themselves  and  France, 

i'or  many  nights  these  unhappy  and  de- 
voted deputies,  still  possessed  of  the  min- 
isterial power,  were  so  far  from  being  able 
to  ensure  their  own  safety,  or  that  of  the 
country  under  their  nominal  government, 
that  Ihey  had  shifted  about  from  one  place 
of  rendezvous  to  another,  not  daring  to  oc- 
cupy their  own  lodgings,  and  usually  re- 
maining, three  or  four  together,  armed  for 
defence  of  their  lives,  in  such  places  of 
secrecy  ai;d  safety  as  they  could  devise. 

It  was  on  the  night  preceding  the  .SOth 
of  Mav,  that  Louvet,  with  five  of  the  most 
distinguished  of  the  Girondist  party,  had 
absconded  into  such  a  retreat,  more  like 
robbers  afraid  of  the  police  than  legislators, 
when  tlie  tocsin  was  rung  at  dead  of  night. 
Rabaud  de  Saint  Etienne,  a  Protestant 
clergvmin,  and  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished of  the  party  for  humanity  and  reso- 
lution, received  it  as  a  death-knell,  and 
continued  to  repeat.  Ilia  suprema  dies. 

The  alarm  was  designed  to  raise  the  sub- 
urbs ;  but  in  this  task  the  Jacobins  do  not 
seem  to  have  had  the  usual  facilities — at 
least  they  began  by  putting  their  blood 
hounds  on  ascent,  upon  which  they  thought 
them  likely  to  run  more  readily  than  the 
mere  murder  or  arrest  of  twenty  or  thirty 
deputies  of  tlie  Convention,  They  devis- 
ed one  which  suited  admirably,  both  to 
alarm  the  wealthier  citizens,  and  teach 
thcia  to  be  contented  with  looking  to  their 
own  safety,  and  to  animate  the  rabble  with 
the  hope  of  plunde/.  The  rumour  was 
spread,  that  the  section  of  La  Butte-des- 
IMoulins,  comprehending  the  Palais  Royal, 
and  the  hiost  v/ealthy  shops  in  Paris,  had 
become  counter-revolutionary — had  dis- 
played the  white  cockade,  and  were  declar- 
ing i'or  the  Bnurbons. 

Of  tliis  not  a  wonl  was  true.  The  citi- 
zens of  the  Palais  Royal  were  disposed  per- 
haps to  roy.iUy — certaiv.ly  for  a  quiet  and 
established  government — but  loved  their 
ov.'u  shop.-;  much  better  than  the  House  of 
Bourbon,  and  had  no  intention  of  pl^cia:; 
them  in  joopardv  either  for  king  or  kaisar. 
They  heard  with  alarm  the  accusation 
against  thcni,  mustered  in  defence  of  their 
property,  shut  the  gates  of  the  Palais  Roy- 
al, which  admits  of  being  strongly  defended, 


Chap.  XIV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


145 


ttirned  cannon  with  lighted  matches  upon 
the  mob  as  they  approached  their  precincts, 
and  showed,  in  a  way  sufficient  to  intimi- 
date the  rabble  of  Saint  Antoine,  that 
though  the  wealthy  burgesses  of  Paris  might 
abandon  to  the  mob  the  care  of  killing  kings 
and  changing  ministers,  they  had  no  inten- 
tion whatsoever  to  yield  up  to  them  the 
charge  of  their  counters  and  tills.  Five 
sections  were  under  arms  and  ready  to  act. 
Not  one  of  the  Girondist  party  seems  to 
have  even  attempted  to  point  out  to  them, 
that  by  an  exertion  to  preserve  the  indepen- 
dence of  the  Convention,  they  might  rid 
themselves  for  ever  of  the  domination,  un- 
der which  all  who  had  property,  feeling,  or 
education,  were  rendered  slaves  by  these 
recurring  insurrections.  This  is  the  more 
extraordinary,  as  Raffe,  the  commandant 
of  the  section  of  La  Butte-des-Moulins, 
had  actually  marched  to  the  assistance  of 
the  Convention  on  the  10th  of  March,  then, 
as  now,  besieged  by  an  armed  force. 

Left  to  themselves,  the  sections  who 
were  in  arms  to  protect  order,  thought  it 
enough  to  provide  against  the  main  danger 
of  the  moment.  The  sight  of  their  array, 
and  of  their  determined  appearance,  far 
more  than  their  three-coloured  cockades, 
and  cries  of  "  Vive  la  Republique,"  were 
sufficient  to  make  the  insurgents  recognize 
those  as  good  citizens,  who  could  not  be 
convicted  of  incivism  without  a  bloody 
combat. 

They  were,  however,  at  length  made  to 
comprehend  by  their  leaders,  that  the  busi- 
ness to  be  done  lay  in  the  Hall  of  the  Con- 
vention, and  that  the  exertions  of  each  active 
citizen  were  to  entitle  him  to  forty  sous  for 
the  day's  work.  In  the  whole  affair  there 
was  so  much  of  cold  triok,  and  so  little 
popular  enthusiasm,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  the  plotters  might  not  have 
been  countermined  and  blown  to  the  moon 
with  their  own  petard,  had  there  been  ac- 
tive spirit  or  practical  courage  on  the  side 
of  those  who  were  the  assailed  party.  But 
we  see  no  symptoms  of  either.  The  Con- 
vention were  surrounded  by  the  rabble, 
and  menaced  in  the  grossest  terms.  Under 
the  general  terror  inspired  by  their  situa- 
tion, they  finally  recalled  the  Commission 
of  Twelve,  and  set  Hebert  at  liberty; — 
concessions  which,  though  short  of  those 
which  the  Jacobins  had  determined  to  in- 
sist upon,  were  such  as  showed  that  the 
power  of  the  Girondists  was  entirely  de- 
stroyed, and  that  the  Convention  itself 
might  be  overawed  at  the  pleasure  of  whom- 
soever should  command  the  mob  of  Paris. 

The  Jacobins  were  now  determined  to 
follow  up  their  blow,  by  destroying  the  ene- 
my whom  they  had  disarmed.  The  2d  of 
June  was  fixed  for  this  purpose.  Louvet  and 
some  otliers  of  the  Girondist  party,  did  not 
choose  to  a.vait  the  issue,  but  fled  from 
Paris.  To  secure  the  rest  of  the  devoted 
party,  the  barriers  of  the  city  were  shut. 

On  this  decisive   occasion  the  Jacobins 
had  not  trusted  entirely  to  the  efficiency 
of  their  suburb  forces.     They  had  also  un- 
der their  orders  about  two  thousand  Fed- 
VoL,  L  G 


erates,  who  were  encamped  in  the  CkaOipB 
Elysees,  and  had  been  long  tutored  in  the 
part  they  had  to  act.  They  harnessed  <piiiB 
and  howitzers,  prepared  grape-shot  and 
shells,  and  actually  heated  shot  red-hot,  as 
if  their  purpose  had  been  to  attack  some 
strong  fortress,  instead  of  a  hall  filled  with 
the  unarmed  representatives  of  the- people. 
Henriot,  commander-general  of  the  armed 
force  of  Paris,  a  fierce,  ignorant  man,  en- 
tirely devoted  to  the  Jacobin  interest,  took 
care,  in  posting  the  armed  force  which  ar- 
rived from  all  hands  around  the  Conven- 
tion, to  station  those  nearest  to  the  Legis- 
lative Body,  whose  dispositions  with  re^ird 
to  them  were  most  notoriously  violent. 
They  were  thus  entirely  surrounded  as  if 
in  a  net,  and  the  Jacobins  had  little  mors 
to  do  than  to  select  their  victims. 

The  universal  cry  of  armed  men  who 
surrounded  the  Convention,  was  for  a  de- 
cree of  death  or  outlawry  against  twenty- 
two  members  of  the  Girondist  party,  who 
had  been  pointed  out,  by  the  petition  of 
Pache,  and  by  subsequent  petitions  of  the 
most  inflammatory  nature,  as  accomplices 
of  Dumouriez,  enemies  of  the  gooa  city  , 
of  Paris,  and  traitors,  vrho  meditated  a 
federative  instead  of  an  indivisible  Repub- 
lic. This  list  of  proscription  included  the 
ministers. 

The  Convention  were  in  a  dreadful  situa- 
tion ;  it  was  manifest  that  the  arm  of  strong 
force  was  upon  them.  Those  who  were 
supposed  to  belong  to  the  Girondist  party, 
were  struck  and  abused  as  they  entered  the 
hall,  hooted  and  threatened  as  they  arose 
to  deliver  their  opinion.  The  membe.-s 
were  no  longer  free  to  speak  or  vote. 
There  could  be  no  deliberation  within  the 
Assembly,  while  such  a  scene  of  tumult 
and  fury  continued  and  increased  without. 

Barrere,  leader,  as  we  have  said,  of  the 
Plain,  or  neutral  party,  who  thought  with 
the  Girondists  in  conscience,  and  acted 
with  the  Jacobins  in  fear,  proposed  one  of 
those  seemingly  moderate  measures,  which 
involve  as  sure  destruction  to  those  who 
adopt  them,  as  if  their  character  were  more 
decisively  hostile.  With  compliments  to 
their  irood  intentions,  with  lamentations  for 
the  emergency,  he  entreated  the  proscribed 
Girondists  to  sacrifice  themselves,  as  the 
unhappy  subjects  of  disunion  in  the  Repub- 
lic,  and  to  resign  their  character  of  depu- 
ties. The  convention,  he  said,  would  then 
declare  them  under  the  protection  of  the 
law, — as  if  they  were  not  invested  with 
that  protection  while  they  were  convicted 
of  no  crime,  and  clothed  .at  the  same  time 
with  the  inviolability,  of  which  he  advised 
them  to  divest  themselves.  It  was  as  if  a 
man  were  requested  to  lay  a^'ide  his  armour, 
on  the  promise  that  the  ordinary  garments 
which  he  wore  under  it  should  be  rendered 
impenetrable. 

But  a  Frenchman  is  easily  induced  to  do 
that  to  which  he  is  provoked,  as  involving 
a  point  of  honour.  This  treacherous  ad- 
vice was  adopted  by  Isnard,  Dussaus,  and 
others  of  the  proscribed  deputies,  who  were 
thus  persuaded  to  abandon  what  defences 


146 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIV. 


remained  to  them,  in  hopes  to  soften  the 
ferocity  of  aji  enemy,  too  inveterate  to  en- 
tertain feelings  of  generosity. 

Lanjuinais  maintained  a  more  honourable 
struggle.  ■'  Expect  not  from  me,"  he  said 
to  thf  Convention,  "  to  hear  either  of  sub- 
mission, or  resignation  of  my  otficial  char- 
acter. Am  I  free  to  offer  such  a  resigna- 
tion, or  are  you  free  to  receive  it  ?"  As  he 
would  have  turned  his  eloquence  against 
Robespierre  and  the  Jacobins,  an  attempt 
was  made  by  Legendre  and  Chabot  to  drag 
him  from  the  tribune.  While  he  resisted 
he  received  several  blows.  "  Cruel  men  I" 
he  exclaimed — "  The  Heathens  adorned 
and  caressed  the  victims  whom  they  led  to 
the  slaughter — you  load  them  with  blows 
and  insult.'' 

Shame  procured  him  a  moment's  hearing, 
during  which  he  harangued  the  Assembly 
with  much  effect  on  the  baseness,  treache- 
ry, cruelty,  and  impolicy,  of  thus  surrender- 
ing their  brethren  to  the  call  of  a  blood- 
thirsty multitude  from  without,  stimulated 
by  a  vengeful  minority  of  their  own  mem- 
bers. The  Convention  made  an  effort  to 
free  themselves  from  the  toils  in  which  they 
were  entangled.  They  resolved  to  go  out 
in  a  body,  and  ascertain  what  respect  would 
be  paid  to  their  persons  by  the  armed  force 
assembled  around  them. 

They  sallied  forth  accordingly,  in  pro- 
cession, into  the  gardens  of  the  Tuilleries, 
the  Jacobins  alone  remaining  in  the  Hall ; 
but  their  progress  was  presentlyarrested  by 
Henriot,  at  the  head  of  a  strong  military 
staff,  and  a  large  body  of  troops.  Every 
passage  leading  from  the  gardens  was  se- 
cured by  soldiers.  The  President  read  the 
decree  of  the  Assembly,  and  commanded 
Henriot's  obedience.  The  commandant  of 
Paris  only  replied  by  reining  back  his  horse, 
and  commanding  the  troops  to  stand  to  their 
arms.  "  Return  to  your  posts,"  he  said  to 
the  terrified  legislators  ;  "  the  people  de- 
mand the  traitors  who  are  in  the  bosom  of 
your  Assembly,  and  will  not  depart  till  their 
will  is  accomplished."  Marat  came  up 
presently  afterwards  at  the  head  of  a  select 
band  of  a  hundred  ruffians.  He  called  on  the 
multitude  to  stand  firm  to  their  purpose, 
and  commanded  the  Convention,  in  the 
name  of  the  people,  to  return  to  their  place 
of  meeting,  to  deliberate,  and,  above  all,  to 
obey. 

The  Convention  re-entered  their  Hall  in 
the  last  degree  of  consternation,  prepared 
to  submit  to  the  infamy  which  now  seemed 
inevitable,  yet  loathing  themselves  for  their 
cowardice,  even  while  obeying  the  dictates 
of  self-preservation.  The  Jacobins  mean- 
while enhanced  their  demand,  like  Her 
who  sold  the  books  of  the  Sibyls.  Instead 
of  twenty-two  deputies,  the  accusation  of 
thirty  was  now  demanded.  Amid  terror 
mingled  with  acclamations,  the  decree  was 
declared  to  be  carried.  This  doom  of  pro- 
scription passed  on  the  motion  of  Couthon  ; 
a  decrepid  being,  whose  lower  extremities 

were   paralysed, whose  benevolence   of 

feeling  seemed  to  pour  itself  out  in  the 
most  gentle  expressions,  uttered  in  the 
most  melodious  tones, — whose  sensibility 


led  him  constantly  to  foster  a  favourite 
spaniel  in  his  bosom,  that  he  might  have 
something  on  which  to  bestow  kindness 
and  caresses, — but  who  was  at  heart  aa 
fierce  as  Danton,  and  as  pitiless  as  Robes- 
pierre. 

Great  part  of  the  Convention  did  not  join 
in  this  vote,  protesting  loudly  against  the 
force  imposed  on  them.  Several  of  the 
proscribed  deputies  were  arrested,  others 
escaped  from  the  Hail  by  the  connivance 
of  their  brethren,  and  of  the  official  persons 
attached  to  the  Convention,  some,  foresee- 
ing their  fate,  had  absented  themselves  from 
the  meeting,  and  were  already  fled  from 
Paris. 

Thus  fell,  without  a  blow  struck,  or  sword 
drawn  in  their  defence,  the  party  in  the 
Convention  which  claimed  the  praise  of 
acting  upon  pure  Republican  principles — 
who  had  overthrown  the  throne,  and  led 
the  way  to  anarchy,  merely  to  perfect  aB 
ideal  theory.  They  fell,  as  the  wisest  of 
them  admitted,  dupes  to  their  own  system, 
and  to  the  vain  and  impracticable  idea  of 
ruling  a  large  and  corrupt  empire,  by  the 
motives  which  may  sway  a  small  and  virtu- 
ous community.  They  might,  as  they  too 
late  discovered,  have  as  well  attempted  to 
found  the  Capitol  on  a  bottomless  and 
quaking  marsh,  as  their  pretended  Republic 
in  a  country  like  France.  The  violent  rev- 
olutionary expedients,  the  means  by  which 
they  acted,  were  turned  against  them  by 
men,  whose  ends  were  worse  than  their 
own.  The  Girondists  had  gloried  in  their 
share  of  the  triumphs  of  the  10th  of  August ; 
yet  what  was  that  celebrated  day,  save  an 
insurrection  of  the  populace  against  the 
constituted  authority  of  the  time,  as  those 
of  the  31st  of  May  and  2d  of  June,  1793, 
under  which  the  Girondists  succumbed, 
were  directed  against  them  as  successors, 
ii.  the  government?  In  the  one  case,  a 
King  was  dethroned  ;  in  the  other,  a  gov- 
ernment or  band  of  ministers  dismissed. 
And  if  the  people  had  a  right,  as  the  Giron- 
dists claimed  in  their  behalf,  to  act  as  the 
executioners  of  their  own  will  in  the  one  in- 
stance, it  is  difficult  to  see  upon  what  prin- 
ciple their  power  should  be  trammelled  in 
the  other. 

In  the  important  process  against  the 
King,  the  Girondists  had  shown  themselves 
pusillanimous  ; — desirous  to  save  the  life 
of  a  guiltless  man,  they  dared  not  boldly 
vouch  his  innocence,  but  sheltered  them- 
selves under  evasions  which  sacrificed  his 
character,  while  they  could  not  protect  his 
life.  After  committing  this  great  error, 
they  lost  every  chance  of  rallying  with  ef- 
ficacy under  their  standard  what  might  re- 
main of  well-intentioned  individuals  in  Pa- 
ris and  in  F'rance,  who,  if  they  had  seen 
the  Girondists,  when  in  power,  conduct 
themselves  with  firmness,  would  probably 
rather  have  ranked  themselves  in  the  train 
of  men  who  were  friends  to  social  order, 
however  republican  their  tenets,  than  have 
given  way  to  the  anarchy  which  was  doom- 
ed to  ensue. 

Upon  all  their  own  faults  whether  of  act 
or  of  omission,  the  unfortunate  Girondists 


Caap.  XIV.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


147 


had  now  ample  time  to  meditate.  Twenty- 
two  of  their  leading  members,  arrested  on 
the  fatal  2d  of  June,  already  waited  their 
doom  in  prison,  while  the  others  wandered 
on,  in  distress  and  misery,  through  the  dif- 
ferent departments  of  France. 

The  fate  of  those  who  were  prisoners  was 
not  very  long  suspended.  In  about  three 
months  they  were  brought  to  trial,  and  con- 
victed— of  Royalism .'  Such  was  the  tem- 
per of  France  at  the  time,  and  so  gross  the 
impositions  which  might  be  put  upon  the 
people, !  that  the  men  in  the  empire,  who, 
upon  abstract  principle,  ^ve^e  most  averse 
to  monarchy,  and  who  had  sacrificed  even 
their  consciences  to  join  with  the  Jacobins 
in  pulling  down  the  throne,  were  now  ac- 
cused and  convicted  of  being  Royalists ; 
and  that  at  a  time  when  what  remained  of 
the  royal  family  was  at  so  low  an  ebb,  that 
the  imprisoned  Queen  could  not  obtain  the 
most  ordinary  book  for  the  use  of  her  son, 
■without  a  direct  and  formal  application  to 
the  Community  of  Faris.^ 

\VTien  the  Girondists  were  brought  before 
the  tribunal,  the  people  seem  to  have  shown 
more  interest  in  men,  whose  distinguished 
talents  had  so  often  swayed  *he  Legislative 
Body,  than  was  altogether  acceptable  to  the 
Jacobins,  who  were  induced  to  fear  some 
difficulty  in  carrying  through  their  convic- 
tion. They  obtained  a  decree  from  the 
Convention,  declaring  that  the  President 
of  the  Revolutionary  tribunal  should  be  at 
liberty  to  close  the  procedure  so  soon  as 
the  Jury  should  have  made  up  their  minds, 
and  without  hearing  the  accused  in  their 
defence.  This  frightful  expedient  of  cut- 
ting short  the  debate,  (couper  la  parole  was 
the  phrase,)  was  often  resorted  to  on  those 
revolutionary  trials.  Unquestionably,  they 
dreaded  the  reasoning  of  Brissot,  and  the 
eloquence  of  \'ergniaud,  of  which  they  had 
80  long  and  so  often  experienced  the  thun- 
ders. One  crime, — and  it  was  a  fatal  of- 
fence, considering  before  what  judicature 
they  stood. — seems  to  have  been  made  out 
by  Brissot's  own  letters.  It  wa^  that  by 
which  the  late  members  attempted  to  ef- 
fect a  combination  among  the  departments, 
for  the  purpose  of  counterpoising,  if  possi- 
ble, the  tremendous  influence  which  the 
capital  and  the  revolutionary  part  of  its 
magistracy  exercised  over  thei'onvention, 
whom  Paris  detained  prisoners  within  her 
walls.  This  delinquency  alone  was  well 
calculated  to  remove  all  scruples  from  the 
minds  of  a  jury,  selected  from  that  very 
class  of  Parisians,  whose  dreadful  impor- 
tance would  have  been  altogether  annihilat- 
ed by  the  success  of  such  a  scheme.  The 
accused  were  found  guilty  as  conspirators 
against  the  unity  and  indivisibility  of  the 
Republic,  and  the  liberty  and  sal'ety  of  the 
French  people. 

When  the  sentence  of  death  was  pro- 
nounced, one  of  their  number,  Valaze, 
plunged  a  d^gcr  in  his  bosom.    The  rest 


*  Witness  the  following  entry  in  the  minutes  of 
the  Commune,  on  a  day,  be  it  remarked,  betwixt 
the  Q9th  May  and  the  ■2d  Juna  :  "  Antoinette  f;.it 
<ieraander  pour  son  fib  le  roman  de  Gil  Bias  de 
Sontillane — accord^  " 


suffered  in  terms  of  the  sentence,  and  were 
conveyed  to  the  place  of  execution  in  the 
same  tumbril  with  the  bloody  corpse  of 
their  suicide  colleague.  Brissot  seemed 
downcast  and  unhappy.  Fauchet,  a  rene- 
gade priest,  showed  signs  of  remorse.  The 
rest  affected  a  Roman  resolution,  and  went 
to  execution  singing  a  parody  on  the  Hymn 
of  the  Marseillois,  in  which  that  famous 
composition  was  turned  against  the  Jaco- 
bins. They  had  long  rejected  the  aids  of 
religion,  which,  early  received  and  cher- 
ished, would  have  guided  their  steps  in 
prosperity,  and  sustained  them  in  adversity. 
Their  remaining  stay  ■vvas  only  that  of  the 
same  vain  and  speculative  philosophy, 
which  had  so  deplorably  influenced  their 
political  conduct. 

Those  members  of  the  Girondist  party, 
who,  escaping  from  Paris  to  the  depart- 
ments, avoided  their  fate  somewhat  longer, 
saw  little  reason  to  pride  themselves  on  the 
political  part  they  had  chosen  to  act.  They 
found  the  eastern  and  southern  departments 
in  a  ferment  against  Paris  and  the  Jacobins, 
and  ready  to  rise  in  arms  ;  but  they  became 
aware,  at  the  same  time,  that  no  one  was 
thinking  of  or  regretting  their  system  of  a 
pure  republic,  the  motives  by  which  the 
malcontents  were  agitated  being  of  a  very 
different,  and  far  more  practical  character. 
Great  part  of  the  nation,  all  at  leost  of  bet- 
ter feelings,  had  been  deeply  affected  by 
the  undeserved  fate  of  the  King,  and  the 
cruelty  with  which  his  family  had  been, 
and  were  still  treated.  The  rich  feared  to 
be  pillaged  and  murdered  by  the  Jacobins  ; 
the  poor  suffered  no  less  under  scarcity  cf 
grain,  under  the  depreciation  of  assignats. 
and  a  compulsory  levy  of  no  less  than  three 
hundred  thousand  men  over  France,  to 
supply  the  enormous  losses  of  the  French 
army.  But  everywhere  the  insurrections 
took  a  Royalist,  and  not  a  Republican  char- 
acter ;  and  although  the  Girondists  were 
received  at  Caen  and  elsewhere  with  com- 
passion and  respect,  the  votes  they  had 
given  in  the  King's  trial,  and  their  fanatic 
zeal  for  a  kind  of  government  for  which 
France  was  totally  unfitted,  and  which  those 
from  ■svhom  they  obtained  refuge  were  far 
from  desiring,  prevented  their  playing  any 
distinguished  part  in  the  disturbed  district* 
of  the  West. 

Buzot  seems  to  see  this  in  the  true  sense. 
'■  It  is  certain,"'  he  says,  "  that  if  we  coultl 
have  rested  our  pretensions  upon  having 
wished  to  establish  in  France  a  moderate 
government  of  that  character,  which,  ac- 
cording to  many  well-instructed  persons, 
best  suited  the  people  of  France,"  (indicat- 
ing a  limited  monarchy.)  ''we  might  have 
entertained  hopes  of  forming  a  formidable 
coalition  in  the  department  of  Calvados, 
and  rallying  around  us  all  whom  ancient 
prejudices  attached  to  royalty,"  As  it  was, 
they  were  only  regarded  as  a  few  enthusi- 
asts, whom  the  example  of  America  had  in- 
duced to  attempt  the  establishment  of  a  re- 
public, in  a  country  where  all  hopes  amd 
wishes,  save  those  of  the  Jacobins,  and  trie 
vile  rabble  whon  they  courted  and  i:ovcrt<» 
ed,  were  turned  towards  a  moderate  ttion- 


146 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIV. 


archy.  Buzot  also  observed,  that  the  many 
fiolences,  and  atrocities,  forced  levies,  and 
other  acts  of  oppression  practised  in  the 
name  ot'  the  Republic,  had  disgusted  men 
with  a  form  of  government,  where  cruelty 
seemed  to  rule  over  misery  by  the  sole  aid 
of  terror.  With  more  candour  than  some 
of  his  companions,  he  avows  his  error,  and 
admits  that  he  would,  at  this  closing  scene, 
have  willingly  united  with  the  moderate 
monarchists,  to  establish  royalty  under  the 
safeguard  of  constitutional  restraints. 

.Several  of  the  deputies,  Louvet,  Riouffe, 
Barbarous,  Pethion,  and  others,  united 
themselves  with  a  body  of  Royalists  of 
Bretagne,  to  whom  General  Wimpfen  had 
given  something  of  the  name  of  an  army, 
but  which  never  attained  the  solidity  of 
one.  It  was  defeated  at  Vernon,  and  never 
afterwards  could  be  again  assembled. 

The  proscribed  deputies,  at  first  with  a 
few  armed  associates,  afterwards  entirely 
deserted,  wandered  through  the  country, 
incurring  some  romantic  adventures,  which 
have  been  recorded  by  the  pen  of  their 
histori^in,  Louvet.  At  length,  six  of  the 
party  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  means  of 
transportation  to  Bourdeaux,  the  capital 
of  that  Gironde  from  which  their  party  de- 
rived its  name,  and  which  those  who  were 
natives  of  it,  remembering  only  the  limited 
society  in  which  they  had  first  acquired 
their  fame,  had  described  as  possessing  and 
cherishing  the  purest  principles  of  philo- 
sophical freedom.  Guadet  had  protested 
to  his  companions  in  misfortune  a  thousand 
times,  that  if  liberal,  honourable,  and  gen- 
erous sentiments  were  chased  from  every 
other  corner  of  France,  they  were  never- 
theless sure  to  find  re<uge  in  La  Gironde. 
The  proscribed  wanderers  had  well  nigh 
kissed  the  land  of  refuge,  when  they  dis- 
embarked, as  in  a  country  of  assured  protec- 
tion. But  Bourdeaux  was  by  this  time  no 
more  than  a  wealthy  trading  town,  where 
the  rich,  trembling  before  the  poor,  were 
not  willing  to  increase  their  own  imminent 
dan^ei",  by  intermeddling  with  the  misfor- 
tunes of  others.  All  doors,  or  nearly  so, 
of  La  Gironde  itself,  were  shut  against  the 
Girondists,  and  they  wandered  outcasts 
in  the  country,  suffering  every  extremity 
of  toil  and  hunger,  and  bringing,  in  some 
cases,  death  upon  the  friends  who  ventured 
to  afford  them  refuge. 

Louvet  alone  escaped,  of  the  sis  Giron- 
dists who  took  refuge  in  their  own  peculiar 
province.  Guadet,  Salles,  and  the  enthu- 
siastic Barbarous,  were  seized  and  execu- 
ted at  Bourdeaux,  but  not  till  the  last  had 
twice  attempted  suicide  with  his  pistols. 
Buzot  and  Pethion  killed  themselves  in  ex- 
tremity, and  were  found  dead  in  a  field  of 
•cm.    This  was  the  same  Pethion  who  had 


been  so  long  the  idol  of  the  Parisians,  and 
who,  when  the  forfeiture  of  the  King  waa 
resolved  on,  had  been  heard  to  say  with 
simple  vanity,  "  If  they  should  force  me  to 
become  Regent  now,  I  cannot  see  any 
means  by  which  I  can  avoid  it."  Otherii 
of  this  unhappy  party  shared  the  same  mel- 
ancholy fate.  Condorcet,  who  had  pro- 
nounced his  vote  for  the  King's  life,  but 
in  perpetual  fetters,  was  arrested,  and  poi- 
soned himself.  Rabaud  de  St  Etienne  wa* 
betrayed  by  a  friend  in  whom  he  trusted, 
and  was  executed.  Roland  was  found 
dead  in  the  high  road,  accomplishing  a 
prophecy  of  his  wife,  whom  the  Jacobina 
had  condemned  to  death,  and  who  had  de- 
clared her  conviction  that  her  husband 
would  not  long  survive  her.  That  remarka- 
ble woman,  happy  if  her  high  talents  had, 
in  youth,  fallen  under  the  direction  of  those 
who  could  better  have  cultivated  them, 
made  before  the  revolutionary  tribunal  a 
defence  more  manly  than  the  most  elo- 
quent of  the  Girondins.  The  bystanders, 
who  had  become  amateurs  in  cruelty,  were 
as  much  delighted  with  her  deportment,  as 
the  hunter  with  the  pulling  down  a  noble 
stag.  "  What  sense,"  they  said,  "  what 
wit,  what  courage !  What  a  magnificent 
spectacle  it  will  be  to  behold  such  a  woman 
upon  the  scaffold!"  She  met  her  death  with 
great  firmness,  and,  as  she  passed  the  statue 
of  Liberty,  on  her  road  to  execution,  she 
exclaimed,  "  Ah,  Liberty  !  what  crimes  are 
committed  in  thy  name  !" 

About  forty-two  of  the  Girondist  deputiefl 
perished  by  the  guillotine,  by  suicide,  or 
by  the  fatigue  of  their  wanderings.  About 
twenty -four  escaped  these  perils,  and  were, 
after  many  and  various  sufferings,  recalled 
to  the  Convention,  when  the  Jacobin  influ- 
ence was  destroyed.  They  owed  their  fall 
to  the  fantastic  philosophy  and  visionary 
theories  which  they  had  adopted,  not  less 
than  to  their  presumptuous  confidence^ 
that  popular  assemblies,  when  actuated  by 
the  most  violent  personal  feelings,  must 
yield  to  the  weight  of  argument,  as  inani- 
mate bodies  obey  the  impulse  of  external 
force  ;  and  that  they  who  possess  the  high- 
est powers  of  oratory,  can,  by  mere  elo- 
cution, take  the  weight  from  clubs,  the 
edge  from  sabres,  and  the  angry  and  brutal 
passions  from  those  who  wiefd  them.  They 
made  no  further  figure  as  a  partv  in  any  of 
the  state  changes  in  France  ;  and,  in  rela- 
tion to  their  experimental  republic,  may 
remind  the  reader  of  the  presumptuous 
champion  of  antiquity  ;  who  was  caught  in 
the  cleft  oak,  which  he  in  vain  attempted 
to  rend  asunder.  History  has  no  more  to 
say  on  the  subject  of  La  Gironde,  consid- 
ered as  a  party  name. 


Chap.  XV.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


149 


CHAP.    ZV. 

Viem  of  parties  in  Britain  relative  to  the  Revolution. — Affiliated  Societies — Counter- 
poised bv  Aristocratic  Associations. — Aristocratic  Party  eager  for  Wartoith  France. 
—  The  French  proclaim  the  Navigation  of  the  Scheldt. — British  Ambassador  re- 
called from  Paris,  and  French  Envoy  no  longer  accredited  in  London. — France  de- 
Clares  War  against  England. — British  Army  sent  to  Holland,  under  the  Duke  of 
York — State  of  the  Army. —  View  of  the  Military  Positiojis  of  France  in  Flanders — 
on  the  Rhine — in  Piedmont — Savoy — on  the  Pyrenees. — State  of  the  War  in  La  Ven- 
due— Description  of  the  Country — Le  Bocage — Le  Louroux — Close  Union  betunxt  the 
Nobles  and  Peasantry— Both  strongly  attached  to  Royalty,  and  abhorrent  of  the  Rev- 
olution.—  The  Priesti. —  The  Religion  of  the  Vendeans  outraged  by  the  Convention 
— A  general  insurrection  takes  place  in  1793. — Military  Organization  and  Habits  of 
the  Vendeans. — Division  in  the  British  Cabinet  on  the  Mode  of  conducting  the  War. 
— Pitt — Windham. — Rca-ioning  upon  the  Subject. — Capitulation  of  Mentz  enables 
15,000  Veterans  to  act  in  La  Vendfie. —  Vendeans  defeated,  and  pass  the  Loire — They 
defeat,  in  their  turn,  the  French  Troops  at  Laval — But  are  ultimately  destroyed  and 
ditpersed. —  Unfortunate  expedition  to  Quiberon. — La  Charette  defeated  and  execut- 
ed, and  the  War  of  La  Vendue  finally  terminated. — Return  to  the  State  of  France  m 
/Spring:  1793. —  Unsuccessful  Resistance  of  Bcnirdeaux.  Marseilles,  and  Lyons  to  the 
Convention. — Siege  of  Lyons — Its  surrender  and  dreadful  Punishment. — Siege  qf 
Toulon. 


The  Jacobins,  by  their  successive  victo- 
ries on  the  31st  May  and  2d  June  1793,  had 
vanquished  and  driven  from  the  field  their 
adTersaries  ;  and  we  have  already  seen  with 
■what  fury  they  had  pursued  their  scattered 
enemies,  and  dealt  among  them  vengeance 
and  death.  But  the  situation  of  the  coun- 
try, both  in  regard  to  external  and  internal 
relations,  was  so  precarious,  that  it  requir- 
ed the  exertion  of  men  as  bold  and  unhesi- 
tating as  now  assumed  the  guidance  of  the 
power  of  France,  to  exert  the  energies  ne- 
cessary to  repel  foreign  force,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  subdue  internal  dissension. 

We  have  seen  that  England  had  become 
in  a  great  measure  divided  into  two  large 
parties,  one  of  which  continued  to  applaud 
the  French  Revolution,  although  the  wise 
and  good  among  them  reprobated  its  esces- 
es  ;  while  the  other,  with  eyes  fixed  in  de- 
testation upon  the  cruelties,  confiscations, 
and  horrors  of  every  description  which  it 
had  given  rise  to,  looked  on  the  very  name 
of  this  great  change, — though  no  doubt  com- 
prehending much  good  as  well  as  evil. — 
with  the  unmixed  feelings  of  men  in  con- 
templating a  spectacle  equally  dreadful  and 
disgusting. 

The  affair  of  the  10th  of  August,  and  the 
approaching  fate  of  the  King,  excited  gen- 
eral interest  in  Britain  ;  and  a  strong  incli- 
nation became  visible  among  the  higher 
and  middling  classes,  that  the  nation  should 
lake  up  arms  and  interfere  in  the  fate  of  the 
nnhappy  Louis. 

Mr.  Pitt  had  been  making  up  his  mind  to 
the  same  point ;  but  feeling  how  much  his 
own  high  talents  were  turned  to  the  im- 
provement of  the  internal  regulations  and 
finances  of  the  country,  he  hesitated  for 
•ome  time  to  adopt  a  hostile  course,  though 
approved  by  the  sovereign,  and  demanded 
by  a  large  proportion  of  his  subjects.  But 
new  circumstances  arose  every  day  to  com- 
pel a  decision  on  this  important  point. 

The  French,  whether  in  their  individual 
or  collective  capacities,  have  been  always 
desirous  to  take  the  lead  among  European 


nations,  and  to  be  considered  as  the  fore 
most  member  of  the  civilized  republic.  li» 
almost  all  her  vicissitudes,  France  has  ad- 
dressed herself  as  much  to  the  citizens  of 
other  countries  as  to  those  of  her  own  ;  and 
it  was  thus,  that  in  the  speeches  of  her 
statesmen,  invitations  were  thrown  out  to 
the  subjects  of  other  states,  to  imitate  the 
example  of  the  Republic,  castasvay  the  rub- 
bish of  their  old  institutions,  dethrone  their 
Kings,  demolish  their  nobility,  divide  the 
lands  of  the  church  and  the  aristocracy 
among  the  lower  classes,  and  arise  a  free 
and  regenerated  people.  In  Britain  as  else- 
where, these  doctrines  carried  a  fascinat- 
ing sound  ;  for  Britain  as  -veil  as  France 
had  men  of  parts,  who  thought  themselves 
neglected, — men  of  merit,  who  conceived 
themselves  oppressed,  experimentalists, 
who  would  willingly  put  the  laws  in  their  re- 
volutionary crucible, — and  men  desirous  of 
novelties  in  the  church  and  in  the  state,  ei- 
ther from  the  eagerness  of  restless  curiosi- 
tv,  or  the  hopes  of  bettering  by  the  change. 
Above  all,  Britain  had  afar  too  ample  mass  of 
poverty  and  ignorance,  subject  always  to  be 
acted  upon  by  the  hope  of  license.  Affiliated 
societies  were  formed  in  almost  all  the 
towns  of  Great  Britain.  They  correspond- 
ed with  each  other,  held  very  high  and  in- 
timidating language,  and  seemed  to  frame 
themselves  on  the  French  model.  They 
addressed  the  National  Convention  of 
France  directly  in  the  name  of  their  own 
bodies,  and  of  societies  united  for  the  same 
purpose ;  and  congratulated  them  on  their 
freedom,  and  on  the  manner  in  which  they 
had  gained  it,  with  many  a  broad  hint  that 
their  example  would  not  be  lost  on  Britain 
The  persons  who  composed  these  societieb 
had,  generally  speaking,  little  pretension 
to  rank  or  influence  ;  and  though  they  con- 
tained some  men  of  considerable  parts, 
there  was  a  deficiency  of  anything  like 
;  weight  or  respectability  in  their  meetings. 
Their  consequence  lay  chiefly  in  the  num- 
I  bers  who  were  likely  to  be  influenced  bj 
1  their  arguments  ;  and  these  were  eitraordi- 


150 


LIFE  OF  ^•APOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV. 


narily  great,  especially  in  large  towns,  and 
in  the  manufacturing  districts.  That  state 
of  things  began  to  take  place  in  Britain, 
which  had  preceded  the  French  Revolu- 
tion ;  but  the  British  aristocracy,  well  ce- 
mented together,  and  possessing  great 
weight  in  the  state,  took  the  alarm  sooner, 
and  adopted  precautions  more  effectual, 
than  had  been  thought  of  in  France.  They 
associated  together  in  political  unions  on 
their  side,  and  by  the  weight  of  influence, 
character,  and  fortune,  soon  obtained  a  su- 
periority, which  made  it  dangerous,  or  at 
least  inconvenient,  to  many,  whose  situa- 
tions in  society  rendered  them  in  some  de- 
gree dependent  upon  the  favour  of  the  aris- 
tocracy, to  dissent  violently  from  their 
opinions.  The  political  Stiibboleth,  used  by 
these  associations,  was  a  renunciation  of 
the  doctrines  of  the  French  Revolution  ; 
and  they  have  been  reproached  that  this  ab- 
horrence was  expressed  by  some  of  them 
in  terms  so  strong,  as  if  designed  to  with- 
hold the  subscribers  from  attempting  any 
reformation  in  their  own  government,  even 
by  the  most  constitutional  means.  In  short, 
while  the  democratical  party  made  in  their 
clubs  the  most  violent  and  furious  speeches 
against  the  aristocrats,  the  others  became 
doubly  prejudiced  against  reform  of  every 
description,  and  all  who  attempted  to  as- 
sert its  propriety.  After  all,  had  this  polit- 
ical ferment  broke  out  in  Britain  at  any  oth- 
er period,  or  on  any  other  occasion,  it  would 
have  probably  passed  away  like  other  heart- 
burniiigs  of  the  same  description,  which  in- 
terest for  a  time,  but  weary  out  the  public 
attention,  and  are  laid  aside  and  forgotten. 
But  the  Freneh  Revolution  blazed  in  the 
neighbourhood  like  a  beacon  of  hope  to  the 
one  party,  of  feai  and  caution  to  the  other. 
The  shouts  of  the  democratic  triumphs— 
the  foul  means  by  which  their  successes 
were  obtained,  ajid  the  cruel  use  which  was 
made  of  them,  increasc<i  the  animosity  of 
both  parties  in  England.  In  the  fury  of 
party  zeal,  the  democrats  excused  many  of 
the  excesses  of  the  French  Revolution,  in 
respect  of  its  tendency  ;  while  the  other 
party,  in  condemning  the  whole  Revolu- 
tion, both  root  and  branch,  forgot  that,  af- 
ter all,  the  struggle  of  the  French  nation  to 
recover  their  liberty,  was,  in  its  commence- 
ment, not  only  justifiable,  but  laudable. 

The  wild  and  inflated  language  addressed 
ty  the  French  statesmen  to  mankind  in 
g  ineril,  and  the  spirit  of  conquest  which 
the  nation  had  lately  evinced,  mixed  with 
their  marked  desire  to  extend  their  politi- 
cal principles,  and  with  the  odium  which 
they  had  heaped  upon  themselves  by  the 
King's  death,  made  the  whole  aristocratic 
party,  commanding  a  very  large  majority  in 
both  Houses  of  Parliament,  become  urgent 
that  war  should  be  declared  against  France  ; 
a  holy  war,  it  was  said,  against  treason, 
blasphemy,  and  murder,  and  a  necessary 
war,  in  order  to  break  off  all  connexion  be- 
twixt the  French  government,  and  the  dis- 
contented part  of  our  own  subjects,  who 
could  not  otherwise  be  prevented  from  tne 
most  close,  constant,  and  dangerous  inter- 
course with  them. 


Another  reason  for  hostilities,  more  in 
parallel  with  similar  cases  in  history,  oc- 
curred, from  the  French  having,  by  a  form- 
al decree,  proclaimed  the  Scheldt  naviga- 
ble. In  so  doing,  a  point  had  been  assum- 
ed as  granted,  upon  the  denial  of  which  the 
States  of  Holland  had  always  rested  as  the 
very  basis  of  their  na»ional  prosperity.  It 
is  probable  that  this  might,  in  other  circum- 
stances, have  been  made  the  subject  of  ne- 
gotiation. But  the  difference  of  opinion  on 
the  general  politics  of  the  Revolution, 
and  the  mode  in  which  it  had  been  carried 
on,  set  the  governments  of  France  and  Eng- 
land m  such  direct  and  mortal  opposition  to 
each  other,  that  war  becanie  inevitable. 

Lord  Gower,  the  British  ambassador,  was 
recalled  from  Paris,  immediately  on  the 
King's  execuuou.  The  prince  to  whom  he 
was  sent  was  no  more ;  and,  on  the  same 
ground,  the  French  envoy  at  the  Court  of 
St.  James's,  though  not  dismissed  by  his 
Majesty's  government,  was  made  acquaint- 
ed that  the  ministers  no  longer  considered 
him  as  an  ace  edited  person.  Yet,  through 
Maret,  a  subo  iinate  agent,  Pitt  continued 
to  keep  up  so  iie  correspondence  with  the 
French  govciiiment,  in  a  lingering  desire 
to  preserve  peace,  if  possible.  What  the 
British  minister  chiefly  wished  was,  to  have 
satisfactory  assurances  that  the  strong  ex- 
pressions of  a  decree,  which  the  French 
Convention  had  passed  on  the  19th  Novem- 
ber, were  not  to  be  considered  as  applica- 
ble to  England.  The  decree  was  in  these 
words  :  "  The  national  Convention  declares, 
in  the  name  of  the  French  nation,  that  ic 
will  grant  fraternity  and  assistance  to  all 
people  who  wish  to  recover  their  liberty  : 
and  it  charges  the  executive  power  to  send 
the  necessary  orders  to  the  generals,  to 
give  succours  to  such  people,  and  to  de- 
fend those  citizens  who  have  suffered,  or 
may  suffer,  in  the  cause  of  liberty." — 
••  That  this  decree  might  not  remain  a  se- 
cret to  those  for  whose  benefit  it  was  in- 
tended, a  translation  of  it,  in  every  foreign 
language,  was  ordered  to  be  printed."*  The 
Convention,  as  well  as  the  ministers  of 
France,  refused  every  disavowel  of  the  de- 
cree as  applicable  to  Great  Britain  ;  were 
equally  reluctant  to  grant  explanation  of 
any  kind  on  the  opening  of  tlie  Scheldt ; 
and  finally,  without  one  dissentient  v«ice, 
the  whole  Convention,  in  a  full  meeting, 
declared  war  upon  England ; — which  last 
nation  is,  nevertheless,  sometimes  repre- 
sented, even  at  this  day,  as  having  declared 
war  upon  France. 

In  fact,  Mr.  Pitt  came  unwillingly  into 
the  war.  With  even  more  than  his  great 
father's  ministerial  talents,  he  did  not  ha- 
bitually nourish  the  schemes  of  military 
triumph  which  were  familiar  to  the  genius 
of  Chatham,  and  was  naturally  unwilling, 
bv  engaging  in  an  expensive  war,  to  derange 
those  plans  of  finance  by  which  he  had  re- 
trieved the  revenues  of  Great  Britain  from 
a  very  low  condition.  It  is  said  of  Chat- 
ham, that  he  considered  it  as  the  best 
economy,  to  make  every  military  expedition 

*  Annual  Register  for  1793,  p.  153. 


Chap.XV.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


151 


which  he  fitted  out,  of  such  a  power  and 
strength,  as  to  overbear,  as  far  as  possible, 
all  chance  of  opposition.  A  general  officer, 
who  was  to  be  employed  in  such  a  piece  of 
service,  having  demanded  a  certain  body  of 
troops  as  sufficient  to  effect  his  purpose,' 
"  Taike  double  the  number,"  said  Lord  Chat- 
ham, "  and  answer  with  your  head  for  your 
Bucccss."  His  son  had  not  the  same  mode 
of  computation,  and  would  perhaps  have 
been  more  willing  to  have  reduced  tlie  offi- 
cer's terms,  chaffered  witli  him  for  the  low- 
est number,  and  finally  despatched  him  at 
the  head  of  as  small  a  body  as  the  general 
could  have  been  prevailed  onto  consider  as 
affording  any  prospect  Oi"  success.  This 
untimely  economy  of  resources  arose  from 
the  expense  attending  the  British  army. 
They  are  certainly  one  of  the  bravest,  best 
appointed,  and  most  liberally  paid  in  Eu- 
rope ;  but  in  forming  demands  on  their  val- 
our, and  expectations  from  their  exertions, 
their  fellow-subjects  are  apt  to  indulge  ex- 
travagant computations,  from  not  being  in 
the  habit  of  considering  military  calcula- 
tions, or  being  altogether  aware  of  the  nu- 
merical superiority  ptK'^'ssed  by  other 
countries.  That  one  Engi^nman  will  fight 
two  Frenchmen  is  certain  ;  but  that  he  will 
beat  them,  though  a  good  article  of  the  pop- 
ular creed,  must  be  allowed  to  be  more  du- 
bious j  and  it  is  not  wise  to  wage  war  on 
euch  odds,  or  to  suppose  that,  because  our 
soldiers  are  infinitely  valuable  to  us,  and 
a  little  expensive  besides,  it  is  therefore  ju- 
dicious to  send  them  in  small  numbers 
against  desperate  odds. 

Another  point,  well  touched  by  Sheridan, 
on  the  debate  of  the  question  of  peace  or 
war,  was  not  sufficiently  attended  to  by  the 
British  administration.  That  statesman, 
whose  perception  of  the  right  and  wrong  of 
any  great  constitutional  question  was  as 
acute  as  that  of  any  whomsoever  of  his  great 
political  contemporaries,  said,  "  He  wished 
every  possible  exertion  to  be  made  for  the 
preservation  of  peace.  If,  however,  that 
were  impracticable,  in  such  case,  but  in 
such  case  only,  he  proposed  to  vote  for  a  vi- 
gorous war.  Not  a  war  of  shifts  and  scraps, 
of  timid  operation,  or  protracted  effort:  but 
a  war  conducted  with  such  energy  as  might 
convince  the  world  that  we  were  contend- 
ing for  our  dearest  and  most  valuable  privi- 
leges."* 

Of  this  high-spirited  and  most  just  prin- 
ciple, the  policy  of  Britain  unfortunately 
lost  sight  during  the  first  years  of  the  war, 
when  there  occurred  more  than  one  oppor- 
tunity in  which  a  home  and  prostrating  blow 
might  have  been  aimed  at  her  gigantic  ad- 
versary. 

A  gallant  auxiliary  army  was,  however, 
immediately  fitted  out,  and  embarked  for 
Holland,  with  his  Royal  Highness  the  Duke 
of  York  at  their  head,  as  if  the  King  had 
meant  to  give  to  his  allies  the  dearest  pledge 
in  his  power,  how  serious  was  the  interest 
which  he  took  in  their  defence. 

But  though  well  equipped,  and  command- 
ed, under  the  young  Prince,  by  Abercrom- 

»  Annual  Register  for  1793,  p.  250. 


by,  Dundas,  Sir  William  Erskine,  and  many 
other  officers  of  gallantry  and  experience, 
it  must  be  owned  that  the  British  army  had 
not  then  recovered  the  depressing  and  dis- 
organizing effects  of  the  American  war.  The 
soldiers  were,  indeed,  fine  men  on  the  pa- 
rade ;  but  tlieir  external  appearance  was  ac- 
quired by  dint  of  a  thousand  minute  and  vex- 
atious attentions,  exacted  from  them  at  the 
expense  of  private  comfort,  and  which,  af- 
ter all,  only  gave  them  the  exterior  appear- 
ance of  high  drilling,  in  exchange  for  ease 
of  motion  and  simplicity  of  dress.  No 
general  system  of  manoeuvres,  we  believe, 
had  been  adopted  for  the  use  of  the  forces ; 
each  commanding  officer  managed  his  regi- 
ment according  to  his  own  pleasure.  In  a 
field-day,  two  or  three  battalions  could  not 
act  in  concert,  without  much  previous  con- 
sultation ;  in  action,  they  got  on  as  chance 
directed.  The  officers,  too,  were  acquaint- 
ed both  with  their  soldiers  and  with  their 
duty,  in  a  degree  far  inferior  to  what  is  now 
exacted  from  them.  Our  system  of  pur- 
chasing commissions,  which  is  necessary  to 
connect  the  army  with  the  country,  and 
the  property  of  the  country,  was  at  that 
time  so  much  abused,  that  a  mere  beardless 
boy  might  be  forced  at  once  through  the 
subordinate  and  subaltern  steps  into  a  com- 
pany or  a  majority,  without  having  been  a 
month  in  the  army.  In  short,  all  those  gi- 
gantic abuses  were  still  subsisting,  which 
the  illustrious  prince  whom  we  have  named 
eradicated  from  tne  British  army,  by  regu- 
lations for  which  his  country  can  never  be 
sufficiently  grateful,  and  without  which  they 
could  never  have  performed  the  distinguish- 
ed part  finally  destined  to  them  in  the  ter- 
rible drama,  which  was  about  to  open  under 
less  successful  auspices. 

There  hung  also,  like  a  cloud,  upon  the 
military  fame  of  England,  the  unfortunate 
issue  of  the  American  struggle,  in  which 
the  advantages  obtained  by  regulars,  against 
less  disciplined  forces,  had  been  trifled 
with  in  the  commencement,  until  the  gen- 
ius of  Washington,  and  the  increasing  spirit 
and  numbers  of  the  continental  armies, 
completely  overbalanced,  and  almost  anni- 
hilated, that  original  preponderance. 

Yet  the  British  soldiery  did  not  disgrace 
their  high  national  character,  nor  show 
themselves  unworthy  of  fighting  under  the 
eye  of  the  son  of  their  monarch  ;  and  when 
they  joined  the  Austrian  army,  under  the 
Prince  of  Saxe-Cobourg,  gave  many  demon- 
strations both  of  valour  and  discipline. 
The  storming  the  fortified  camp  of  the 
French  at  F'amars — the  battle  of  Lincelles 
— the  part  they  bore  in  the  sieges  of  Va- 
lenciennes and  Conde,  both  of  which  sur- 
rendered successively  to  the  allied  forces, 
upheld  the  reputation  of  their  country,  and 
amounted,  indeed,  to  what  in  former  wars 
would  have  been  the  fruits  of  a  very  suc- 
cessful campaign.  But  Europe  was  now 
arrived  at  a  time  when  war  was  no  longer 
to  be  carried  on  according  to  the  old  usage, 
by  the  agency  of  standing  armies  of  mode- 
rate numbers  ;  when  a  battle  lost  and  won, 
or  a  siege  raised  or  successful,  was 
thought  sufficient  for  the  active  exertions 


153 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV. 


of  the  year,  and  the  troops  on  either  side 
were  drawn  off  into  winter-quarters,  while 
diplomacy  took  up  the  contest  which  tac- 
tics had  suspended.  All  this  was  to  be 
laid  aside  ;  and  instead  of  this  drowsy  state 
of  hostility,  nations  were  to  contend  with 
each  other  like  individuals  in  mortal  con- 
flict, bringing  not  merely  the  hands,  but 
every  limb  of  the  body  into  violent  and  fu- 
rious struggle.  The  situation  of  France, 
both  in  internal  and  external  relations,  re- 
quired the  most  dreadlal  efforts  which  had 
been  ever  made  by  any  country ;  and  the 
exertions  which  she  demanded,  were  either 
willingly  made  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  in- 
habitants, or  extorted  by  the  energy  and  se- 
verity of  the  Revolutionary  government. 
We  must  bestow  a  single  glance  on  the 
state  of  the  country,  ere  we  proceed  to  no- 
tice the  measures  adopted  for  its  defence. 

On  the  eastern  frontier  of  Flanders,  con- 
siderable advances  had  been  made  by  the 
English  and  Hanoverian  army,  in  communi- 
cation and  conjunction  with  the  Austrian 
force  under  the  Prince  of  Saxe-Cobourg, 
an  excellent  officer,  Lut  who,  belonging  to 
the  old  school  of  formal  and  prolonged  war, 
never  sufficiently  considered  that  a  new  de- 
scription of  enemies  were  opposed  to  him, 
who  were  necessarily  to  be  combated  in  a 
different  manner  from  those  whom  his 
youth  had  encountered,  and  who,  unenter- 

E rising  himself,  does  not  appear  either  to 
ave  calculated  upon,  or  prepared  to  coun- 
teract, strokes  of  audacity  and  activity  on 
the  part  of  the  enemy. 

Tne  war  on  the  Rhine  was  furiously 
maintained  by  the  Prussians  and  Austrians 
united.  The  French  lost  the  important 
town  of  Mentz,  were  driven  out  of  other 
places,  and  experienced  many  reverses,  al- 
though Custine,  Moreau,  Houchard,  Beau- 
hamois,  and  other  general  officers  of  high 
merit,  had  already  given  lustre  to  the  arms 
of  the  Republic.  The  loss  of  the  strong 
lines  of  Weissenburgh,  which  were  carried 
by  General  Wurmser,  a  distinguished  Aus- 
trian officer,  completed  the  shade  of  disad- 
vantage which  were  hung  on  the  Republic- 
an banners. 

In_,  Piedmont,  the  French  were  also  un- 
successful, though  the  scale  was  less  grand 
and  imposing.  The  Republican  General 
Brunet  was  unfortunate,  and  he  was  forced 
from  his  camp  at  Belvidere  ;  while,  on  the 
side  of  Savoy,  the  King  of  Sardinia  also  ob- 
tained several  temporary  advantages. 

On  the  Pyrenees,  the  Republican  armies 
had  been  equally  unsuccessful.  A  Spanish 
army,  conducted  with  more  spirit  than  had 
been  lately  the  case  with  the  troops  of  that 
once  proud  monarchy,  had  defeated  the  Re- 
publican General  Servan,  and  crossed  the 
Bidassoa.  On  the  eastern  extremity  of 
these  celebrated  mountains,  the  Spaniards 
had  taken  the  towns  of  Port  Vendre  and 
Ollvoulles. 

Assailed  on  so  many  sides,  and  by  so 
many  enemies,  all  of  whom,  excepting  the 
Sardinians,  had  more  or  less  made  impres- 
sion upon  the  frontiers  of  the  Republic,  it 
might  seem,  that  the  only  salvation  which 
remained    for    France,    must    have    been 


sought  for  in  the  unanimity  of  her  inhabit- 
ants. But  so  far  was  the  nation  from  pot* 
sessing  this  first  of  requisites  for  a  buccess- 
ful  opposition  to  the  overpowering  coalition 
which  assailed  her,  that  a  dreadful  civil 
war  was  already  waged  in  the  western  prov- 
inces of  France,  which  threatened,  from  ita 
importance  and  the  success  of  the  ineur- 
geots,  to  undo  in  a  great  measure  the  work 
of  the  Revolution  ;  while  similar  discords 
breaking  out  on  different  points  in  tho 
south,  menaced  conclusions  no  less  formi- 
dable. 

It  does  not  belong  to  us  to  trace  the  in- 
teresting features  of  the  war  in  La  Vcndte 
with  a  minute  pencil,  but  they  mingle  too 
much  with  the  history  of  the  period  to  b« 
altogether  omitted. 

We  have  elsewhere  said,  that,  speaking 
of  La  Vendee  as  a  district,  it  was  there 
alone,  through  the  whole  kingdom  of 
France,  that  the  peasants  and  the  nobles, 
in  other  words  the  proprietors  and  cultiva- 
tors of  the  soil,  remained  on  terms  of  closa 
and  intimate  connexion  and  friendship, 
which  made  them  feel  the  same  undivided 
interest  in  the  great  changes  created  by  the 
Revolution.  The  situation  of  La  Vendee, 
its  soil  and  character,  as  well  as  the  man- 
ners of  the  people,  had  contributed  to  an 
arrangement  of  interests  and  habits  of  think- 
ing, which  rendered  the  union  betwixt  theso 
two  classes  indissoluble. 

La  Vendee  is  a  wooded  and  pastoral 
country,  not  indeed  mountainous,  but 
abounding  in  inequalities  of  ground,  crossed 
by  brooks,  and  intersected  by  a  variety  of 
canals  and  ditches,  made  for  drainage,  but 
which  become,  with  the  numerous  and  in- 
tricate thickets,  posts  of  great  strength  in 
time  of  war.  The  inclosures  seemed  to  be 
won,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  v/oodland;  and 
the  paths  which  traversed  the  country  were 
so  intricate  and  perplexed,  as  to  render  it 
inaccessible  to  strangers,  and  not  easily 
tra\elled  through  by  the  natives  themselves. 
There  were  almost  no  roads  practicable  for 
ordinary  carriages  during  the  rainy  season} 
and  the  rainy  season  in  La  Vendee  is  a  long 
one.  The  ladies  of  rank,  when  they  visit- 
ed, went  in  carriages  drawn  by  bullocks ; 
the  gentlemen,  as  well  as  the  peasants,  trav- 
elled chiefly  on  foot;  and  by  assistance  of 
the  long  leaping-poles,  which  they  carried 
for  that  purpose,  surmounted  the  ditchee 
and  other  obstacles  which  other  traveller* 
found  impassable. 

The  whole  tract  of  country  is  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  square,  and  lies  at 
the  mouth  and  on  the  southern  bank  of  the 
Loire.  The  internal  part  is  called  Le  Bo- 
cage  (the  Thicket,)  because  partaking  in  a 
peculiar  degree  of  the  wooded  and  intricate 
character  which  belongs  to  the  whole  coun- 
try. That  portion  of  La  Vendee  which  lies 
close  to  the  Loire,  and  nearer  its  mouth,  ia 
called  Le  Louroux.  The  neighbouring  dis- 
tricts partook  in  the  insurrection,  but  the 
strength  and  character  which  it  assumed 
was  derived  chietlv  from  La  Vendee. 

The  union  betwixt  the  noblesse  of  La 
Vendi'c  and  their  peasants,  was  of  the  most 
intimate  character.    Their  chief  e'xporU- 


Chap    XV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


153 


tions  from  the  district  consisted  in  the  im- 
mense herds  of  cattle  which  thej  reared 
in  their  fertile  meadows,  and  which  suppli- 
ed the  consumption  of  the  metropolis. 
These  herds,  as  well  as  tlie  land  on  which 
they  were  raised,  were  in  general  the  prop- 
erty of  the  Seigneur ;  but  the  farmer  pos- 
sessed a  joint  interest  in  the  latter.  He 
managed  the  stock  and  disposed  of  it  at 
market,  and  there  was  an  equitable  adjust- 
ment of  their  interests  in  disposing  of  the 
produce. 

Their  amusements  were  also  in  common. 
The  chase  of  wolves,  not  only  for  the  sake 
of  sport,  but  to  clear  the  woods  of  those 
ravenous  animals,  was  pursued  as  of  yore 
by  the  Seigneur  at  the  head  of  his  follow- 
ers ,and  vassals.  Upon  the  evenings  of 
Sundays  and  holidays,  the  young  people  of 
each  village  and  nn^tairie  repaired  to  the 
court-yard  of  the  chateau,  as  the  natural 
and  proper  scene  for  their  evening  amuse- 
ment, and  the  family  of  the  Baron  often 
took  part  in  the  pastime. 

In  a  word,  the  two  divisions  of  society 
depended  mutually  on  each  other,  and  were 
strongly  knit  together  by  ties,  which,  in 
other  districts  of  France,  existed  only  in 
particular  instances.  The  Vendean  peas- 
ant was  the  faithful  and  attached,  though 
humble  friend  of  his  lord  ;  he  was  his  part- 
ner in  bad  and  good  fortune  ;  submitted  to 
lis  decision  the  disputes  which  might  oc- 
cur betwixt  him  and  his  neighbours  ;  and 
bad  recourse  to  his  protection,  if  he  sus- 
tained wrong,  or  was  threatened  with  injus- 
tice from  any  one. 

This  system  of  simple  and  patriarchal 
manners  coald  not  have  long  subsisted  un- 
der any  great  inequality  of  fortune.  Ac- 
cordingly, v.e  find  that  tlije  wealthiest  of 
the  Vendean  nobility  did  not  hold  estates 
worth  more  than  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred 
a-year,  while  the  lowest  might  be  three  or 
four  hundred.  They  were  not  accordingly 
much  tempted  by  exuberance  of  wealth  to 
seek  to  display  magnificence;  and  such  as 
went  to  court,  and  conformed  to  the  fash- 
ions of  the  capital,  were  accustomed  to 
lay  them  aside  in  all  haste  when  they  re- 
turned to  the  Bocage,  and  to  rcassume  the 
•imple  manners  of  their  ancestors. 

All  the  incentives  to  discord  which 
abounded  elsewhere  through  France,  were 
wanting  in  this  wild  and  wooded  region, 
where  the  peasant  was  the  noble's  aSec- 
tionate  partner  and  friend,  the  noble  the 
natural  judge  and  protector  of  the  peasant. 
The  people  had  retained  the  feelings  of  the 
ancient  French  in  favour  of  royalty;  they 
listened  witli  dissatisfaction  and  disgust  to 
the  accounts  of  the  Revolution  as  it  pro- 
ceeded ;  and  feelins  themselves  none  of 
the  evils  in  which  it  oriffinated,  its  wliole 
tendency  became  the  object  of  their  alarm 
and  suspicion.  The  nrisilibouring districts, 
and  Brelagiie  in  particular,  were  ai;itated 
by  similar  commotions  ;  for  although  the 
revolutionary  principles  predominated  in 
the  towns  of  the  west,  they  were  not  rel- 
ished by  the  country  people  any  more  than 
hj  the  nobles.  Great  agitation  had  for  some 
tune  taken  place  through  the  provinces  of 
\.u..  I.  ^''^ 


Bretagne,  Anjou,  Maine,  and  Poiton,  to 
which  the  strength  of  the  insurrection  in 
La  Vendee  gave  impulse.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, a  political  impulse  which  induced  th« 
Vendeans  to  take  the  field.  The  influence 
of  religion,  seconded  by  that  of  natural 
affection,  was  the  immediate  stimulating 
motive. 

In  a  country  so  simple  and  virtuous  in  its 
manners  as  we  have  described  La  Vendee, 
religious  devotion  must  necessarily  be  a 
general  attribute  of  the  inhabitants,  who, 
conscious  of  loving  their  neighbours  as 
themselves,  are  equally  desirous,  to  the 
extent  of  their  strength  and  capacity,  to 
love  and  honour  the  Great  Being  who  cre- 
ated all.  The  Vendeans  were  therefore 
very  regular  in  the  performance  of  their 
prescribed  religious  duties  ;  and  their  par- 
ish priest,  or  cure,  held  an  honoured  and 
influential  rank  in  their  little  society,  was 
the  attendant  of  the  sick-bed  of  the  peas- 
ant, as  well  for  rendering  medical  as  reli- 
gious aid  ;  his  counsellor  in  his  family  af- 
fairs, and  often  the  arbiter  of  disputes  not 
of  sufficient  importance  to  be  carried  be- 
fore the  Seigneur.  The  priests  were  them- 
selves generally  natives  of  the  country, 
more  distinguished  for  the  primitive  duty 
with  whicli  they  discharged  their  office. 
than  for  talents  and  learning.  The  cure 
took  frequent  share  in  the  large  hunting 
parties  which  he  announced  from  the  pul- 
pit, and  after  having  said  mass,  attended  in 
person  with  the  fowling-piece  on  his  shoul- 
der. This  active  and  simple  manner  of 
life  rendered  the  priests  predisposed  to  en- 
counter the  fatigues  of  war.  They  accom- 
panied the  bands  of  Vendeans  with  the  cru- 
cifix displayed,  and  promised,  in  the  name 
of  the  Deity,  victory  to  the  survivors,  and 
honour  to  those  who  fell  in  the  patriotic 
combat.  But  Madame  La  Roche-Jacque- 
lien  repels,  as  a  calumny,  their  bearing 
arms,  except  for  the  purpose  of  self-de- 
fence. 

Almost  all  these  parish  priests  were 
driven  from  their  cures  by  the  absurd  and 
persecuting  fanaticism  of  that  decree  of 
the  Assembly,  which,  while  its  promoters 
railed  against  illiberality  and  intolerance, 
deprived  of  their  office  and  of  their  liveli- 
hood, soon  after  of  liberty  and  life,  thoB« 
churchmen  who  would  not  renounce  the 
doctrines  in  wliich  they  had  been  educated, 
and  which  they  had  sworn  to  maintain.*  In 
La  Vendee,  as  elsewhere,  where  the  cu- 
rates resisted  this  unjust  and  impolitic  in- 
junction of  the  legislature,  persecution  fol- 
lowed on  the  part  of  the  government,  and 
was  met  in  its  turn  by  violence  on  that  of 
the  people. 

The  peasants  maintained  in  secret  their 
ancient  pastors,  and  attended  their  minis- 
try in  woods  and  deserts  ;  while  the  intiud- 
I  ers,  who  were  settled  in  the  livings  of  tfte 
i  recusants,  dared  hardly  appear  in  the 
I  churches  without  the  protection  of  the  .N's- 
!  tional  Guards, 

.So  early  as  1791,  when  Dumouriez  com- 
I  manded  the  forces  at  Nantes,  and  the  dis- 

I  *Seepage92, 


154 


LIFE  OF  KAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV. 


iricts  adjacent,  UiC  flame  of  dissension  had 
begun  to  kindle.  That  general's  sagacity 
induced  him  to  do  his  best  to  appease  the 
quarrel  by  moderating  betwixt  the  parties. 
His  military  eyC'  detected  in  the  inhabit- 
ants and  their  country  an  alarming  scene 
for  civil  war.  He  received  the  slightest 
concessions  on  the  part  of  the  parish  priests 
as  satisfactory,  and  appears  to  have  quieted 
the  disturbances  of  the  country,  at  least  for 
a  time. 

But  in  1793,  the  same  causes  of  discon- 
tent, added  to  others,  hurried  the  inhabit- 
ants of  La  Vendue  into  a  general  insurrec- 
tion of  the  most  formidable  description. 
The  events  of  the  10th  of  August  1792,  had 
driven  from  Paris  a  great  proportion  of  the 
Royalist  nobility,  wlio  had  many  of  them 
carried  their  discontents  and  their  counter- 
revolutionary projects  into  a  country  pre- 
pared to  receive  and  adopt  them. 

Then  follov.ed  the  Conventional  decree, 
which  supported  their  declaration  of  war 
by  a  compulsory  levy  of  three  hundred  thou- 
sand men  throughout  France.  This  meas- 
ure was  felt  as  severe  by  even  those  de- 
partments in  which  the  revolutionary  prin- 
ciples were  most  predominant,  but  was 
regarded  as  altogether  intolerable  by  the 
Vendeans,  averse  alike  to  the  republican 
cause  and  principles.  They  resisted  its 
exaction  by  main  force,  delivered  the  con- 
scripts in  many  instances,  defeated  the 
National  Guards  in  others,  and  finding  that 
they  had  incurred  the  vengeance  of  a  san- 
guinary government,  resolved  by  force  to 
maintain  the  resistance  which  in  force  had 
begun.  Thus  originated  that  celebrated 
war,  which  raged  so  long  in  the  very  bosom 
of  France,  and  threatened  the  stability  of 
her  government,  even  while  tlie  Republic 
was  achieving  the  most  brilliant  victories 
over  her  foreign  enemies. 

It  is  remote  (rom  our  purpose  to  trace 
the  history  of  these  hostilities ;  but  a  sketch 
of  their  nature  and  character  is  essential  to 
a  general  view  of  the  Revolution,  and  the 
events  connected  with  it. 

The  insurgents,  though  engaged  in  the 
same  ca-use,  and  frequently  co-operating, 
were  divided  into  different  bodies,  under 
leaders  independent  of  each  other.  Those 
of  the  right  bank  of  the  Loire  were  chiefly 
under  the  orders  of  the  celebrated  La  Cha- 
rette,  who,  descended  from  a  family  distin- 
guished as  commanders  of  privateers,  and 
himself  a  naval  officer,  had  taken  on  him 
this  dangerous  command.  .\n  early  wan- 
dering disposition,  not  unusual  amon2;youth 
of  eager  and  ambitious  character,  had  made 
him  acquainted  with  the  inmost  recesses 
of  the  woods,  and  his  native  genius  had  in- 
duced him  to  anticipate  the  military  advan- 
tages which  they  afforded.  In  his  case,  as 
in  many  others,  eitlier  the  sagacity  of  these 
■ninstructed  peasants  led  tliem  to  choose 
for  command  men  whose  talents  best  fitted 
them  to  enjoy  it,  or  perliaps  the  perils 
whicli  environed  such  authority  prevented 
its  being  aspired  to,  save  by  those  whom  a 
miixture  of  resolution  and  prudence  led  to 
fcol  themselves  capable  of  maintaining  their 
character  when  invested  witli   it.     It  was 


remarkable  also,  that  in  choosing  their  lead- 
ers, the  insurgents  made  no  distinction  be- 
tween the  noblesse  and  the  inferior  ranks. 
Names  renowned  in  ancient  history — Tal- 
mont,  D'.\utichamp,  L'Escure,  and  La 
Roche-Jacquelein,  were  joined  in  equal 
command  with  the  game-keeper  Stonet; 
Cathelineau,  an  itinerant  wool-merchant  j 
La  Charette,  a  roturier  of  slight  pretensions  ; 
and  others  of  the  lowest  order,  whom  the 
time  and  the  public  voice  called  into  com- 
mand, but  who,  nevertheless,  do  not  seem, 
in  general,  to  have  considered  their  official 
command  as  altering  the  natural  distinction 
of  their  rank  in  society.*  In  their  success, 
they  formed  a  general  council  of  oflicers, 
priests,  and  others,  who  held  their  meetings 
at  Chatillon,  and  directed  the  military 
movements  of  the  different  bodies ;  assem- 
bled them  at  pleasure  on  particular  points, 
and  for  particular  objects  of  service  ;  and 
dispersed  them  to  their  homes  when  these 
were  accomplished. 

With  an  organization  so  simple,  the  Ven- 
dean  insurgents,  in  about  two  months,  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  several  towns  and  an 
extensive  tract  of  country  ;  and  though  re- 
peatedly attacked  by  regular  forces,  com- 
manded by  experienced  generals,  they 
were  far  more  frequently  victors  than  van- 
quished, and  inflicted  more  loss  on  the  re- 
publicans by  gaining  a  single  battle,  than 
they  themselves  sustained  in  repeated  de- 
feats. 

Yet  at  first  their  arms  were  of  the  most 
simple  and  imperfect  kind.  Fowling-pie- 
ces, and  fusees  of  every  calibre,  they  pos- 
sessed from  their  habits  as  huntsmen  and 
fowlers  ;  for  close  encounter  they  had  only 
scythes,  axes,  clubs,  and  such  weapons  as 
anger  places  most  readily  in  the  hands  of 
the  peasant.  Their  victories,  latterly,  sup- 
plied them  with  arms  in  abundance,  and 
they  manufactured  gunpowder  for  their  own 
use  in  great  quantity. 

Their  tactics  were  peculiar  to  themselves, 
but  of  a  kind  so  well  suited  to  their  coun- 
try and  their  habits,  that  it  seems  impossi- 
ble to  devise  a  better  and  more  formidablo 
system.  The  Vendean  took  the  field  with 
the  greatest  simplicity  of  military  equip- 
munt.  His  scrip  served  as  a  cartridge-box. 
his  uniform  was  the  country  short  jacket 
and  pantaloons,  which  he  wore  at  his  ordi- 
nary labour  ;  a  cloth  knapsack  contained 
bread  and  some  necessaries,  and  thus 
he  was  ready  for  service.  They  were  ac- 
customed to  move  with  great  secrecy  and 
silence  among  the  thickets  and  enclosures 
by  which  their  country  is  inter3ec^ed,  and 
were  thus  enabled  to  choose  at  pleasure  the 
most  favourable  points  of  attack  or  defence. 
Their  army,  unlike  any  other  in  the  world, 
was  not  divided  into  companies,  or  regi- 
ments, but  followed  in  bands,  and  at  their 

*  Madame  La  Roche-Jacquelein  mentions  an 
interesting  anecdote  of  a  young  plebeian,  a  distin- 
guished officer,  whose  habits  of  respect  would 
scarce  permit  him  to  sit  down  in  her  oresence. 
This  cannot  be  termed  servility.  It  is  iha  oobl* 
pride  of  a  generous  mind,  faithful  to  its  •rigioal 
impressions,  and  diiiclaiming  the  merit*  wbick 
others  are  ready  to  heap  on  it. 


Chap.  XV.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


155 


pleasure,  the  chiefs  to  whom  they  were 
most  attached.  Instead  of  drums  or  milita- 
ry music,  they  used,  like  the  ancient  Swiss 
and  Scottish  soldiers,  the  horns  of  cattle  for 
giving  signals  to  their  troops.  Their  offi- 
cers wore,  for  distinction,  a  sort  of  chequer- 
ed red  handkerchief  knotted  round  their 
head,  with  others  of  the  same  colour  tied 
round  their  waist,  by  way  of  sash,  in  which 
they  stuck  their  pistols.* 

The  attack  of  the  Vendeans  was  that  of 
sharp-shooters.  They  dispersed  themselves 
80  as  to  surround  their  adversaries  with  a 
semicircular  fire,  maintained  by  a  body  of 
formidable  marksmen  accustomed  to  take 
aim  with  fatal  precision,  and  whose  skill 
was  the  more  dreadful,  because,  being  ha- 
bituated to  take  advantage  of  every  tree, 
bush,  or  point  of  shelter,  those  who  were 
dealing  destruction  amongst  others,  were 
themselves  comparatively  free  from  risk. 
This  manoeuvre  was  termed  s'egailler  ;  and 
the  e.Tecution  of  it  resembling  the  Indian 
bush-fighting,  was,  like  the  attack  of  the 
Red  warriors,  accompanied  by  whoops  and 
shouts,  which  seemed,  from  the  extended 
space  through  which  they  resounded,  to 
multiply  the  number  of  the  assailants. 

When   the    Republicans,  galled  in  this 
manner,  pressed  forward  to  a  close  attack, 
they  found  no  enemy   on  which  to  wreak 
their  vengeance  ;  for  the  loose  array  of  the 
Vendeans  gave  immediate  passage  to  the 
head  of  the   cliarging    column,   while    its 
flanks,  as  it  advanced,  were  still  more   ex- 
posed than  before  to  the  murderous  fire  of 
their  invisible    enemies.     In  this  manner 
they  were  sometimes  led  on  from  point  to 
point,  until  the  regulars  meeting  with  a  bar- 
ricade, or  an   abhatis,  or  a  strong  position 
in  front,  or  becoming  perhaps  involved  in  a 
defile,  the  Vendeans  exchanged  their  fatal  I 
musketry    for  a  close   and  furious    onset, 
throwing  themselves  with  the  most  devot- 
ed courage  among  the  enemy's  ranks,  and 
slaughtering  them  in  great  numbers.    If,  on  ' 
the  other  hand,  the   insurgents  were  com- 
pelled to  give  way,  a  pursuit  was  almost  as 
dangerous  to  the  Republicans  as  an  engage-  | 
ment.     The  Vendean,  when  hard-pressed,  j 
threw  away  his  clogs,  or  wooden-shoes,  of 
which  he  could  make  himself  a  new  pair  at  I 
the  next  resting-place,  sprang  over  a  fence  j 
or  canal,  loaded  his  fusee  as  he  ran,  and  , 
discharged  it  at  the  pursuer  with   a  fat.ol  | 
aim,   whenever   he   found   opportunity  of  i 
pausing  for  that  purpose.  I 

This  species  of  combat,  which  the  ground  | 
rendered  so  advantageous  to  the  Vendeans,  i 
was  equally  so  in  case  of  victory  or  defeat,  j 
If  the  Republicans  were  vanquished,  tlicir  I 
army  was  nearly  destroyed;  for  the  preser- 
vation  of  order   became    impossible,   and 

*  The  adoption  of  this  wild  costume,  which  pro- 
eored  them  the  name  ofbritrands,  from  its  fiintastic  ( 
singularity,  originated  in  the  whim  of  Henri  La 
Roohe-Jacquelein,  who  first  used  the  attire.  But 
as  this  peeuliarity,  joined  to  the  venturous  expos- 
ore  of  his  person,  occasioned  a  general  cry  amon^' 
the  Republicans,  of  "  Aim  at  the  red  liandker- 
•hief,"  other  officers  assumed  the  fashion  to  di- 
minish the  danger  of  the  chie'"  whom  they  valued 
•o  highly,  until  at  length  it  became  a  kind  of  uni- 
form. 


without  order  their  extermination  was  in- 
evitable, while  baggage,  ammunition,  car- 
riages, guns,  and  all  the  maverial  part,  as  it 
is  called,  of  the  defeated  army,  fell  into 
possession  of  the  conquerors.  On  the  o!'  - 
er  hand,  if  the  Vendeans  sustained  a  !(.->, 
the  victors  found  nothing  on  the  field  but 
the  bodies  of  the  slain,  and  the  tabots  or 
wooden-shoes,  of  the  fugitives.  The  few 
prisoners  whom  they  made  had  generally 
thrown  away  or  concealed  their  arms,  and 
their  army  having  no  baggage  or  carriages 
of  any  kind,  could  of  course  lose  none. 
Pursuit  was  very  apt  to  convert  an  advan- 
tage into  a  defeat ;  for  the  cavalry  could  not 
act,  and  the  infantry  dispersed  in  the  chase, 
became  frequent  victims  to  those  whom 
they  pursued. 

In  the  field,  the  Vendeans  were  courage- 
ous to  rashness.  They  hesitated  not  to  at- 
tack and  carry  artillery  with  no  other  weap- 
ons than  their  staves ;  and  most  of  their 
worst  losses  proceeded  from  their  attack- 
ing fortified  tovi'ns  and  positions  with  the 
purpose  of  carrying  them  by  main  force. 
After  conquest  they  were  in  general  hu- 
mane and  merciful.  But  this  depended  on 
the  character  of  their  chiefs.  At  Mache- 
coul,  the  insurgents  conducted  themselves 
with  great  ferocity  in  the  very  beginning  of 
the  civil  war ;  and  towards  the  end  of  it, 
mutual  and  reciprocal  injuries  had  so  exas- 
perated the  parties  against  each  other,  that 
quarter  was  neither  given  nor  taken  on  ei- 
ther side.  Yet  until  provoked  by  the  es- 
treme  cruelties  of  the  Revolutionary  party, 
and  unless  when  conducted  bv  some  pecu- 
liarly ferocious  chief,  the  character  of  the 
\'endeans  united  clemency  with  courage. 
They  gave  quarter  readily  to  the  vanquish- 
ed, but  having  no  means  of  retaining  pris- 
oners, they  usually  shaved  their  heads  be- 
fore they  set  them  at  liberty,  that  they 
might  be  distinguished,  if  found  again  in 
arms,  contrary  to  their  parole.  A  no  less 
striking  feature,  was  the  severity  of  a  dis- 
cipline respecting  property,  which  was 
taught  them  only  by  their  moral  sense.  No 
temptation  could  excite  them  to  pillage  ;  and 
Madame  La  Roche-Jacquelein  has  preserv- 
ed the  following  singular  instance  of  their 
simple  honesty  : — After  the  peasants  had 
taken  the  town  of  Bressuire  by  storm,  she 
overheard  two  or  three  of  them  complain 
of  the  want  of  tobacco,  to  the  use  of  which 
they  were  addicted,  like  the  natives  of 
moist  countries  in  general.  "  What,"  said 
the  lady,  ■'  is-  there  no  tobacco  in  the 
sliops  ?" — "  Tobacco  enough,"  answered 
the  simple-hearted  and  honest  peasants, 
who  had  not  learned  to  make  steel  supply 
tlie  want  of  gold, — "  tobacco  enough  ;  but, 
we  have  no  money  to  pay  for  it." 

Amidst  these  primitive  warriors  were 
mingled  many  gentlemen  oT  the  first  fami- 
lies in  France,  who.  Royalists  from  princi- 
ple, had  fled  to  La  Vendee  rather  than  sub- 
mit to  the  dominion  of  tha  Convention,  or 
the  Convention's  yet  more  cruel  masters. 
There  were  found  many  men,  the  anec- 
dotes told  of  whom  remind  us  continually 
of  the  age  of  Henri  Quatre,  and  the  heroess 
of  chivalry.    In  these  ranks,  and  almost  oq 


156 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV. 


a  IcTel  with  the  valiant  peasants  of  which 
they  were  composed,  fought  the  calm,  stea- 
dy, and  magnajiimous  L'Escure, — D'Elbee, 
a  man  of  the  most  distinguished  military 
reputation, — Bonchamp,  the  gallant  and  the 
able  officer,  who,  like  the  Constable  Mont- 
morency, with  all  his  talent,  was  persecut- 
ed by  fortune, — the  chivalrous  Henry  La 
Roche-Jacquelein,  whose  call  upon  his  sol- 
diers was — "  If  I  fly,  slay  me — if  I  advance, 
follow  me — if  I  fall,  avenge  me  ;"  with 
other  names  distinguished*  in  the  roll  of 
fame,  and  not  the  less  so  that  they  have 
been  recorded  by  the  pen  of  affection. 

The  object  of  the  insurrection  was  an- 
nounced in  the  title  of  The  Royal  and 
Catholic  Army,  assumed  by  the  Vendeans. 
In  their  moments  of  highest  hope  their 
wishes  were  singularly  modest.  Had  they 
gained  Paris,  and  replaced  the  royal  au- 
thority in  France,  they  meditated  the  fol- 
lowing simple  boons  : — 1.  They  had  resolv- 
ed to  petition,  that  the  name  of  La  Vendee 
be  given  to  the  Bocage  and  its  dependen- 
cies, which  should  be  united  under  a  sepa- 
rate administration,  instead  of  forming,  as 
at  present,  a  part  of  three  d-stinct  provin- 
ces.— 2.  That  the  restored  Monarch  would 
honour  the  Bocage  with  a  visit. — 3.  That 
in  remembrance  of  the  loyal  services  of  the 
country,  a  white  flag  should  be  displayed 
from  each  steeple,  and  the  King  should  add 
a  cohort  of  Vendeans  to  his  body  guard. — 
4.  That  former  useful  projects  of  im- 
proving the  navigation  of  the  Loire  and 
its  canals,  should  be  perfected  by  the  gov- 
ernment. So  little  of  selfish  hope  or  am- 
bition was  connected  with  the  public 
spirit  of  these  patriarchal  warriors. 

The  war  of  La  Vendee  was  waged  with 
various  fate  for  nearly  two  years,  during 
which  the  insurgents,  or  brigands  as  they 
were  termed,  gained  by  far  the  greater  num- 
ber of  advantages,  though  with  means  infi- 
nitely inferior  to  those  of  the  government, 
which  detached  against  them  one  general 
after  another,  at  the  head  of  numerous  ar- 
mies, with  equally  indifferent  success. 
Most  of  the  Republicans  intrusted  with 
this  fatal  command  suffered  by  the  guillo- 
tine, f<  r  not  having  done  that  which  circum- 
stances rendered  impossible. 

Upwards  of  two  hundred  battles  and  skir- 
mishes were  fought  in  this  devoted  coun- 
try. The  revolutionary  fever  was  in  its  ac- 
cess ;  the  shedding  of  blood  seemed  to  have 
become  positive  pleasure  to  the  perpetra- 
tors of  slaughter,  and  was  varied  by  each 
invention  which  crusty  could  invent  to 
give  it  new  zest.  The  habitations  of  the 
Vendeans  were  destroyed,  their  families 
subjected   to  violation  and  massacre,  their 

*The  Memoirs  of  Madame  Eonchamp,  and  still 
more  those  of  La  Roche-Jacquelein,  are  remarka- 
ble for  the  virtues  of  the  heart,  as  well  as  the  tai- 
nts, which  are  displayed  by  their  authors.  With- 
out affectation,  without  vanity,  without  violnnce 
or  impotent  repining,  those  ladic^i  have  described 
the  sanguinary  and  irre<;ular  warfare,  in  which 
they  and  tho^c  who  were  dearest  to  thorn  wnre  eii- 
nced  for  so  long  and  stormy  a  period ;  and  we 
ariso  from  the  perusal  sadder  and  wiser,  by  havin;? 
teamed  what  the  brave  can  daro,  and  what  the 
ipatia  can  endure  with  palietnco 


cattle  houghed  and  slaughtered,  and  their 
crops  burnt  and  wasted.  One  Republican 
column  assumed  and  merited  the  name  of 
the  Infernal,  by  the  horrid  atrocities  which 
they  committed.  At  Pillau,  they  roasted 
the  women  and  children  in  a  heated  oven. 
Many  similGir  horrors  could  be  added,  did 
not  the  heart  and  hand  recoil  from  the 
task.  Without  quoting  any  more  special 
instances  of  horror,  we  use  the  words  of  a 
Republican  eye-witness,  to  express  the 
general  spectacle  presented  by  the  theatre 
of  civil  conflict. 

"  I  did  not  see  a  single  male  being  at  the 
towns  of  Saint  Hermand,  Cliantonnay,  or 
Herbiers.  .\  few  women  alone  had  escap- 
ed the  sword.  Country-seats,  cottages, 
habitations  of  whichever  kind,  were  burnt. 
The  herds  and  flocks  were  wandering  ia 
terror  around  their  usual  places  of  shelter, 
now  smoking  in  ruins.  I  was  surprised  by 
night,  but  the  wavering  aud  dismal  blaze  of 
conflagration  afforded  light  over  the  coun- 
try. To  the  bleating  of  the  disturbed  flocks, 
and  bellowing  of  the  terrified  cattle,  waa 
joined  the  deep  hoarse  notes  of  carrion 
crows,  and  the  yells  of  wild  animals  com- 
ing from  the  recesses  of  the  woods  to  prey 
on  the  carcases  of  the  slain.  .\t  length  a 
distant  column  of  fire,  widening  and  in- 
creasing as  I  approached,  served  me  as  a 
beacon.  It  was  the  town  of  Mortagne  in 
flames.  When  I  arrived  there,  no  living 
creatures  were  to  be  seen,  save  a  few 
wretched  women  wlio  were  striving  to  save 
some  remnants  of  their  property  from  the 
general  conflagration."'* 

Such  is  civil  war  ;  and  to  this  pass  had  ita 
extremities  reduced  the  smiling,  peaceful, 
and  virtuous  country,  which  we  have  de- 
scribed a  few  pages  before. 

It  is  no  wonder,  after  such  events,  that 
the  hearts  of  the  peasants  became  harden- 
ed in  turn,  and  that  they  executed  fearful 
vengeance  on  those  who  could  not  have 
the  face  to  expect  mercy.  We  read,  there- 
fore, without  surprise,  that  the  Republican 
General  Haxo,  a  man  of  great  military  tal- 
ent, and  who  had  distinguished  himself  in 
the  Vendean  war,  shot  himself  through  the 
head  when  he  saw  his  army  defeated  by  the 
insurgents,  rather  tlian  encouuter  their  ven- 
geance. 

During  tlie  superiority  of  the  Vendeans, 
it  may  be  asked  why  their  eftorts,  so  gigan- 
tic in  tliemselves,  never  extended  beyond 
the  frontier  of  their  own  country  ;  and  why 
an  insurrection,  so  considerable  and  so  sus- 
tained, neither  made  any  great  impression 
on  the  French  Convention,  where  they 
were  spoken  of  only  as  a  handful  of  brig- 
ands, nor  on  foreign  nations,  by  whom  their 
existence,  far  less  their  success,  seema 
hardly  to  have  been  known  ?  On  the  for- 
mer subject,  it  is  perhaps  sufficient  to  ob- 
serve, that  the  war  with  the  Vendeans,  and 
their  mode  of  conducting  it,  so  formidable 
in  their  own  country,  became  almost  nuga- 
tory when  extended  into  districts  of  an  open 
character,   and   affording  high    roads    and 


*Les  Memoires  d'un  Ancien    AdmiaictnUMW 
ded  Aiiu^3  UcpublicaioM 


Chap.  XV.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


157 


plains,  by  which  cavalry  and  artillery  could 
act  against  peasants,  who  formed  no  close 
ranks,  and  carried  no  bayonets.  Besides, 
the  Vendeans  remained  bound  to  their  or- 
dinary occupation — they  were  necessarily 
children  of  the  soil — and  their  army  usually 
dispersed  after  the  battle  was  over,  to  look 
after  their  cattle,  cultivate  the  plot  of  ara- 
ble land,' and  attend  to  their  families.  The 
discipline  of  their  arrays,  in  which  mere 
good-will  supplied  the  place  of  the  usual 
distinctions  of  rank,  would  not  have  been 
sufficient  to  keep  them  united  in  long  and 
distant  marches,  and  they  must  have  found 
the  want  of  a  commissariat,  a  train  of  bag- 
gage, field-pieces,  a  general  staff,  and  all 
the  other  accompaniments  of  a  regular  ar- 
my, which,  in  the  difficult  country  of  La 
Vendee,  familiar  to  the  natives,  and  un- 
known to  strangers,  could  be  so  easily  dis- 
pensed with.  In  a  word,  an  army  which, 
under  circumstances  of  hope  and  excita- 
tion, might  one  day  amount  to  thirty  or  for- 
ty thousand,  and  on  the  next  be  diminished 
to  the  tenth  part  of  the  number,  might  be 
excellent  for  fighting  battles,  but  could  not 
be  relied  on  for  making  conquests,  or  se- 
curing the  advantages  of  victory. 

It  is  not  but  that  a  man  of  D'Elbee's 
knowledge  in  the  art  of  war,  who  acted  as 
one  of  their  principal  leaders,  meditated 
higher  objects  for  the  Vendeans  than  mere- 
ly the  defence  of  their  own  province. 

A  superb  prospect  offered  itself  to  them 
by  a  meditated  attack  on  the  town  of  J\an- 
tes.  Upon  the  success  of  tliis  attempt 
turned  perhaps  the  fate  of  the  Revolution. 
This  beautiful  and  important  commercial 
city  is  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Loire,  which  is  there  a  fine  navigable  river, 
about  twenty-seven  miles  from  its  junction 
with  the  sea.  It  is  without  fortifications 
of  any  regular  description,  but  had  a  garri- 
son of  perhaps  ten  thousand  men,  and  wa.'; 
covered  by  such  hasty  works  of  defence  as 
time  had  permitted  them  to  erect.  The 
force  of  the  Vendeans  by  which  it  was  at- 
tacked, has  been  estimated  so  high  as  thir- 
ty or  forty  thousand  men  under  D'Elbec, 
while  the  place  was  blockaded  on  the  left 
bank  by  Charette,  and  an  army  of  royalists 
equal  in  number  to  the  actual  assailants. 
Had  this  important  place  been  gained,  it 
would  probably  have  changed  the  face  of 
the  war.  One  or  more  of  the  French  prin- 
ces might  have  resorted  there  with  such 
adherents  as  tiiey  had  then  in  r.rms.  The 
Loire  was  open  to  succours  from  England, 
the  indecision  of  whose  cabinet  might  have 
been  determined  by  a  success  so  impor- 
tant. Bretagne  and  Xormandy,  already 
strongly  disposed  to  the  royal  cause,  would 
have,  upon  sucli  encouragement,  risen  in 
mass  upon  the  Republicans  ;  and  as  Poitou 
and  Anjou  were  already  in  possession  of 
The  Royal  and  Catholic  .\.rmy,  they  micht 
probably  have  opened  a  march  upon  Paris, 
distracted  as  the  capital  then  was  by  civil 
and  foreign  war. 

Accordingly,*  the  rockets  which  were 
thrown  up,  and  the  sound  of  innumerable 

•18th  June  1799, 


bugle-horns,  intimated  to  General  Can- 
claux,  who  commanded  the  town,  that  he 
was  to  repel  a  general  attack  of  the  Ven- 
deans. Fortunately  for  the  infant  republic, 
he  was  a  man  of  military  skill  and  high 
courage,  and  by  his  dexterous  use  of  such 
means  of  defence  as  the  place  afforded,  and 
particularly  by  a  great  superiority  of  artil- 
lery, he  was  enabled  to  baffle  the  attacks 
of  the  Vendeans,  although  they  penetrated, 
with  the  utmost  courage,  into  the  suburbs, 
and  engaged  at  close  quarters  the  Republi- 
can troops.  They  were  compelled  to  re- 
treat after  a  fierce  combat  which  lasted 
from  three  in  the  morning  till  four  in  the 
afternoon.* 

At  different  times  after  the  failure  of 
this  bold  and  well-imagined  attempt,  op- 
portunities occurred  during  which  the  al- 
lies, and  the  English  government  in  par- 
ticular, might  have  thrown  important  suc- 
cours into  La  Vendee.  The  island  of  Noir- 
moutier  was  for  some  time  in  possession 
of  the  Royalists,  when  arms  and  monej 
might  have  been  supplied  to  them  to  any 
amount.  Auxiliary  forces  would  probably 
have  been  of  little  service,  considering 
in  wliat  sort  of  country  they  were  to  be  en- 
gaged, and  with  wliat  species  of  troops 
they  were  to  act.  At  least  it  would  have 
required  the  talents  of  a  Peterborough  or  a 
Montrose,  in  a  foreign  commander,  to  have 
freed  himself  sufficiently  from  the  tram- 
mels of  military  pedantry,  and  availed  him- 
self of  the  peculiar  qualities  of  such  troops 
as  the  V'endeans,  irresistible  after  their 
own  fashion,  but  of  a  character  the  most 
opposite  possible  to  the  ideas  of  excellence 
entertained  by  a  mere  martinet. 

But  it  is  nov/  well  known,  there  was  a 
division  in  the  British  cabinet  concerning 
the  mode  of  carrying  on  the  war.  Pitt  was 
extremely  unwilling  to  interfere  with  the 
internal  government  of  France.  He  de- 
sired to  see  the  Barrier  of  Flanders  (so 
foolishly  thrown  open  by  the  Emperor  Jo- 
seph) again  re-established,  and  he  hoped 
from  tlie  success  of  the  allied  arms,  that 
this  might  be  attained. — that  the  French 
lust  for  attacking  their  neighbours  might  b« 
endeii — their  wildness  for  crusading  in  the 
cause  of  innovation  checked,  and  some 
political  advances  to  a  regular  government 
effected.  On  the  other  hand,  the  enthusi- 
astic, ingenious,  but  somewhat  extravagant 
opinions  of  Windham,  led  him  to  espouse 
those  of  Burke  in  their  utmost  extent;  and 
he  recommended  to  England,  as  to  Europe, 
the  replacing  the  Bourbons,  with  the  an- 
cient royal  govcrnme!;t  and  constitution, 
as  the  fundamental  principle  on  which  the 
war  should  be  waged.  This  variance  of 
opinion  so  far  divided  the  British  counsels, 
tliat,  as  it  proved,  no  sufficient  efforts  were 

*  A  picture  by  Veniet,  representing  the  attack 
on  Xnntos,  estimable  as  a  work  of  art,  but  ex- 
tremely curious  in  a  historical  point  of  view,  used 
to  be  in  the  Luxembourg  pala  ;o,  and  is  probably 
now  remo\-0(l  to  the  Louvre.  The  Vendeans  ar« 
prcriented  there  in  iill  their  simplicity  of  attire, 
and  devoted  valour  j  the  priests  who  attended  them 
displaying  their  crosses,  and  encouraging  the  as 
saiilt,  which  is,  on  the  other  hand,  repelled  by  tte 
regular  steadiness  of  the  Republican  lorcei 


15S 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV. 


made,  either  on  the  one  line  of  conduct  or 
the  other. 

Indeed,  Madame  La  Roche-Jacquelein 
(who,  however,  we  are  apt  to  think,  has 
been  in  some  degree  misled  in  her  account 
of  that  matter)  says,  the  only  despatches 
received  by  the  Vendeans  from  the  British 
cabinet,  indicated  a  singular  ignorance  of 
the  state  of  La  Vendee,  which  was  cer- 
tainly near  enough  to  Jersey  and  Guernsey, 
to  have  afforded  the  means  of  obtaining 
accurate  information  upon  the  nature  and 
principles  of  the  Vendean  insurrection. 

The  leaders  of  the  Royal  and  Catholic 
Army  received  their  first  communication 
from  Britain  through  a  Royalist  emissary, 
the  Chevalier  de  Tinteniac,  who  carried 
them  concealed  in  the  wadding  of  his  pis- 
tols, addressed  to  a  supposed  chief  named 
Gaston,  whose  name  had  scarce  been  known 
among  them.  In  this  document  they  were 
required  to  say  for  what  purpose  they  were 
in  arms,  whether  in  behalf  of  the  old  gov- 
ernment, or  of  the  constitution  of  1791, 
or  the  principles  of  the  Girondists  ?  These 
were  strange  questions  to  be  asked  of  men 
who  had  been  in  the  field  as  pure  Royalists 
for  more  than  five  months,  who  might  have 
reasonably  hoped  that  the  news  of  their 
numerous  and  important  victories  had  re- 
sounded through  all  Europe,  but  must  at 
least  have  expected  they  sliould  be  well 
known  to  those  neighbours  of  France  who 
were  at  war  with  her  present  government. 
Assistance  was  promised,  but  in  a  general 
and  indecisive  way ;  nor  did  the  testimony 
of  Monsieur  de  Tinteniac  give  his  friends 
much  assurance  that  it  was  seriously  pro- 
posed. In  fact,  no  support  ever  arrived 
until  after  the  first  pacification  of  La  Ven- 
dee. The  ill-fated  expedition  to  Quiberon, 
delayed  until  the  cause  of  royalty  was  nigii 
hopeless,  was  at  length  undertaken,  wlien 
its  only  consequence  was  that  of  involving 
in  absolute  destruction  a  multitude  of  brave 
and  high-spirited  men.  But  on  looking 
back  on  a  game  so  doubtful,  it  is  easy  to 
criticise  the  conduct  of  the  players ;  and 
perhaps  no  blunder  in  war  or  politics  is  so 
common,  as  that  which  arises  from  missing 
the  proper  moment  of  exertion. 

The  French,  although  more  able  to  seize 
the  advantageous  opportunity  than  we,  (for 
their  government  being  always  in  practice 
something  despotic,  is  at  liberty  to  act  more 
boldly,  secretly,  and  decisively,  than  tliat 
of  England,)  are  nevertheless  chargeable 
with  similar  errors.  If  the  English  cabinet 
missed  the  opportunities  given  by  the  in- 
surrection of  La  Vendee,  the  French  did 
not  more  actively  improve  tliose  afi"orded 
by  the  Irish  rebellion  ;  and  if  we  had  to  re- 
gret the  too  tardy  and  unhappy  expedition 
to  Quiberon,  they  in  their  turn  might  repent 
having  thrown  away  the  troops  whom  they 
landed  at  Castlehaven,  after  the  pacification 
of  Ireland,  for  the  sole  purpose,  it  would 
eeem,  of  surrendering  at  Ballinamuck. 

It  is  yet  more  wonderful,  that  a  country 
whose  dispositions  were  so  loyal,  and  its 
local  advantages  so  strong,  should  not  have 
been  made  by  the  loyalists  in  general  the 
•eutre  of  those  counter-revolutionary  ex- 


ertions which  were  vainly  expended  on  the 
iron  eastern  frontier,  where  the  fine  army 
of  Conde  wasted  their  blood  about  paltry 
frontier  redoubts  and  fortresses.  The  no- 
bles and  gentlemen  of  France,  fighting 
abreast  with  the  gallant  peasants  of  La 
Vendee,  inspired  with  the  same  sentiments 
of  loyalty  with  themselves,  would  have 
been  more  suitably  placed  than  in  the  mer- 
cenary ranks  of  foreign  nations.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  the  late  King,  Louis  XVIII.,  and 
also  his  present  Majesty,  were  desirous  t« 
have  exposed  their  persons  in  the  war  of 
La  Vendee.  The  lormer  wrote  to  the  Duke 
d'Harcourt — "  What  course  remains  for  me 
but  La  Vendee  ? — Who  can  place  me 
there  ? — England — Insist  upon  that  point  ; 
and  tell  the  English  ministers  in  my  name, 
that  I  demand  from  them  a  crown  or  a 
tomb."  If  there  were  a  serious  intention 
of  supporting  these  unfortunate  Princes, 
the  means  of  this  experiment  ought  to 
have  been  afforded  them,  and  that  upon  no 
stinted  scale.  The  error  of  England  through 
all  the  early  part  of  the  war,  was  an  unwil- 
lingness to  proportion  her  efforts  to  the 
importance  of  the  ends  she  had  in  view. 

Looking  upon  the  various  chances  which 
might  have  befriended  the  unparalleled  ex- 
ertions of  the  Vandeans,  considering  the  gen- 
erous, virtuous,  and  disinterested  character 
of  those  primitive  soldiers,  it  is  with  sin- 
cere sorrow  that  we  proceed  to  trace  their 
extermination  by  the  blood-thirsty  ruffians 
of  the  reign  of  terror.  Yet  the  course  of 
Providence,  after  the  lapse  of  time,  is  justi- 
fied even  in  our  weak  and  undiscerning 
eyes.  We  should  indeed  have  read  with 
hearts  throbbing  with  the  just  feelings  of 
gratified  vengeance,  that  La  Charette  or 
La  Roche-Jacquelein  had  succsssfully 
achieved,  at  the  head  of  their  gallant  adher- 
ents, the  road  to  Paris — had  broke  in  upon 
the  Committees  of  Public  Safety  and  Pub- 
lic Security,  like  Thalaba  the  Destroyer 
into  the  Dom-Daniel ;  and  with  the  same 
dreadful  result  to  the  agents  of  the  horrors 
with  which  these  revolutionary  bodies  had 
deluged  France.  But  such  a  reaction,  ac- 
complished solely  for  the  purpose  of  restor- 
ing the  old  despotic  monarchy,  could  not 
have  brought  peace  to  France  or  to  Europe; 
na)',  could  only  have  laid  a  foundation  for 
farther  and  more  lasting  quarrels.  The 
flame  of  liberty  had  been  too  widely  spread 
in  France  to  be  quenched  even  by  such  a 
triumph  of  royalty  as  we  have  supposed, 
however  pure  the  principles  and  high  the 
spirit  of  the  Vendeans.  It  was  necessary 
that  the  nation  should  experience  both  the 
extremes,  of  furious  license  and  of  stern 
despotism,  to  fix  the  hopes  of  the  varioiu 
contending  parties  upon  a  form  of  govero- 
ment,  in  which  a  limited  power  in  the  mon- 
arch should  be  united  to  the  enjoyment  of 
all  rational  freedom  in  the  subject.  We 
return  to  our  sad  task. 

jVotwithstanding  the  desolating  mode  in 
wliich  the  Republicans  conducted  the  war, 
with  the  avowed  purpose  of  rendering  La 
\'end<^e  uninhabitable,  the  population  seem- 
ed to  increase  in  courage,  and  even  in  num- 
bers, as  their  eituation  became  more  deipa- 


Chap.  XV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


159 


rate.  Renewed  armies  were  sent  into  the 
devoted  district,  and  successively  destroyed 
in  assaults,  skirmishes,  and  ambuscades, 
where  they  were  not  slaughtered  in  general 
actions.  More  than  a  hundred  thousand 
men  were  employed  at  one  time  in  their 
efforts  to  subjugate  this  devoted  province. 
But  this  could  not  last  for  ever ;  and  a 
chance  of  war  upon  the  frontiers,  which 
threatened  reverses  to  the  Convention,  com- 
pensated them  by  furnishing  new  forces, 
aad  of  a  higher  description  in  point  of  char- 
acter and  discipline,  for  the  subjection  of 
La  Vendee. 

This  was  the  surrender  of  the  town  of 
Mentz  to  the  Prussians.  By  the  capitula- 
tion, a  garrison  of  near  fifteen  thousand  ex- 
perienced soldiers,  and  some  officers  of 
considerable  name,  were  debarred  from 
again  bearing  arms  against  the  allies.  These 
troops  were  employed  in  La  V'andee,  where 
the  scale  had  already  begun  to  preponder- 
ate against  the  dauntless  and  persevering 
insurgents.  At  the  first  encounters,  the 
soldiers  of  Mentz,  unacquainted  with  the 
Vendeaa  mode  of  fighting,  sustained  loss, 
and  were  thought  lightly  of  by  the  Royal- 
ists.* This  opinion  of  their  new  adversa- 
ries was  changed,  in  consequence  of  a  de- 
feat near  ChoUet,  more  dreadful  in  its  con- 
eequences  than  any  which  the  Vendeans 
had  yet  received,  and  which  determined 
iheir  generals  to  pass  the  Loire  with  their 
whole  collected  force,  leave  their  beloved 
Bocage  ti>  the  axes  and  brands  of  the  vic- 
tors, and  carry  the  war  into  Bretagne, 
where  they  expected  either  to  be  supported 
by  a  descent  of  the  I'-nclish,  or  by  a  general 
insurrection  of  the  inhabitants. 

In  this  miiitary  emigration  the  Royalists 
were   accompanied   by  their  aged  people, 
their  wives,   and  their  children ;   so   that 
their  melancholy  march  resembled  that  of 
the  Cimbrians  or  Helvetians  of  old,  when, 
abandoning   their  ancient  dwellings,  they 
wandered  forth  to  find  new  settlements  in  a 
more  fertile  land.     They  crossed  the  river 
near  Saint   Florent,  and   the   banks   were 
olackened  with  nearly  a  hundred  thousand 
pilgrims  of  both  sexes,  "and  of  every  age. 
The  broad  river  was  before  them,  and  be- 
hind them  their  burning  cottiges  and  the 
exterminating   sword   of  the  Republicans. 
The  means  of  embarkation  were  few  and  I 
precarious  ;   the  affright  of  the  females  ul-  j 
most  iingovemable  ;   and  such  was  the  tu-  i 
mult  and  terror  of  the  scene,  that,  in  the  j 
words  of  Madame   La  Roche-Jacquelein, 
the  awe-struck  spectators  could  only  com-  I 
pare  it  to  the  day  of  judgment.     Without  , 
food,  directions,  or  organization  of  any  kind  i 
— without  the  show  of  an  army,  saving  in  i 
the  front  and  rear  of  the  column,  the  centre  ! 
consisting    of   their    defenceless    families  ! 
marching  together  in  a  mass — these  indom-  I 
itable  peasants  defeated  a  Republican  army  ' 
under  the  walls  of  Laval.  ' 

The  garrison  of  Mentz,  whose  arrival  in  ; 
La  Vendee  had  been  so  fatal  to  the   insur-  \ 

*  They  punned  on  the  word  Mayence  (Mentz,) 
and  aaid,  the  newly  arrived  Republicans  were  sol- 
diers of /uycnce  (potter's  ware,)  which  could  Qjt 
•odure  the  fire. 


gents,  and  who  had  pursued  them  in  a  state 
of  rout,  as  they  thought,  out  of  their  own 
country,  across  the  Loire,  were  almost  ex- 
terminated in  this  most  unexpected  defeat. 
An  unsuccessful  attack  upon  Granville 
more  than  counterbalanced  this  advantage, 
and  although  the  Vendeans  afterwards  ob- 
tained a  brilliant  victory  at  Dol,  it  was  the 
last  success  of  what  was  termed  the  Great 
Army  of  La  Vendee,  and  which  well  de- 
served that  title,  on  more  accounts  than  in 
its  more  ordinary  sense.  They  had  now 
lost,  by  the  chances  of  war,  most  of  their 
best  chiefs  ;  and  misfortunes,  and  the  exas- 
perating feelings  attending  them,  had  intro- 
duced disunion,  which  had  been  so  long  a 
stranger  to  their  singular  association.  Cha- 
rette  was  reflected  upon  as  being  little  will- 
ing to  aid  La  Roche-Jacquelein  ;  and  Stoflet 
seems  to  have  set  up  an  independent  stand- 
ard. The  insurgents  were  defeated  at  Mons, 
where  of  three  Republican  Generals  of 
name,  Westerman,  Marceau,  and  Kleber, 
the  first  disgraced  himself  by  savage  cruel- 
ty, and  the  other  two  gained  honour  by  their 
clemency.  Fifteen  thousand  male  and  fe- 
male natives  of  La  Vendee  perished  in  the 
battle  and  the  massacre  which  ensued. 

But  tliough  La  Vendee,  after  this  decisive 
loss,  which  included  some  of  her  best 
troops  and  bravest  generals,  could  hardlj 
be  said  to  exist.  La  Chstrette  continued, 
witli  indefatigable  diligence,  and  undaunted 
courage,  to  sustain  the  insurrection  of  Low- 
er Poitou  and  Bretagne.  He  was  followed 
by  a  division  of  peasants  from  the  Marais, 
whose  activity  in  marshv  grounds  gave 
them  similar  advantaiges  to  those  possessed 
by  the  Vendeans  in  their  woodlands.  He 
was  followed  also  by  the  inhabitants  of 
^lorbiham,  called,  from  their  adherence  to 
royalism,  the  Little  La  Vendee.  He  was 
the  leader,  besides,  of  many  of  the  bands 
called  Chouans,  a  name  of  doubtful  origin 
given  to  the  insurgents  of  Bretagne,  but 
which  their  courage  has  rendered  celebrat- 
ed.* La  Charette  himself,  who,  with  these 
and  other  forces,  continued  to  sustain  the 
standard  of  royalty  in  Bretagne  and  Poitou, 
was  one  of  those  extraordinary  characters, 
made  to  shine  amidst  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers. As  prudent  and  cautious  as  he  was 
courageous  and  adventurous,  he  was  at  the 
same  time  so  alert  and  expeditious  in  hia 
motions,  that  he  usually  appeared  at  the 
time  and  place  where  his  presence  waa 
least  expected  and  most  formidable.  A  Re- 
publican officer,  who  had  just  taken  pos- 
session <-f  a  village,  and  was  speaking  of 
the  Royalist  leader  as  of  a  person  at  twenty 
lea;jues'  distance,  said  publicly, — "  I  should 
like  to  see  this  famous  Cliarette." — "There 
he  is,"  said  a  woman,  pointing  with  her 
finger.  In  fact,  he  was  at  that  moment  in 
the  act  of  charging  the  Piepublican  troops, 
who  were  all  either  slam  or  made  prisoners. 

After  the  fall  of  Robespierre,  the  Con 
vention   made  offers  of  pacification  to  La 

*  Some  derived  it  from  Chat-Iiuant,  as  if  the  in- 
surgents, like  owls,  appeared  chiefly  at  ni^ht — 
others  traced  it  to  Cfiouin,  the  name  of  two  broth- 
ers, said  to  have  beeo  the  earliest  leaders  of  tto 
i  Breton  insurgents.. 


160 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV 


Charette,  which  were  adjusted  betwixt  the 
Vendean  chief  and  General  Canclaux,  the 
heroic  defender  of  Nantes.  The  articles 
of  treaty  were  subscribed  in  that  place, 
which  La  L-'harette  entered  at  the  head  of 
his  military  staff,  with  his  long  white  plume 
■treaming  in  the  wind.  He  heard  with 
coldness  shouts  of  welcome  from  a  city, 
to  which  his  name  had  been  long  a  terror  ; 
and  there  was  a  gloom  on  his  brow  as  he 
signed  his  name  to  the  articles  agreed  up- 
on. He  certainly  suspected  the  faith  of 
those  with  whom  he  transacted,  and  they 
did  not  by  any  means  confide  in  his.  An 
armistice  was  agreed  on  until  the  Conven- 
tion should  ratify  the  pacification.  But  this 
never  took  place.  Mutual  complaints  and 
recriminations  followed,  and  the  soldiers 
of  La  Charette  and  of  the  Republic  began 
once  more  to  make  a  petty  war  on  each 
other. 

Meantime,  that  party  in  the  British  cabi- 
net which  declared  for  a  descent  on  France, 
in  name  and  on  behalf  of  the  successor  to 
the  crown,  had  obtained  the  acquiescence 
of  their  colleagues  in  an  experiment  of 
this  nature  ;  but  unhappily  it  had  been  post- 
poned until  its  success  had  become  impos- 
eible.  The  force,  too,  which  composed  this 
experimental  operation,  was  injudiciously 
selected.  A  certain  proportion  consisted 
of  emigrants,  in  whom  the  highest  confi- 
dence might  be  with  justice  reposed;  but 
about  two  battalions  of  this  invading  expe- 
dition were  vagrant  foreigners  of  various 
descriptions,  many  or  most  of  them  enlist- 
ed from  among  the  prisoners  of  war,  who 
readily  took  any  engagement  to  get  out  of 
captivity,  with  the  mental  resolution  of 
breaking  it  the  first  opportunity.  Besides 
these  imprudences,  the  purpose  and  time 
of  executing  a  project,  which,  to  be  suc- 
cessful, should  have  been  secret  and  sud- 
den, were  generally  known  in  France  and 
England  before  the  expedition  weighed  an- 
chor. 

The  event,  as  is  universally  known,  was 
most  disastrous  :  The  mercenaries  deserted 
to  the  Republicans  as  soon  as  they  got 
ashore  ;  and  the  unfortunate  emigrants,  who 
became  prisoners  in  great  numbers,  were 
condemned  and  executed  without  mercy. 
The  ammunition  and  muskets,  of  which 
a  quantity  had  been  landed,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy  ;  and  what  was  worse, 
England  did  not,  among  other  lighter  loss- 
es, entirely  save  her  honour.  She  was  se- 
verely censured  as  giving  up  her  allies  to 
destruction,  becaus^e  she  had  yielded  to  the 
wishes  which  enthusiastic  and  courageous 
men  had  elevated  into  hope. 

Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  difficult, 
than  to  state  the  just  (extent  of  support 
which  can  prudently  be  extended  by  one 
nation  to  a  civil  faction  in  the  bosom  of  an- 
other. Indeed,  nothing  short  of  success — 
absolute  success — will  prove  the  justifica- 
tion of  such  enterprises  in  the  eyes  of  some, 
who  will  allege,  in  the  event  of  failure, 
that  men  have  been  enticed  into  perils,  in 
which  they  have  not  been  adequately  sup- 
ported ;  or  of  others,  who  will  condemn  I 
wich  measures  as  squandering  the  public  I 


resources,  in  enterprises  which  ought  not 
to  have  been  encouraged  at  all.  But  in 
fair  judgment,  the  expedition  of  Quiberon 
ought  not  to  be  summarily  condemned.  It 
was  neither  inadequate,  nor,  excepting  as 
to  the  description  of  some  of  the  force* 
employed,  ill  calculated  for  the  service  pro- 
posed. Had  such  reinforcements  and  sup- 
plies arrived  while  the  Royalists  were  at- 
tacking Nantes  or  Grenoble,  or  while  they 
yet  held  the  island  of  Noirmoutier,  the  good 
consequences  to  the  royal  cause  might  have 
been  incalculable.  But  the  expedition  wa» 
ill-timed,  and  that  was  m  a  great  measure 
owing  to  those  unfortunate  gentlemen  en- 
gaged, who,  impatient  of  inactivity,  and 
sanguine  by  character,  urged  the  British 
ministry,  or  rather  Mr  Windham,  to  au- 
thorise the  experiment,  without  fully  con- 
sidering more  than  their  own  zeal  and  cour- 
age. We  cannot,  however,  go  so  far  as  to 
say,  that  their  impatience  relieved  minis- 
ters from  the  responsibility  attached  to  the 
indifferent  intelligence  on  which  they  acU 
ed.  There  could  be  no  difiiculty  in  get- 
ting full  information  on  the  state  of  Bre- 
tagiie  by  way  of  Jersey  ;  and  they  ought  to 
have  known  that  there  was  a  strong  French 
force  collected  from  various  garrisons,  for 
the  purpose  of  guarding  against  a  descent  at 
Quiberon.* 

.\fter  this  unfortunate  affair,  and  some  sub- 
sequent vain  attempts  to  throw  in  supplies 
on  the  part  of  the  I'.nglish,  La  Charette  still 
continued  in  open  war.  But  Hoche.an  of- 
ficer of  high  reputation,  was  now  sent  into 
the  disturbed  districts,  with  a  larger  army 
than  had  yet  been  employed  against  them. 
He  was  thus  enabled  to  form  moveable  col- 
umns, which  acted  in  concert,  supporting 
each  other  when  unsuccessful,  or  complet- 
ing each  other's  victory  when  such  was  ob- 
tained. La  Charette,  after  his  band  was  al- 
most entirely  destroyed,  was  himself  made 
prisoner.  Being  condemned  to  be  shot,  he 
refused  to  have  his  eyes  covered,  and  died 
as  courageoufly  as  he  had  lived.  With  him 
and  Stoflet.  who  suffered  a  similar  fate,  the 
war  of  La  Vendee  terminated. 

To  trace  this  remarkable  civil  war,  even 
so  slightly  as  we  have  attempted  the  task, 
has  carried  us  beyond  the  course  of  our 
narrative.  It  broke  out  in  the  beginning  of 
March  1793,  and  La  Charette's  execution, 
by  which  it  was  closed,  took  place  at  Nan- 
tes, 29th  March  1796.  The  astonishing 
part  of  the  matter  is,  that  so  great  a  confla- 
gration should  not  have  extended  itself  be- 
yond a  certain  limited  district,  while  within 


*  We  can  and  ought  to  make  great  allowan- 
ces for  national  feeling  ;  yet  it  is  a  little  hard  to 
find  a  well-informed  historian,  like  Monsieur  La- 
cretclle,  gravely  insinuate  that  England  threw  tb« 
unfortunate  Royalists  on  the  coast  of  duiboron  to 
escape  the  future  burthen  of  maintaining  them. 
Her  liberality  towards  the  emigrants,  honourable 
and  meritorious  to  the  country,  was  entirely 
gratuitous.  She  might  have  withdrawn  when  sba 
pleased  a  bounty  conferred  by  her  benevolence j 
and  it  is  rather  too  hard  to  be  supposed  capable  or 
meditating  their  murder,  merely  to  save  the  ex- 
pense of  supporting  them.  The  expedition  was  • 
blunder,  but  one  in  which  the  unfortunate  sufferer* 
contributed  to  mLiload  tho  British  goveromaoU 


Chap  XV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


161 


that  region  it  raged  with  such  fury,  that  for 
a  length  of  lime  no  meaas  of  eitinguishing 
it  could  be  discovered. 


We  now  return  to  the  state  of  France  in 
■pring  1793,  when  the  Jacobins,  who  had 
possessed  themselves  of  the  supreme  pow- 
er of  the  Republic,  found  that  they  had  to 
contend,  not  only  with  the  Allied  Forces  on 
two  frontiers  of  France,  and  with  the  Roy- 
alists in  the  west,  but  also  with  moro  than 
one  of  the  great  commercial  towns,  which, 
with  less  inclination  to  the  monarchical 
cause,  than  a  general  terror  of  revolutionary 
measures,  prepared  for  resistance  after  the 
proscription  of  the  Girondists  upon  the  31st 
of  May. 

Bourdeaux,  Marseilles,  Toulon,  and  Ly- 
ons, had  declared  themselves  against  the 
Jacobin  supremacy.  Rich  from  commerce 
and  their  maritime  situation,  and,  in  the 
case  of  Lyons,  from  their  command  of  in- 
ternal navigation,  the  wealthy  merchants 
and  manufacturers  of  those  cities  foresaw 
the  total  insecurity  of  property,  and  in  con- 
Bequence  their  own  ruin,  in  the  system  of 
arbitrary  spoliation  and  murder  upon  which 
the  government  of  the  Jacobins  was  found- 
ed. But  property,  for  which  they  were  so- 
licitous, though,  if  its  natural  force  is  used 
in  time,  the  most  powerful  barrier  to  with- 
stand revolution,  becomes,  after  a  certain 
period  of  delay,  its  most  helpless  victim. 
If  the  rich  are  in  due  season  liberal  of  their 
means,  they  have  the  power  of  enlisting  in 
their  cause,  and  as  adherents,  those  among 
the  lower  orders,  who,  if  they  see  their  su- 
periors dejected  and  despairing,  will  be 
tempted  to  consider  them  as  objects  of 
plunder.  But  this  must  be  done  early,  or 
those  who  might  be  made  the  most  active 
defenders  of  property  will  join  with  such  as 
are  prepared  to  make  a  prey  of  it. 

We  have  already  seen  that  Bourdeaux,  in 
which  the  Brissotines  or  Girondists  had  ven- 
tured to  hope  for  a  zeal  purely  republican,  at 
once  adverse  to  Royalty  and  to  Jacobin  dom- 
ination, had  effectually  disappointed  their 
ejcpectations,  and  succumbed  with  little 
•triiggle  under  the  ferocious  victors. 

Marseilles  sliowed  at  once  her  good  will 
and  her  impotency  of  means.  The  utmost 
exertions  of  that  wealthy  city,  whose  revo- 
lutionary band  had  contributed  so  much  to 
the  downfall  of  the  monarchy  in  the  at- 
tack on  the  Tuilleries,  were  able  to  equip 
only  a  small  and  doubtful  army  of  about 
8000  men,  who  were  despatched  to  the  re- 
lief of  Lyons.  This  inconsiderable  army 
threw  themselves  into  Avignon,  and  were 
defeated  with  the  utmost  ease,  by  the  re- 
publican general  Cartaux,  despicable  as  a 
military  officer,  and  whose  forces  would 
not  have  stood  a  single  egaillement  of  the 
Vendean  sharp-shooters.  Marseilles  re- 
ceived the  victors,  and  bowed  her  head  to 
the  subsequent  horrors  which  it  pleased 
Cartaux,  with  two  formidable  Jacobins, 
Barras  and  Ferron.  to  inflict  on  that  flour- 
ishing city.  The  place  underwent  the  usu- 
al terrors  of  Jacobin  purification,  and  was 
for  a  time  aflectedly  called,  "  the  nameless 
commune." 


Lyons  made  a  more  honourable  stani 
That  noble  city  had  been  subjected  for 
some  time  to  the  domination  of  Chalier, 
one  of  the  most  ferocious,  and  at  the  same 
time  one  of  the  most  extravagantly  absurd, 
of  the  Jacobins.  He  was  at  the  head  of  a 
formidable  club,  which  was  worthy  of  being 
affiliated  with  the  mother  society,  and  am- 
bitious of  treading  in  its  footsteps  ;  and  h» 
was  supported  by  a  garrison  of  two  revolu- 
tionary regiments,  besides  a  numerous  ar- 
tillery, and  a  large  addition  of  volunteers, 
amounting  in  all  to  about  ten  thousand  men, 
forming  what  was  called  a  revolutionary  ai- 
my.  This  Chalier  was  an  apostate  priest,  an 
atheist,  and  a  thorough-paced  pupil  in  tho 
school  of  terror.  He  had  been  created 
Procureur  of  the  Community,  and  had  im- 
posed on  the  wealthy  citizens  a  tax,  which 
was  raised  from  six  to  thirty  milliona  of 
livres.  But  blood  as  well  as  gold  was  hi* 
object.  The  massacre  of  a  few  priests 
and  aristocrats  confined  in  the  fortress  of 
Pierre-Seize,  was  a  pitiful  sacrifice  ;  and 
Chalier,  ambitious  of  deeds  more  decisive, 
caused  a  general  arrest  of  an  hundred  prin- 
cipal citizens,  whom  he  destined  as  a  hec- 
atomb more  worthy  of  the  demon  whom  ho 
served. 

This  sacrifice  was  prevented  by  the 
courage  of  the  Lyonnois  ;  a  courage  which, 
if  assumed  by  the  Parisians,  might  have 
prevented  most  of  the  horrors  which  dis- 
graced the  Revolution.  The  meditated 
slaughter  was  already  announced  by  Cha- 
lier lo  the  Jacobin  Club.  "  Three  hundred 
heads,"  he  said,  "  are  marked  for  slaughter. 
Let  us  lose  no  time  in  seizing  the  mem- 
bers of  the  departmental  office-bearers,  the 
presidents  and  secretaries  of  the  sections, 
all  the  local  authorities  who  obstruct  our 
revolutionary  measures.  Let  us  make  o»e 
faggot  of  the  whole,  and  deliver  them  at 
once  to  the  guillotine." 

But  ere  he  could  execute  his  threat,  ter- 
ror was  awakened  into  the  courage  of  de- 
spair. The  citizens  rose  in  arms  and  be- 
sieged the  Hotel  de  Viile,  in  which  Chalier, 
with  his  revolutionary  troops,  made  a  des- 
perate, and  for  some  time  a  successful,  yet 
ultimately  a  vain  defence.*  But  the  Lyon- 
nois unhappily  knew  not  how  to  avail  them> 
selves  of  their  triumph.  They  were  notsoffi- 
ciently  aware  of  the  nature  of  the  vengeance 
which  they  had  provoked,  or  of  the  neces- 
sity of  supporting  the  bold  step  which  they 
had  taken,  by  measures  which  precluded  a 
compromise.  Their  resistance  to  the  vio- 
lence and  atrocity  of  the  Jacobins  had  no 
political  character,  any  more  than  that  of- 
fered by  the  traveller  against  robbers  whe 
threaten  him  with  plunder  and  murder. 
/They  were  not  sufficiently  aware,  that, 
Tiaving  done  so  mucii,  they  must  necessari- 
ly do  more.  They  ought,  by  declaring 
themselves  Royalists,  to  have  endeavoured 
to  nrevail  on  the  troops  of  Savoy,  if  not  on 
the  Swiss,  (who  had  embraced  a  species  of 
neutrality,  which,  after  the  10th  of  August, 
was  dishonourable  to  their  ancient  reputa- 
tion,) to  send  in  all  haste  soldiery  to  the 


♦  29th  May,  1793. 


162 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XV. 


assistance  of  a  city  which  had  no  fortifica- 
tions or  regular  troops  to  defend  it ;  but 
which  possessed,  nevertheless,  treasures  to 
pay  their  auxiliaries,  and  strong  hands  and 
able  officers  to  avail  themselves  of  the  lo- 
calities of  their  situation,  which,  when  well 
defended,  are  sometimes  as  formidable  as 
the  regular  protection  erected  by  scientific 
engineers. 

The  people  of  Lyons  vainly  endeavoured 
to  establish  a  revolutionary  character  for 
themselves,  upon  the  system  of  the  Gi- 
ronde  ;  two  of  whose  proscribed  deputies 
tried  to  draw  them  over  to  their  unpopular 
and  hopeless  cause  :  and  they  inconsist- 
ently sought  protection  by  affecting  a  re- 
publican zeal,  even  while  resisting  the  de- 
crees, and  defeating  the  troops  of  the  Jac- 
obins. There  were  undoubtedly  many  of 
Royalist  principles  among  the  insurgents, 
and  some  of  their  leaders  were  decidedly 
such  ;  but  these  were  not  numerous  or  in- 
fluential enough  to  establish  the  true  prin- 
ciple of  open  resistance,  and  the  ultimate 
chance  of  rescue,  by  a  bold  proclamation 
of  the  King's  interest.  They  still  appealed 
to  the  Contention  as  their  legitimate  sove- 
reign, in  whose  eyes  they  endeavoured  to 
vindicate  themselves,  and  at  the  same  time 
tried  to  secure  the  interest  of  two  Jacobin 
deputies,  who  had  countenanced  every  vio- 
lence attempted  by  Chalier,  that  they  might 
prevail  upon  them  to  represent  their  con- 
duct favourably.  Of  course  they  had  enough 
of  promises  to  this  effect,  while  Messrs. 
Guathier  and  Nioche,  the  deputies  in  ques- 
tion, remained  in  their  power;  promises, 
doubtless,  the  more  readily  given,  that  the 
Lyonnois,  though  desirous  to  conciliate  the 
favour  of  the  Convention,  did  not  hesitate 
in  proceeding  to  the  punishment  of  the 
Jacobin  Chalier.  He  was  condemned  and 
executed,  along  with  one  of  his  principal 
associates,  termed  Reard. 

To  defend  these  vigorous  proceedings, 
the  unhappy  insurgents  placed  themselves 
under  the  interim  government  of  a  council, 
who,  still  desirous  to  temporize  and  main- 
tain the  Revolutionary  character,  termed 
themselves  "  The  Popular  and  Republican 
Commission  of  Public  i"afety  of  the  De- 
partment of  the  Rhine  and  Loire  ;"  a  title 
which,  while  it  excited  no  popular  enthu- 
siasm, and  attracted  no  foreign  aid,  no  ways 
soothed,  but  rather  exasperated,  the  resent- 
ment of  the  Convention,  now  under  the 
absolute  domination  of  the  Jacobins,  by 
whom  everything  short  of  complete  frater- 
nization was  accounted  presumptuous  defi- 
ance. Those  who  were  not  with  them,  it 
was  their  policy  to  hold  as  their  most  de- 
cided enemies. 

The  Lyonnois  had  indeed  letters  of  en- 
couragement, and  promised  concurrence, 
from  several  departments  ;  but  no  effectual 
snpport  was  ever  directed  towards  their 
city,  excepting  the  petty  reinforcement 
from  Marseilles,  which  we  have  seen  was 
intercepted  and  dispersed  with  little  trouble 
by  the  Jacobin  General  Cartaux. 

Lyons  had  expected  to  become  the  pa- 
troness and  focus  of  an  Anti-jacobin  league, 
formed  by  the  great  commercial  towns, 


against  Paris  and  the  predominant  part  of 
the  Convention.  She  found  herself  isolat- 
ed and  unsupported,  and  left  to  oppose  her 
own  proper  forces  and  means  of  defence, 
to  an  army  of  sixty  thousand  men,  and  to 
the  numerous  Jacobins  contained  within 
her  own  walls.  About  the  end  of  July,  af- 
ter a  lapse  of  an  interval  of » two  months,  a 
regular  blockade  was  formed  around  the 
city,  and  in  the  first  week  of  August  hostil- 
ities took  place.  The  besieging  army  was 
directed  in  its  military  character  by  General 
Kellerman,  who,  with  other  distinguished 
soldiers,  had  now  begun  to  hold  an  emi- 
nent rank  in  the  Republican  armies.  But 
for  the  purpose  of  executing  the  vengeance 
for  which  they  thirsted,  the  Jacobins  relied 
chiefly  on  the  exertions  of  the  deputies 
they  had  sent  along  with  the  commander, 
and  especially  of  the  repreisentative  Du- 
bois Crance,  a  man  whose  sole  merit  ap- 
pears to  have  been  his  frantic  Jacobinism. 
General  Precy,  formerly  an  officer  in  the 
royal  service,  undertook  the  almost  hope- 
less task  of  defence,  and  by  forming  re- 
doubts on  the  most  commanding  situations 
around  the  town,  commenced  a  resistance 
against  the  immensely  superior  force  of 
the  besiegers,  which  was  honourable  if  it 
could  have  been  useful.  The  Lyonnois,  at 
the  same  time,  still  endeavoured  to  make 
fair  weather  with  the  besieging  army,  by 
representing  themselves  as  firm  Republic- 
ans. They  celebrated  as  a  public  festival 
the  anniversary  of  the  10th  of  August,  while 
Dubois  Crance,  to  show  the  credit  he  gave 
them  for  their  republican  zeal,  fixed  the 
same  day  for  commencing  his  fire  on  the 
place,  and  caused  the  first  gun  to  be  dis- 
charged by  his  own  concubine,  a  female 
born  in  Lyons.  Bombs  and  red-hot  bulleta 
were  next  resorted  to,  against  the  second 
city  of  the  French  empire  ;  while  the  be- 
sieged sustained  the  attack  with  a  constan- 
cy, and  on  many  parts  repelled  it  with  a 
courage,  highly  honourable  to  their  char- 
acter. 

But  their  fate  was  determined.  The 
deputies  announced  to  the  Convention  their 
purpose  of  pouring  their  instruments  of 
havoc  on  every  quarter  of  the  town  at  once, 
and  when  it  was  on  fire  in  several  places 
to  attempt  a  general  storm.  "  The  city," 
they  said,  "  must  surrender,  or  there  shall 
not  remain  one  stone  upon  another,  and  ' 
this  we  hope  to  accomplish  in  spite  of  the 
suggestions  of  false  compassion.  Do  not 
then  be  surprised  when  you  shall  hear  that 
Lyons  exists  no  longer."  The  fury  of  the 
attack  threatened  to  make  good  these  prom- 
ises. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Piedmontese  troojw 
made  a  show  of  descending  from  their 
mountains  to  the  succour  of  the  city,  and 
it  is  probable  their  interference  would  have 
given  a  character  of  royalism  to  the  insur- 
rection. But  the  incursion  of  the  Pied- 
montese and  Sardinians  was  speedily  re- 
pelled by  the  skill  of  Kellerman,  and  pro- 
duced no  effect  in  favour  of  the  city  of  Ly- 
ons, except  that  of  supporting  for  a  time 
the  courage  of  its  defenders. 

The  sufferings  of  the  citizens  became  In 


Chap.  XV.] 


LIFE  CF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


163 


tolerable.  Several  quarters  of  the  city 
were  on  fire  at  the  same  time,  immense 
magazines  were  burnt  to  the  ground,  and  a 
loss  incurred,  during  two  nights'  bombard- 
ment, which  was  calculated  at  two  hundred 
milliojs  of  livres.  A  black  flag  was  hoist- 
ed by  the  besieged  on  the  Great  Hospital, 
as  a  sign  that  the  fire  of  the  assailants  should 
not  be  directed  on  that  asylum  of  hopeless 
misery.  The  signal  seemed  only  to  draw 
the  Republican  bombs  to  the  spot  where 
they  could  create  the  most  frightful  dis- 
tress, and  outrage  in  the  highest  degree  the 
feelings  of  humanity.  The  devastations  ot^ 
famine  were  soon  added  to  those  of  slaugh- 
ter ;  and  after  two  months  of  such  horrors 
had  been  sustained,  it  became  obvious  that 
farther  resistance  was  impossible. 

The  military  commandant  of  Lyons,  Pre- 
cy,  resolved  upon  a  sally,  at  the  head  of 
the  active  part  of  the  garrison,  hoping  that, 
by  cutting  his  way  through  the  besiegers, 
he  might  save  the  lives  of  many  of  those 
who  followed  him  in  the  desperate  at- 
tempt and  gain  the  neutral  territory  of 
Switzerland,  while  the  absence  of  those 
who  had  been  actual  combatants  during  the 
siege,  might,  in  some  degree,  incline  the 
Convention  to  lenient  measures  towards  the 
more  helpless  part  of  the  inhabitants.  A 
column  of  about  two  thousand  men  made 
this  desperate  attempt.  But  pursued  by 
the  Republicans,  and  attacked  on  every 
side  by  the  peasants,  to  whom  they  had 
been  represented  in  the  most  odious  col- 
ours by  the  Jacobin  deputies,  and  who  were 
stimulated  besides  by  the  hope  of  plunder, 
■carcely  fifty  of  the  devoted  body  reached, 
with  their  leader,  the  protecting  soil  of 
Switzerland.  Lyons  reluctantly  opened  her 
gates  after  the  departure  of  her  best  and 
bravest.  The  rest  may  be  described  in  the 
words  of  Horace, — 

*'  Barbaras  heu  cineres  insistet  victor,  et  urbem, 
■  dissipabit  insolens." 


The  paralytic  Couthon,  with  Collot 
D'Herbois,  and  other  deputies,  were  sent  to 
Lyons  by  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety, 
to  execute  the  vengeance  which  the  Jaco- 
bins demanded  ;  while  Dubois  Crance  was 
recalled,  for  having  put,  it  was  thought, 
less  energy  in  his  proceedings  than  the 
prosecution  of  the  siege  required.  Collot 
D'Herbois  had  a  personal  motive  of  a  sin- 
gular nature  for  delighting  in  the  task  in- 
trusted to  him  and  his  colleagues.  In  his 
capacity  of  a  playactor,  he  had  been  hissed 
from  the  stage  at  Lyons,  and  the  door  to 
revenge  was  now  open.  The  instructions 
of  this  committee  enjoined  them  to  take 
the  most  satisfactory  revenge  for  the  death 
of  Chalier,  and  the  insurrection  of  Lyons, 
not  merely  on  the  citizens,  but  on  the  town 
itself.  The  principal  streets  and  buildings 
were  to  be  levelled  with  the  ground,  and  a 
monument  erected  where  they  stood,  was 
to  record  the  cause  ; — "  Lyons  rebelled 
against  the  Republic — Lyons  is  no  more." 
Such  fragments  of  the  town  as  might  be  per- 
mitted to  remain,  were  to  bear  the  name  of 
Ville  Affranchie.    It  will  scarce  be  believ- 


ed, that  a  doom  like  that  which  might  have 
passed  the  lips  of  some  Eastern  despot,  in 
all  the  frantic  madness  of  arbitrary  power 
and  utter  ignorance,  could  have  been  seri- 
ously pronounced,  and  as  seriously  enforc- 
ed, in  one  of  the  most  civilized  nations  in 
Europe  ;  and  that  in  the  present  enlighten 
ed  age,  men  who  pretended  to  wisdom  and 
philosophy,  should  have  considered  the  la- 
bours of  the  architect  as  a  proper  subject 
of  punishment.  So  it  was,  however ;  and 
to  give  the  demolition  more  effect,  the  im- 
potent Couthon  was  carried  from  house  to 
house,  devoting  each  to  ruin,  by  striking 
tlie  door  with  a  silver  hammer,  and  pro- 
nouncing these  words — '•  House  of  a  rebel, 
I  condemn  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Law." 
Workmen  followed  in  great  multitudes, 
who  executed  fhe  sentence  by  pulling  the 
house  down  to  the  foundations.  This  wan- 
ton demolition  continued  for  six  months, 
and  is  said  to  have  been  carried  on  at  aa 
expense  equal  to  that  which  the  superb  mil- 
itary hospital,  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  cost 
its  founder,  Louis  XIV.  But  Republican 
vengeance  did  not  waste  itself  exclusively 
upon  senseless  lime  and  stone — it  sought 
out  sentient  victims. 

The  deserved  death  of  Chalier  had  been 
atoned  by  an  apotheosis,  executed  after  Ly- 
ons had  surrendered}  but  Collot  D'Herboia 
declared  that  every  drop  of  that  patriotic 
blood  fell  as  if  scalding  his  own  heart,  and 
that  the  murder  demanded  atonement.  All 
ordinary  process,  and  every  usual  mode  of 
execution,  was  thought  too  tardy  to  avenge 
the  death  of  a  Jacobin  proconsul.  Th© 
judges  of  the  revolutionary  commisBion 
were  worn  out  with  fatigue — th3  arm  of 
the  executioner  was  weary — the  very  steel 
of  the  guillotine  was  blunted.  Collot  d'Her- 
bois  devised  a  more  summary  mode  of 
slaughter.  A  number  of  from  two  to  three 
hundred  victims  at  once  were  dragged  from 
prison  to  the  Place  de  Brotteaux,  one  of 
the  largest  squares  in  Lyons,  and  there  sul^- 
jected  to  a  fire  of  grape  shot.  Etficaciooa 
as  this  mode  of  execution  may  seem,  it  was 
neither  speedy  nor  merciful.  The  suffer- 
ers fell  to  the  ground  like  singed  flies,  mu- 
tilated but  not  slain,  and  imploring  their 
executioners  to  dispatch  them  speedily. 
This  was  done  with  sibres  and  bayonets, 
and  with  such  haste  and  zeal,  that  some  of 
the  jailors  Lnd  assistants  were  slain  along 
with  those  whom  they  had  assisted  in 
dragging  to  death  ;  and  the  mistake  was  not 
discerned,  until,  upon  counting  the  dead 
bodies,  the  military  murderers  found  them 
amount  to  more  than  the  destined  tale. 
The  bodies  of  the  dead  were  thrown  inio 
the  Rhone,  to  carry  news  of  the  Republic- 
an vengeance,  a.* Collot  d'Herbois  express- 
ed himself,  to  Toulon,  then  also  in  a  state 
of  revolt.  But  the  sullen  stream  rejected 
the  office  imposed  on  it,  and  heaved  back 
the  dead  in  heaps  upon  the  banks  ;  and  the 
Committee  of  Representatives  was  compel- 
led at  length  to  allow  the  relics  of  their 
cruelty  to  be  interred,  to  prevent  the  risk 
of  contagion. 

The  people  of  the  south  of  France  have 
always  been  distinguished  by  the  vivacity 


1«4 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XVL 


«f  their  temperament.  As  cruelties  beget 
retaliation,  it  may  be  as  well  here  mention- 
ed, that  upon  the  fall  of  the  Jacobins,  the 
people  of  Lyons  forgot  not  what  indeed 
was  calculated  for  eternal  remembrance, 
and  took  by  violence  a  severe  and  sanguin- 
ary vengeance  on  those  who  had  been  ac- 
cessary to  the  atrocities  of  Couthon  and 
Collot  d'Herbois.  They  rose  on  the  Jaco- 
bins after  the  fall  of  Robespierre,  and  put 
to  death  several  of  them. 

Toulon,  important  by  its  port,  its  arse- 
nals, and  naVcJ-yard,  as  well  as  by  its  forti- 
fications both  on  the  sea  and  land  side,  had 
partaken  deeply  in  the  feelings  which  per- 
vaded Marseilles,  Rourdeaux  and  Lyons. 
But  the  insurgents  of  Toulon  were  deter- 
minedly royalist.  The  place  had  been  for 
Bome  time  subjected  to  the  administration 
of  a  Jacobin  Club,  and  had  seen  the  usual 
quantity  of  murders  and  excesses  with  the 
greater  pain,  that  the  town  contained  many 
naval  officers  and  others  who  had  served 
under  the  King,  and  retained  their  affection 
for  the  royal  cause.  Their  dissatisfaction 
did  not  escape  the  notice  of  men,  to  whom 
every  sullen  look  was  cause  of  suspicion, 
and  the  slightest  cause  of  suspicion  a 
ground  of  death.  The  town  being  threat- 
ened with  a  complete  purification  after  the 
Jacobin  fashion,  the  inhabitants  resolved 
to  anticipate  the  blow. 

At  the  dead  of  night  the  tocsin  was 
Monded  by  the  citizens,  who  dispersed  the 
Jacobin  Club,  seized  on  the  two  represent- 
■tives  who  had  governed  its  proceedings, 


arrested  seven  or  eight  Jacobins,  who  had 
been  most  active  in  the  previous  assassina- 
tions, and,  in  spite  of  some  opposition,  ac- 
tually executed  them.  With  more  decis- 
ion than  the  inhabitants  of  Lyons,  they 
proceeded  to  proclaim  Louis  XVIL  under 
the  constitution  of  1791.  Cartaux  present- 
ly marched  upon  the  insurgent  city,  driving 
before  him  the  Marseillois,  whom,  as  be- 
fore-mentioned, he  had  defeated  upon  their 
march  towards  Lyons.  Alarmed  at  this 
movement,  and  destitute  of  a  garrison 
which  tlisy  could  trust,  the  Toulonnoia 
implored  the  assistance  of  the  English  and 
Spanish  Admirals,  Lord  Hood  and  Langara, 
who  were  cruising  off  their  port.  It  wa« 
instantly  granted,  and  marines  were  sent  on 
shore  for  their  immediate  protection,  while 
efforts  were  made  to  collect  from  the  dif- 
ferent allied  powers  such  a  supply  of  troops, 
as  could  be  immediately  thrown  into  tiie 
place.  But  the  event  of  the  siege  of  Tou- 
lon brings  our  general  historical  sketch  in- 
to connexion  with  the  life  of  that  wonder- 
ful person,  whose  actions  we  have  under- 
taken to  record.  It  was  during  this  siege 
that  the  light  was  first  distinguished,  which 
broadening  more  and  more,  and  blazing 
brighter  and  brighter,  was  at  length  to  fill 
with  its  lustre  the  whole  hemisphere  of 
Europe,  and  was  then  to  set  with  a  rapidity 
equal  to  that  with  which  it  had  arisen. 

Ere,  however,  we  produce  this  first-rate 
actor  upon  the  stage,  we  must  make  the 
reader  still  more  particularly  acquainted 
with  the  spirit  of  the  scene. 


CHAP.  XVI. 

yUwt  of  the  British  Cabinet  regarding  the  French  Revolution.— Extraordinary  Situ- 
ation of  France. — Explanation  of  the  Anomaly  which  it  exhibited. — System  of  Ter^ 
ror.— Committee  of  Public  Safely— Of  Public  Security.— David  the  Painter.— Law 
C^ainst  suspected  Persons.— Revolutionary  Tribunal. — Effects  of  the  Emigration  of 
the  Princes  and  Nobles.— Carises  of  the  Passiveness  of  the  French  People  under  the 
Tyranny  of  the  Jacobins. — Singular  Address  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety. — 
General  Reflections. 


It  has  been  a  maxim  with  great  statesmen, 
that  evil  governments  must  end  by  becom- 
ing their  own  destruction,  according  to  the 
maxim,  Res  nolunt  diu  male  administrari. 
Pitt  himself  was  of  opinion,  that  the  fury 
of  the  French  Revolution  would  wear  itself 
out;  and  that  it  already  presented  so  few 
of  the  advanttiges  and  privileges  of  social 
Oompact,  that  it  seemed  as  if  its  political 
elements  must  either  altogether  dissolve,  or 
assume  a  new  form  more  similar  to  that  on 
■which  all  other  states  and  governments  rest 
their  stability.  It  was  on  this  account  that 
this  great  English  statesntan  declined  as- 
sisting, in  plain  and  open  terms,  the  royal 
cause,  and  desired  to  keep  England  free 
firom  any  pledge  concerning  the  future  state 
of  government  in  France,  aware  of  the 
danger  of  involving  her  in  any  declared 
and  avowed  interference  with  the  right  of 
a  people  to  choose  their  own  system.  How- 
ever anxious  to  prevent  the  revolutionary 
Opinions,  as  well  as  arms,  from  extending 
beyond  their  own  frontier,  it  was  thought  in 


the  British  cabinet,  by  one  large  party,  that 
the  present  frantic  excess  of  republican 
principles  must,  of  itself,  produce  a  reac- 
tion in  favour  of  more  moderate  sentiments. 
Some  steady  system  for  the  protection  of 
life  and  property,  was,  it  was  said,  essential 
to  the  very  existence  of  society.  The 
French  nation  must  assume  such,  and  re- 
nounce the  prosecution  of  those  revolution- 
ary doctrines,  for  the  sake  of  their  own  as 
well  as  of  other  countries.  The  arrangement 
must,  it  was  thought,  take  place,  from  the 
inevitable  course  of  human  affairs,  which, 
however  they  may  fluctuate,  are  uniformly 
determined  at  length  by  the  interest  of  the 
parties  concerned. 

Such  was  the  principle  assumed  by  mSr- 
ny  great  statesmen,  whose  sagacity  was 
unhappily  baffled  by  the  event.  In  fact,  it 
was  calculating  upon  the  actions  and  per- 
sonal exertions  of  a  raving  madman,  as  if 
he  had  been  under  the  regulation  of  his  sen- 
ses, and  acting  upon  principles  of  self-re- 
gard and  self-preservation.     France  con- 


Oxap.  XVI.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


163 


tinued  not  only  to  subsist,  but  to  be  victo- 
rious, without  a  government,  unless  the 
Revolutionary  Committees  and  Jacobin 
Clubs  could  be  accounted  such — for  the 
Convention  was  sunk  into  a  mere  engine  of 
that  party,  and  sanctioned  whatever  they 
proposed ;  without  religion,  which,  as  we 
ehall  see,  they  formerly  abolished;  with- 
out municipal  laws  or  rights,  except  that 
any  one  of  the  ruling  party  might  do  what 
mischief  he  would,  while  citizens,  less  dis- 
tinguished for  patriotism,  were  subjected, 
for  any  cause,  or  no  cause,  to  loss  of  liber- 
ty, property,  and  life  itself;  without  milita- 
ry discipline,  for  officers  might  be  dragged 
from  their  regiments,  and  generals  from 
their  armies,  on  the  information  of  their 
own  soldiers ;  without  revenues  of  state, 
for  the  depression  of  the  assignats  was  ex- 
treme ;  without  laws,  for  there  were  no  or- 
dinary tribunals  left  to  appeal  to ;  without 
colonies,  ships,  manufactories,  or  com- 
merce ;  without  fine  arts,  any  more  than 
those  which  were  useful ; — In  short,  France 
continued  to  subsist,  and  to  achieve  victo- 
ries, althougli  apparently  forsaken  of  God, 
and  deprived  of  all  the  ordinary  resources 
of  human  wisdom. 

The  whole  system  of  society,  indeed,  ap- 
peared only  to  retain  some  appearances  of 
cohesion  from  mere  habit,  the  same  which 
makes  trained  horses  draw  up  in  something 
like  order,  even  without  their  riders,  if  the 
trumpet  is  sounded.  And  yet  in  foreign 
wars,  notwithstanding  the  deplorable  state 
of  the  interior,  the  Republic  was  not  only 
occasionally,  but  permanently  and  triumph- 
antly victorious.  She  was  like  the  champion 
in  Berni's  romance,  who  was  so  delicately 
sliced  asunder  by  one  of  the  Paladins,  that 
he  went  on  fighting,  and  slew  other  warriors, 
without  discovering  for  a  length  of  time 
that  he  was  himself  killed. 

All  this  extraordinary  energy,  was,  in 
one  word,  the  efiect  of  terror.  Death — 
a  grave — are  sounds  which  awaken  the 
strongest  efforts  in  those  whom  they  men- 
ace. There  was  never  anywhere,  save  in 
Franco  during  this  melancholy  period,  so 
awful  a  comment  on  the  expression  of  scrip- 
ture. "  All  that  a  man  hath  he  will  give  for 
his  life,"  Force,  immediate  and  irresistible 
force,  was  the  only  logic  used  by  the  gov- 
ernment— Death  was  the  only  appeal  from 
their  authority — the  guillotine  the  all-suffi- 
cing argument,  which  settled  eacli  debate 
betwixt  them  and  the  governed. 

Was  the  exchequer  low,  the  guillotine 
filled  it  with  the  effects  of  the  wealthy,  who 
were  judged  aristocratical  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  the  extent  of  their  property.  Were 
these  supplies  insufficient,  diminished  as 
they  were  by  peculation  ere  they  reached 
tJie  public  coffers,  the  assignats  remained, 
which  might  be  multiplied  to  any  quantity. 
Did  the  paper  medium  of  circulation  fall  in 
the  market  to  fifty  under  the  hundred,  the 
guillotine  was  r(!ady  to  punish  those  who 
refused  to  exchange  it  at  par.  A  few  ex- 
amples of  such  jobbers  in  the  public  funds 
made  men  glad  to  give  one  hundred  francs 
for  state  money,  which  they  knew  to  be 
worth  no  more  than  fifty.    Was  bread  want- 


ing, com  was  to  be  found  by  the  same  com* 
pendious  means,  and  distributed  among  the 
Parisians,  as  among  the  ancient  citizens  of 
Rome,  at  a  regulated  price.  The  guillo- 
tine was  a  key  to  storehouses,  bams,  aod 
granaries. 

Did  the  army  want  recruits,  the  guillotine 
was  ready  to  exterminate  all  conscript* 
who  should  hesitate  to  march.  On  the  gen- 
erals of  the  Pvcpublican  army,  this  decisive 
argument,  which,  a  priori,  might  have  been 
deemed  less  applicable,  in  all  its  rigour,  to 
them  than  to  others,  was  possessed  of  the 
most  exclusive  authority.  They  were  be- 
headed for  want  of  success,  which  may  seem 
less  different  from  the  common  course  of 
affairs  ;*  but  they  were  also  guillotined 
when  their  successes  were  not  improved 
to  the  full  expectations  of  their  masters.t 
Nay,  they  were  guillotined,  when,  being  too 
successful,  they  were  suspected  of  having 
acquired  over  the  soldiers  who  had  con- 
quered under  them,  an  interest  dangerous 
to  those  who  had  the  command  of  this  all- 
sufficing  reason  of  state. |  Even  mere  me- 
diocrity, and  a  limited  but  regular  discharge 
of  duty,  neither  so  brilliant  as  to  incur  jeal- 
ousy, nor  so  important  as  to  draw  down  cen- 
sure, was  no  protection. §  There  was  no 
rallying  point  against  this  universal,  and 
very  simple  system — of  main  force. 

The  Vendeans,  who  tried  the  open  and 
manly  mode  of  generous  and  direct  resist- 
ance, were,  as  we  have  seen,  finally  de- 
stroyed, leaving  a  name  which  will  live  for 
ages.  The  commercial  towns,  which,  up- 
on a  scale  more  modified,  also  tried  thei,- 
strength  with  the  revolutionary  torrens, 
were  successively  overpowered.  One  can, 
therefore,  be  no  more  surprised  that  the 
rest  of  the  nation  gave  way  to  predomi- 
nant force,  than  we  are  daily  at  seeing  a 
herd  of  strong  and  able-bodied  cattle  driv- 
en to  the  shambles  before  one  or  two  butch- 
ers, and  as  many  bull-dogs.  As  the  victims 
approach  the  slaughter-house,  and  smell 
the  blood  of  those  which  have  suffered  the 
fate  to  which  they  are  destined,  they  may 
be  often  observed  to  hesitate,  start,  roar, 
and  bellow,  and  intimate  their  dread  of  the 
fatal  spot,  and  instinctive  desire  to  escape 
from  it,  but  the  cudgels  of  their  drivers, 
and  the  fangs  of  the  mastiffs,  seldom  fail 
to  compel  them  forward,  slavering,  and 
snorting,  and  trembling,  to  the  destiny 
which  awaits  them. 

The  power  of  exercising  this  tremer»- 


*  The  fate  of  Custine  illustrates  this, — a  gene- 
ral who  had  done  much  for  the  Republic,  and  who, 
when  his  fortune  began  to  fail  him,  excused  him- 
self by  saying,  Fortune  was  a  woman,  and  hia 
hairs  were  growing  grey. 

t  Witness  Houclmrd,  who  performed  the  distio- 
guished  service  of  raising  the  siege  of  Dunkirk, 
and  who,  during  his  trial,  could  be  hardly  made  to 
understand  that  he  was  to  suffer  for  not  carrying 
his  victory  still  farther. 

J  Several  generals  of  reputation  sustained  capi- 
tal punishment,  from  no  other  reason  than  tha 
jealousy  of  the  committees  of  their  influence  with 
the  army. 

§  Luckner,  an  old  German  thick-headed  soldier 
who  was  oi  no  party,  and  scrupulously  obeyed  tha 
command  of  whichever  was  uppermost  at  ParW| 
had  no  better  fate  thaa  others. 


166 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


\Chap.XVI. 


dous  authority  over  a  terrified  nation^  was 
vested  in  few  hands,  and  rested  on  a  Tery 
eimple  basis. 

The  Convention  had,  after  the  fall  of  the 
Girondists,  remained  an  empty  show  of 
what  it  had  once  some  title  to  call  itself, — 
the  Representative  Body  of  the  French 
Nation.  The  members  belonging  to  the 
Plain,  who  had  observed  a  timid  neutrality 
betwixt  The  Mountain  and  the  Girondists, 
if  not  without  talent,  were  without  courage 
to  make  any  opposition  to  the  former  when 
triumphant.  They  crouched  to  their  fate, 
were  glad  to  escape  in  silence,  and  to  yield 
full  passage  to  the  revolutionary  torrent. 
They  consoled  themselves  with  the  usual 
apology  of  weak  minds — that  they  submit- 
ted to  what  they  could  not  prevent ;  and 
their  adversaries,  while  despising  them. 
were  yet  tolerant  of  their  presence,  and 
somewhat  indulgent  to  their  scruples,  be- 
cause, while  tlirse  timid  neutrals  remained 
in  their  ranks,  they  furnished  to  the  eye  at 
least  the  appearance  of  a  full  Senate,  tilled 
the  ranks  of  the  Representative  Body  as  a 
garment  is  stuffed  out  to  the  required  size 
by  buckram,  and  countenanced  by  their 
passive  acquiescence  the  measures  which 
they  most  detested  in  their  hearts.  It  was 
worth  the  while  of  The  Mountain  to  endure 
the  imbecility  of  such  associates,  and  even 
to  permit  occasionally  some  diffident  oppo- 
sition on  their  part,  had  it  only  been  to 
preserve  appearances,  and  afford  a  show 
of  a  free  assembly  debating  on  the  affairs 
of  the  Nation.  Thus,  although  the  name 
of  the  National  Convention  was  generally 
used,  its  deputies,  carefully  selected  from 
the  Jacobin  or  ruling  party,  were  every- 
where acting  in  their  name,  with  all  the  au- 
thority of  Roman  proconsuls  ;  while  two- 
thirds  of  the  body  sate  with  submitted  necks 
and  pad-locked  lips,  unresisting  slaves  to 
the  minor  proportion,  which  again,  under  its 
various  fierce  leaders,  was  beginning  to  wage 
a  civil  war  within  its  own  limited  circle. 

But  the  young  reader,  to  whom  this 
eventful  history  is  a  novelty,  may  ask  in 
what  hands  was  the  real  power  of  the  gov- 
ernment lodged,  of  which  the  Convention, 
considered  as  a  body,  was  thus  effectually 
deprived,  though  permitted  to  retain,  like 
the  apparition  in  Macbeth, — 

" upon  its  baby  brow  the  round 

.\nd  type  of  sovereignty." 

France  had,  indeed,  in  1792,  accepted, 
with  the  usual  solemnities,  anew  constitu- 
tion, which  was  staled  to  rest  on  the  right 
republican  basis,  and  was  alleged  to  aft'ord, 
of  cours"^,  the  most  perfect  and  absolute 
•ecurity  for  liberty  and  equality,  that  the 
nation  could  desire.  But  this  constitution 
was  entirely  superseded  in  practice  by  tlie 
more  compendious  mode  of  povernintr  by 
means  of  a  junto,  selected  out  of  the  Con- 
rention  itself,  without  observing  anv  far- 
ther ceremony.  In  fact,  two  small  Commit- 
tees, vested  with  the  full  powers  of  the 
utate,  exercised  the  powers  of  a  dictator- 
ship, while  the  representatives  of  the  peo- 
ple, like  the  senate  under  the  Roman  em- 


pire, retained  the  form  and  semblance 
of  supreme  power,  might  keep  their  cu- 
rule  chairs,  and  enjoy  the  dignity  of  fasces 
and  lictors,  but  had  in  their  possession  and 
exercise  scarcely  the  independent  powers 
of  an  English  vestry,  or  quarter-sessions. 

The  Committee  of  Public  Safety  dicta- 
ted every  measure  of  the  Convention,  or 
more  frequently  acted  without  deigning  to 
consult  the  Legislative  Body  at  all.  The 
number  of  members  who  exercised  this 
executive  government  fluctuated  betwixt 
ten  and  twelve ;  and,  as  they  were  all  cho- 
sen Jacobins,  and  selected  as  men  capable 
of  going  all  the  lengths  of  their  party,  care 
was  taken,  by  re-elections  from  time  to 
time,  to  render  the  situation  permanent. 
This  body  deliberated  in  secret,  and  had 
the  despotic  right  of  isterfering  with  and  con- 
trolling every  other  authority  in  the  state  ; 
and  before  its  absolute  powers,  and  the  uses 
which  were  made  of  them,  the  Council  of 
Ten  of  the  Venetian  government  might 
be  thought  a  harmless  and  liberal  insti- 
tution. Another  Committee,  w'th  powers 
of  the  same  revolutionary  nature  and  in 
which  the  members  were  also  renewed 
from  time  to  time,  was  that  of  I'ublic  Se- 
curity. It  was  inferior  in  importance  to 
that  of  Public  Safety,  but  was  nevertheless 
as  active  within  its  sphere.  We  regret  to 
record  of  a  man  of  genius,  that  David,  the 
celebrated  painter,*  held  a  seat  in  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Security.  The  fine  arts, 
which  he  studied,  had  not  produced  on  his 
mind  the  softening  and  humanising  effect 
ascribed  to  them.  Frightfully  ugly  in  his 
exterior,  his  mind  seemed  to  correspond 
with  the  harshness  of  his  looks.  "  Let  us 
grind  enough  of  the  Red,"  was  the  profes- 
sional phrase  of  which  he  made  use,  when 
sitting  down  to  the  bloody  work  of  the  day. 

That  these  revolutionary  Committees 
might  have  in  their  hands  a  power  subject 
to  no  legal  defence  or  evasion  on  the  part 
of  the  accused.  Merlin  of  Douay,  a  lawyer, 
it  is  said,  of  eminence,  framed  what  was 
termed  the  law  against  suspected  persons, 
which  was  worded  with  so  much  ingenuity, 
that  not  only  it  enveloped  every  one  who, 
by  birth,  friendship,  habits  of  life,  depend- 
encies, or  other  ties,  was  linked,  however 
distantly,  with  aristocracy,  whether  of 
birth  or  property,  but  also  all  who  had,  in 
the  various  changes  and  phases  of  the  Revo- 
lution, taken  one  step  too  few  in  the  career 
of  the  most  violent  patriotism,  or  had, 
though  it  were  but  for  one  misguided  and 
doubtful  moment,  held  opinions  short  of 
the  most  extravagant  Jacobinism.  This 
crime  of  suspicion  was  of  the  nature  of 
the  cameleon ;  it  derived  its  peculiar 
shade  or  colour  from  the  person  to  whom 
it  attached  for  the  moment.  To  have  been 
a  priest,  or  even  an  assertor  of  the  rights 
and  doctrines  of  Christianity,  was  fatal ;  but 
in  some  instances,  an  overflow  of  atheistical 
blasphemy  was  equally  so.  To  be  silent 
on  public  affairs,  betrayed  a  culpable  indif- 


David  is  generally  allowed  to  have  poasessw! 
great  merit  as  a  draughtsman.  Foreigners  do  not 
admire  his  composition  and  colouring  lo  much  &■ 
bis  countrymea. 


Chap.  XVL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUON.\PARTE. 


167 


ference  ;  but  it  incurred  darker  suspicion 
to  speak  of  them  otherwise  than  in  the 
most  violent  tone  of  the  ruling  party.  By 
a  supplementary  law,  this  sp.Jer's  web  was 
eo  widely  extended,  that  it  appeared  no  fly 
could  be  found  insignificant  enough  to  es- 
cape its  meshes.  Its  general  propositions 
were  of  a  nature  so  vague,  that  it  was  im- 
possible they  could  ever  be  made  subjects 
of  evidence.  Therefore  they  were  assum- 
ed without  proof;  and  at  length,  defini- 
tion of  the  characteristics  of  suspicion 
eeems  to  have  been  altogether  dispensed 
with,  and  all  those  were  suspected  persons 
whom  the  revolutionary  committees  and 
their  asristants  chose  to  hold  as  such. 

The  operation  of  this  law  was  terrible.  A 
suspected  person,  besides  being  thrown 
into  prison,  was  deprived  of  all  his  rigdts, 
his  effects  seaJed  up,  his  property  placed 
under  care  of  the  state,  and  he  himself 
considered  as  civilly  dead.  If  the  unfortu- 
nate object  of  suspicion  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  set  at  libert)-,  it  was  no  security 
whatever  against  his  being  again  arrested  on 
the  day  following.  There  was,  indeed,  no 
end  to  the  various  shades  of  sophistry  which 
brought  almost  every  kind  of  person  under 
this  oppressive  law,  so  ample  was  its  scope, 
4nd  undefined  its  objects. 

That  the  administrators  of  this  law  of 
suspicion  might  not  have  too  much  trouble 
in  seeking  for  victims,  all  householders 
were  obliged  to  publish  on  the  outside  of 
their  doors  a  list  of  the  names  and  descrip- 
tion of  their  inmates.  Domestic  security, 
the  most  precious  of  all  rights  to  a  people 
who  know  what  freedom  really  is,  weis  vio- 
lated on  every  occasion,  even  the  slightest, 
by  domiciliary  visits.  The  number  of  ar- 
rest.; which  took  place  through  France, 
choked  the  prisons  anew  which  had  been 
80  fearfully  emptied  on  the  2d  and  3d  of 
September,  and  is  said  to  have  been  only 
moderately  computed  at  three  hundred 
thousand  sculs,  one-third  of  whom  were 
women.  The  Jacobins,  however,  found  a 
mode  of  jail-delivery  less  summary  than  by 
direct  miissacre  ;  although  ditferingso  little 
from  it  in  every  other  respect,  that  a  victim 
might  have  had  pretty  nearly  the  same 
chance  of  a  fair  trial  before  Maillard  and 
his  men  of  September,  as  from  the  Revolu- 
tionary Tribunal.  It  requires  an  effort  even 
to  write  that  word,  from  the  extremities  of 
guilt  and  horror  which  it  recalls.  But  it  is 
the  lot  of  humanity  to  record  its  own  great- 
est disgraces  ;  and  it  is  a  wholesome  and 
humbling  lesson  to  exhibit  a  just  picture 
of  those  excesses,  of  which,  in  its  unassist- 
ed movements,  and  when  agitated  by  evil 
and  misguiding  passions,  human  nature  can 
be  rendered  capable. 

The  extraordinary  criminal  Court,  better 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  was  first  instituted  upon  the  mo- 
tion of  Danton.  Its  object  was  to  judge  of 
itate  crimes,  plots,  and  attempts  against 
liberty,  or  in  favour  of  royalty,  or  affecting 
the  rights  and  liberty  of  man,  or  in  any  way, 
more  or  less,  tending  to  counteract  tke 
progress  of  the  Revolution,  In  short,  it 
was  the  business  of  this  Court  to  execute 


the  laws,  or  inflict  the  sentence  rather,  up- 
on such  as  had  been  arrested  as  suspected 
persons  ;  and  they  generally  saw  room  to 
punish  in  most  of  the  instances  where  the 
arresting  functionaries  had  seen  ground  for 
imprisonment. 

This  frightful  Court  consisted  of  six  judg- 
es or  public  accusers,  and  two  assistants. 
There  were  twelve  jurymen  ;  but  the  ap- 
pointment of  these  was  a  mere  mockery. 
They  were  official  persons,  who  held  per- 
manent appointments ;  had  a  salary  from 
the  state  ;  and  were  in  no  manner  liable  to 
the  choice  or  challenge  of  the  party  tried. 
It  may  be  sure  the  jurors  and  judges  were 
selected  for  their  Republican  zeal  and 
steady  qualities,  and  were  capable  of  see- 
ing no  obstacle  either  of  law  or  humanity 
in  the  path  of  their  duty.  This  tribunal 
had  the  power  of  deciding  without  proof, — 
or  cutting  short  evidence  when  in  the  prog- 
ress of  being  adduced, — or  stopping  the 
defence  of  the  prisoners  at  pleasure  ;  priv- 
ileges which  tended  greatly  to  shorten  the 
forms  of  court,  and  aid  the  despatch  of 
business. 

The  Revolutionary  Tribunal  was  in  a 
short  time  so  overwhelmed  with  work,  that 
it  became  necessary  to  divide  it  into  four 
sections,  all  armed  with  similar  powers. 
The  quantity  of  blood  which  it  caused  to 
be  shed  was  something  unheard  of  even 
during  the  proscriptions  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire ;  and  there  were  involved  in  its  sen- 
tences crimes  the  most  different,  person- 
ages the  most  opposed,  and  opinions  the 
most  dissimilar.  When  Henry  VTII.  roused 
the  fires  of  Smithfield  both  against  Protest- 
ant and  Papist,  burning  at  the  same  stake 
one  wretch  for  denying  the  King's  suprem- 
acy, and  another  for  disbelieving  the  divine 
presence  in  the  Eucharist,  the  association 
was  consistency  itself  compared  to  the 
scenes  presented  at  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  in  which  Royalist,  Constitution- 
alist, Girondist,  Churchman,  Theophilan- 
thropist,  Noble  and  Roturier,  Prince  and 
Peasant,  both  sexes  and  all  ages,  were  in- 
volved in  one  general  massacre,  and  sent 
to  execution  by  scores  together,  and  on  the 
same  sleOge. 

Supporting  by  their  numerous  associa- 
tions the  government  as  exercised  by  the 
Revolutionary  Committees,  came  the  masa 
of  Jacobrns,  who,  divided  into  a  thousand 
clubs,  emanating  from  that  which  had  its 
meetings  at  Paris,  formed  the  strength  of 
the  party  to  which  they  gave  the  name. 

The  sole  principle  of  the  Jacobinical  in- 
stitutions was  to  excite  against  all  persons 
who  had  anything  to  lose,  the  pjfcsions  of 
those  who  possessed  no  property,  and  were, 
by  birth  and  circumstances,  brutally  igno- 
rant, and  envious  of  the  advantages  enjoyed 
by  the  higher  classes.  All  other  govern- 
ments have  ipade  individual  property  the 
object  of  countenance  and  protection  ;  but 
in  this  strangely  inverted  state  of  things,  it 
seemed  the  object  of  constant  suspicion 
and  persecution,  and  exposed  the  owner  to 
perpetual  danger.  We  have  elsewhere 
said  that  Equality  (unless  in  the  no  less  in- 
telligible than  iacred  8en£e  of  equal  n\^ 


168 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chop.  XVI 


misflion  to  the  law)  is  a  mere  chimera,  i 
which  can  no  more  exist  with  respect  to  j 
property,  than  in  regard  to  mental  qualifi- , 
cations,  or  personal  strength,  beauty,  or  ! 
stature.  Divide  the  whole  property  of  a  I 
country  equally  among  its  inhabitants,  and 
a  week  will  bring  back  the  inequality  which 
you  have  endeavoured  to  remove  ;  nay,  a 
much  shorter  space  will  find  the  industri- 
ous and  saving  richer  than  the  idle  and 
prodigal.  But  in  France,  at  the  period  un- 
der discussion,  this  equality,  in  itself  so  un- 
attainable, had  completely  superseded  even 
the  principle  of  liberty,  as  a  watch-word 
for  exciting  the  people.  It  was  to  sin 
against  this  leading  principle  to  be  possess- 
ed of,  and  more  especially  to  enjoy  osten- 
tatiously, anything  which  was  wanting  to 
your  neighbour.  To  be  richer,  more  ac- 
complished, better  bred,  or  better  taught, 
subjected  you  to  the  law  of  suspicion,  and 
you  were  conducted  instantly  before  a 
Revolutionary  Committee,  where  you  were 
probably  convicted  of  incivism  ;  not  for  in- 
terfering with  the  liberty  and  property  of 
others,  but  for  making  what  use  you  pleased 
of  your  own. 

The  whole  of  the  terrible  mystery  is  in- 
cluded in  two  regulations,  communicated 
by  the  Jacobin  Club  of  Paris  to  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Safety. — I.  That  when,  by 
the  machinations  of  opulent  persons,  se- 
ditions should  arise  in  any  district,  it  should 
be  declared  in  a  state  of  rebellion. — II. 
That  the  Convention  shall  avail  themselves 
of  such  opportunity  to  excite  the  poor  to 
make  war  on  the  rich,  and  to  restore  order 
at  any  price  whatsoever. — This  was  so 
much  understood,  that  one  of  the  persons 
tried  by  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  when 
asked  what  he  had  to  say  in  his  defence, 
answered, — "  I  am  wealthy — what  avails  it 
to  me  to  offer  any  exculpation  when  such 
is  my  offence  1" 

The  Committees  of  Government  distrib- 
uted large  sums  of  money  to  the  Jacobin 
Club  and  its  affiliated  societies,  as  being 
necessary  to  the  propagation  of  sound  po- 
litical principles.  The  clubs  themselves 
took  upon  them  in  every  village  the  exer- 
cise of  the  powers  of  govenwrent ;  and 
while  they  sat  swearing,  drinking,  and 
amoking,  examined  passports,  imprisoned 
citizens,  and  enforced  to  their  full  extent 
the  benefits  of  liberty  and  equality.  "  Death 
or  Fraternity"  was  usually  inscribed  over 
their  place  of  assembly,  which  some  one 
translated, — "  Become  my  brother,  or  I 
will  kill  thee." 

These  clubs  were  composed  of  members 
drawn  from  the  lees  of  the  people,  that 
they  might  not,  in  their  own  persons,  give 
an  example  contradicting  the  equality 
which  it  was  their  business  to  enforce. 
They  were  filled  with  men  without  resour- 
ces or  talents,  but  towards  whom  the  con- 
fidence of  the  deceived  people  was  direct- 
ed, from  the  conviction  that,  because  taken 
from  among  themselves,  they  would  have 
the  interest  of  the  lower  orders  constantly 
in  view.  Their  secretaries,  however,  were 
generally  selected  witli  some  attention  to 
aleiftness  of  capacity ;  for  on  them  depend- 


ed the  terrible  combination  which  extend* 
ed  from  the  mother  society  of  Jacobins  in 
Paris,  down  mto  the  most  remote  villages 
of  the  most  distant  provinces,  in  which  5i» 
same  tyranny  was  maintained  by  the  influ- 
ence of  similar  means.  Thus  rumours 
could  be  either  circulated  or  collected  with 
a  speed  and  uniformity,  which  enabled  a 
whisper  from  Robespierre  to  regulate  the 
sentiments  of  the  Jacobins  at  the  most  dis- 
tant part  of  his  empire  ;  for  his  it  unque»- 
tionably  was,  for  the  space  of  two  dreadful 
years. 

France  had  been  subjected  to  many  evils 
ere  circumstances  had  for  a  time  reduced 
her  to  this  state  of  passive  obedience  to  a 
yoke,  which,  after  all,  when  its  strength 
was  fairly  tried,  proved  as  brittle  as  it  wai 
intolerable.  Those  who  witnessed  the 
tragedies  which  then  occurred,  look  back 
upon  that  period  as  the  delirium  of  a  na- 
tional fever,  filled  with  visions  too  horrible 
and  painful  for  recollection,  and  which,  be- 
ing once  wiped  from  the  mind,  we  recall 
with  difficulty  and  reluctance,  and  dwell 
upon  with  disgust.  A  long  course  of  events, 
tending  each  successively  to  disorganize 
society  more  and  more,  had  unhappily  pre- 
vented a  brave,  generous,  and  accomplished 
people  from  combining  together  in  mutual 
defence.  The  emigration  and  forfeiture  of 
the  nobles  and  clergy  had  deprived  the 
country  at  once  of  those  higher  classes, 
that  right-hand  file,  who  are  bred  up  to  hold 
their  lives  light  if  called  on  to  lay  them 
down  for  religion,  or  in  defence  of  the 
rights  of  their  country,  or  the  principles  of 
their  own  honour  or  conscience.  Whatev- 
er may  be  thought  of  the  wisdom  or  neces- 
sity of  emigration,  its  evils  were  the  same. 
A  high-spirited  and  generous  race  of  gentry, 
accustomed  to  consider  themselves  as  pe- 
culiar depositaries  of  the  national  honour — 
a  learned  and  numerous  priesthood,  the 
guardians  of  religious  opinion — had  been 
removed  from  their  place,  and  society  waa 
so  much  the  more  weak  and  more  ignorant 
for  the  want  of  them.  Whether  voluntarily 
abandoning  or  forcibly  driven  from  the 
country,  the  expulsion  of  so  large  a  mass, 
belonging  entirely  to  the  higher  orders, 
tended  instantly  to  destroy  the  balance  of 
society,  and  to  throw  all  power  into  the 
hands  of  the  lower  class,  who,  deceived  by 
bad  and  artful  men,  abused  it  to  the  fright- 
ful excess  we  have  described. 

We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  emigrants 
had  carried  with  them  beyond  the  frontiers 
all  the  worth  and  courage  of  the  better 
classes  in  France,  or  that  there  were  not, 
among  men  attached  to  the  cause  of  liberty, 
many  who  would  have  shed  their  blood  to 
have  prevented  its  abuse.  But  these  had 
been  unhappily,  durina  the  progress  of  the 
Revolution,  divided  and  subdivided  amoni 
themselves,  were  split  up  into  a  variety  of 
broken  and  demolished  parties,  which  had 
repeatedly  sulfered  proscription  ;  and,  what 
was  worse,  sustained  it  from  the  hand  of 
each  other.  The  Constitutionalist  could 
not  safely  join  in  league  with  the  Royalist, 
oreither'with  the  Girondist;  and  thus  there 
existed  no  confidence  on  which  a  uoioa 


Chap.  X  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


169 


could  be  effected,  among  materials  repul- 
8ive  of  each  other.  There  extended  be- 
sides through  France,  far  and  near,  that  sor- 
row and  sinking  of  the  heart,  which  pre- 
Tails  amid  great  national  calamities  where 
there  is  little  hope.  The  state  of  oppres- 
sion was  80  universal,  that  no  one  strove  to 
remedy  its  evils  more  than  they  would 
have  struggled  to  remedy  the  malaria  of  an 
infected  country.  Those  who  escaped  the 
disorder  contented  themselves  with  their 
individual  safety,  without  thinking  of  the 
general  evil  as  one  which  human  art  could 
remedy,  or  human  courage  resist. 

Moreover,  the  Jacobinical  rulers  had  sur- 
rounded themselves  with  such  a  system  of 
espionage  and  delation,  that  the  attempt  to 
organize  any  resistance  to  their  power, 
would  have  been  in  fact  to  fall  inovitably 
and  fatally  under  their  tyranny.  If  the  bold 
conspirator  against  this  most  infernal  au- 
thority did  not  bestow  his  confidence  on  a 
false  friend  or  a  concealed  emissary  of  the 
Jacobin  party,  he  was  scarce  the  safer  ou 
that  account ;  for  if  he  breathed  forth  in  the 
jnost  friendly  ear  anything  tending  to  re- 
flect on  the  free,  happy,  and  humane  gov- 
ernment under  which  he  had  the  happiness 
to  live,  his  hearer  was  bound,  equally  as  a 
hired  spy,  to  carry  the  purport  of  the  con- 
versation to  the  constituted  authorities — 
that  is,  to  the  Revolutionary  Committees 
or  Republican  Commissioners ;  and,  above 
all,  to  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  Si- 
lence on  public  affairs,  and  acquiescence 
in  democratic  tyranny,  became,  therefore, 
matter  of  little  wonder;  for  men  will  be 
long  mute,  when  to  indulge  the  tongue  may 
endanger  the  head.  And  thus,  in  the  king- 
dom which  boasts  herself  most  civilized  in 
Europe,  and  with  all  that  ardour  for  liberty 
which  seemed  out  of  late  to  animate  every 
bosom,  the  general  apathy  of  terror  and  as- 
tonishment, joined  to  a  want  of  all  power 
\f  of  combination,  palsied  every  effort  at  re- 
sistance. They  who  make  national  reflec- 
tions on  the  French  for  remaining  passive 
onder  circumstances  so  hopeless,  should 
first  reflect,  that  our  disposition  to  prevent 
or  punish  crime,  and  our  supposed  readiness 
to  resist  oppression,  have  tneir  foundation 
in  a  strong  confidence  in  the  laws,  and  in 
the  immediate  support  which  they  are  sire 
to  receive  from  the  numerous  classes  who 
have  been  trained  up  to  respect  them,  as 
protectors  of  the  rich  equally  and  of  the 
poor.  But  in  France  the  whole  system  of 
the  administration  of  justice  was  in  the 
hands  of  brutal  force  ;  and  it  is  one  thing  to 
join  in  the  hue  and  cry  against  a  murderer, 
seconded  by  the  willing  assistance  of  a 
whole  population — another  to  venture  upon 
withstanding  him  in  his  den,  he  at  the  head 
of  his  banditti,  the  assailant  defenceless, 
Excepting  in  the  justice  of  his  cause. 

It  has  further  been  a  natural  subject  of 
wonder,  not  only  that  the  richer  and  better 
classes,  the  avowed  objects  of  Jacobin  per- 
secution, were  so  passively  resigned  to  this 
frightful  tyranny,  but  also  whv  the  French 
populace,  whose  general  manners  are  so 
civilized  and  so  kindly,  that  they  are,  on 
vrdinary  occasions,  the  gayest  and  best- 
VOL.  I.  U 


humoured  people  in  Europe,  should  have 
so  far  clianged  their  character  as  to  delight 
in  cruelty,  or  at  least  to  look  on,  without 
e.xpressing  disgust,  at  cruelties  perpetrated 
in  their  name. 

But  the  state  of  a  people  in  ordinary 
times  and  peaceful  occupations,  is  in  every 
country  totally  different  from  the  character 
which  they  manifest  under  strong  circum- 
stances of  excitation.  Rousseau  says,  that 
no  one  who  sees  the  ordinary  greyhound, 
the  most  sportive,  gentle,  and  timid  per- 
haps of  the  canine  race,  can  form  an  idea 
of  the  same  animal  pursuing  and  strang- 
ling its  screaming  and  helpless  victim. 
Something  of  this  sort  must  plead  the 
apology  of  the  French  people  in  the  early 
excesses  of  the  Revolution  ;  and  we  must 
remember,  that  men  collected  in  crowds, 
and  influenced  with  a  sense  of  wrongs, 
whether  real  or  imaginary,  are  acted  upon 
by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment ;  and  arf; 
besides  in  a  state  of  such  general  and  un- 
distinguishing  fury,  that  they  adopt,  by  join- 
ing in  the  clamours  and  general  shouts, 
deeds  of  which  they  hardly  witness  the  im- 
port, and  which  perhaps  not  one  of  the  as- 
sembled multitude  out  of  a  thousand  would 
countenance,  were  that  import  distinctly 
felt  ai,d  known.  In  the  revolutionary  mas- 
sacres and  cruelties,  there  was  always  an 
executive  po^ver,  consisting  of  a  few  well- 
breathed  and  thorough-paced  ruffians,  whose 
hands  perpetrated  the  actions,  to  which  the 
ignorant  vulgar  only  lend  their  acclama- 
tions. 

This  species  of  assentation  became  less 
wonderful  when  instant  slaughter,  without 
even  the  ceremony  of  inquiry,  had  been 
exchanged  for  some  forms,  however  flimsy 
and  unsubstantial,  of  regular  trial,  condem- 
nation, and  execution.  These  served  for  a 
time  to  satisfy  the  public  mind.  The  pop- 
ulace saw  men  dragged  to  the  guillotine, 
convicted  of  criminal  attempts,  as  they 
were  informed,  against  the  liberty  of  the 
people  ;  and  they  shouted  as  at  the  punish- 
ment of  their  own  immediate  enemies. 

But  as  the  work  of  death  proceeded  daily, 
the  people  became  softened  as  their  pas- 
sions abated;  and  the  frequency  of  such 
sacrifices  having  removed  the  odious  inter- 
est which  for  :■-  while  attended  thom,  the 
lower  classes,  whom  Robespierre  desired 
most  to  conciliate,  looked  on,  first  wth  in- 
difference, but  afterwards  with  shame  and 
disgust,  and  at  last  with  the  wish  to  put  an 
end  to  cruelties,  which  even  the  most  ig- 
norant and  prejudiced  began  to  regard  in 
their  own  true,  undisguised  light. 

Yet  the  operation  of  these  universal  t'oel- 
in^s  was  long  delayed.  To  support  the 
reign  of  Terror,  the  Revolutionarv  Com- 
mittees had  their  own  guards  and  execu- 
tioners, without  whom  they  could  not  have 
long  withstood  the  general  abhorre:';;;  of 
mankind.  All  official  situations  were  scfw- 
pulously  and  religiously  filled  um  by  indi- 
viduals chosen  from  the  Sans-Culottes,  who 
had  rendered  themselves,  by  their  zeal,  wor- 
thy of  that  honourable  appellation.  Were 
they  of  little  note,  they  were  empioved  in 
the  varioue  capacities  ot  guards,  officers. 


170 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XVI. 


and  jailors,  for  which  the  times  created  an 
unwearied  demand,  hia  tiiey  hold  places 
in  the  Convention,  they  were  frequently 
despatched  upon  commissions  to  different 
parts  of  France,  to  give  new  edge  to  the 
guillotine,  and  superintend  in  person  the 
punishment  of  conspiracy  or  rebellion,  real 
or  supposed.  Such  commissioners,  or  pro- 
consuls as  they  were  frequently  termed,  be- 
ing vested  with  unlimited  power,  and  fresh 
in  its  exercise,  signalized  themselves  by 
their  cruelty,  even  more  than  the  tyrants 
whose  will  they  discharged. 

We  may  quote,  in  illustration,  a  remarka- 
ble passage  in  an  address  by  the  Commis- 
sioners of  Public  Safety,  to  the  representa- 
tives absent  upon  commissions,  in  which 
there  occur  some  gentle  remarks  on  their 
having  extended  capital  punishment  to  ca- 
ses where  it  was  not  provided  by  law,  al- 
though the  lustre  of  their  services  to  the 
Republic  far  outshone  the  shade  of  such 
occasional  peccadilloes.  For  their  future 
.direction,  they  are  thus  exhorted.  "  Let 
your  energy  awaken  anew  as  the  term  of 
your  labour  approaches.  The  Convention 
charges  you  to  complete  tlie  purification 
and  reorganization  of  the  constituted  au- 
thorities with  the  least  possible  delay,  and 
to  report  the  conclusion  of  these  two  ope- 
rations before  the  end  of  the  next  month.  A 
simple  measure  may  effect  the  desired  pu- 
rification. Convoke  the  people  i7i  the  pop- 
ular societies — Let  the  public  functionaries 
appear  before  them — Interrogate  the  people 
on  the  subject  of  their  conduct,  and  let  their 
judgment  dictate  yours."*  Thus,  the  wild- 
est prejudices  arising  in  the  Jacobin  Club, 
consisting  of  the  lowest,  most  ignorant, 
most  prejudiced,  and  often  most  malicious 
members  in  society,  were  received  as  evi- 
dence, and  the  populace  declared  masters, 
at  their  own  pleasure,  of  the  property,  hon- 
our, and  life,  of  those  who  had  held  any 
brief  authority  over  them. 

Where  there  had  occurred  any  positive 
rising  or  resistance,  the  duty  of  the  Com- 
missioners was  extended  by  all  the  powers 
that  martial  law,  in  other  words,  the  rule  of 
superior  force,  could  confer.  We  have 
mentioned  the  murders  committed  at  Ly- 
ons ;  but  even  these,  though  hundreds  were 
swept  away  by  vollies  of  musket-shot,  fell 
short  of  the  horrors  perpetrated  by  Carrier 
at  Nantes,  who,  in  avenging  t  e  Republic 
on  the  obstinate  resistance  of  La  V^endee, 
might  have  summoned  hell  to  match  his 
cruelty,  without  a  demon  venturing  to  an- 
swer his  ch.iUenge.  Hundreds,  men,  wo- 
msjn,  and  children,  were  forced  on  board  of 
Tessels  which  were  scuttled  and  sunk  in 
the  Loire,  and  this  was  called  republican 
baptism.  Men  and  women  were  stripped, 
bound  together,  and  thus  thrown  into  the 
river,  and  this  was  called  republican  mar- 
riage. But  we  have  said  enough  to  show 
that  men's  blood  seems  to  have  been  con- 
verted into  poison,  and  their  hearts  into 
stone,  by  the  practices  in  which  they  were 
daily  engaged.     Many  affected  even  a  lust 


*  Moniteur,  No.  995  ;  Nivoie  Pan  2me,  25tb  De- 
«niit)ex  1793. 


of  cruelty,  and  the  instrument  of  punish- 
ment was  talked  of  with  the  fondness  and 
gaiety  with  which  we  speak  of  a  beloved 
and  fondled  object.  It  had  its  pet  name 
of  the  Little  National  Window,  and  others 
equally  expressive ;  and  although  saints 
were  not  much  in  fashion,  was,  in  some  de- 
gree, canonized  by  the  name  of  the  Holy 
Mother  Guillotine.  That  active  citizen, 
the  Executioner,  had  also  his  honours,  as 
well  as  the  senseless  machine  which  he  di- 
rected. This  official  was  admitted  to  the 
society  of  some  of  the  more  emphatic  pa- 
triots, and,  as  we  shall  afterwards  see, 
shared  in  their  civic  festivities.  It  may  be 
questioned  whether  even  his  company  was 
not  too  good  for  the  patrons  who  thus  re- 
galed him. 

There  was  also  an  armed  force  raised 
among  the  most  thorough-paced  and  harden- 
ed satellites  of  the  lower  order,  termed  by 
pre-eminence  the  Revolutionary  Army. 
They  were  under  the  command  of  Rous- 
sin,  a  general  every  way  worthy  of  such 
soldiers.  These  troops  were  produced  on 
all  occasions,  when  it  was  necessary  to  in- 
timidate the  metropolis  and  the  National 
Cuard.  They  were  at  the  more  immediate 
disposal  of  the  Commune  of  Paris,  and  were 
a  ready,  though  not  a  great  force,  which  al- 
ways could  be  produced  at  a  moment's  no- 
tice, and  were  generally  joined  by  the  more 
active  democrats,  in  the  capacity  of  a  Jaco- 
bin militia.  In  their  own  ranks  they  mus- 
tered six  thousand  men. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  some  of  the 
persons    whose  agency  was   distinguished 
during  this  disgraceful  period,  and   whose 
hands  were  deeply  dyed  in  the  blood  so  un- 
relentingly shed,  under  whatever  phrenzy 
of  brain,  or  state  of  a  generally  maddening 
impulse,  they  may  have  acted,  nevertheless 
made  amends  in  their  after  conduct  for  their 
enormities    then    committed.       This   was 
the  case  with  Tallien,  with  Barras,  with 
Fouche,   Legendre,  and  others,  who,  nei- 
ther good  nor  scrupulous  men,  were  yet,  up- 
on many  subsequent  occasions,  much  more 
humane    and    moderate  than    could    have 
been  expected  from  their  early   acquaint- 
ance with  revolutionary  horrors.     They  re- 
sembled disbanded  soldiers,  who,  returned 
to  their  native  homes,  often  resume  so  en- 
tirely the  habits  of  earlier  life,  that   they 
seem  to  have  forgotten  the   wild,  and  per- 
haps sanguinary  character  of  their  military 
career.      We  cannot,  indeed,  pay  any  of 
these  reformed  Jacobins  the   compliment 
ascribed  to  Octavius  by  the  Romans,  who 
found  a  blessing  in  the  Emperor's  benevo- 
lent government,  which   compensated  the 
injuries  inflicted  by  the  Triumvir.     But   it 
is  certain  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  cour- 
age of  Tallien  and  Barras  in  particular,  il 
might    have    been   much    longer   ere    ih« 
French  had  been  able  to  rid  themselves  of 
Robespierre,  and  that  the  revolution  of  9th 
Tliermidor,  as  they  called  the  memorable 
day    of   his   fall,  was  in  a  great  measure 
brought  about  by  the  remorse   or  jealousy 
of  the   Dictator's  old  comrades.     But  ere 
we  arrive  at  that  more  auspicious  point  of 
our  story,  we  have  to  consider  the  traiii  of 


Ckap.  X  F/.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


171 


causes  which  led  to  the  downfall  of  Jaco- 
binism. 

Periods  which  display  ^eat  national  fail- 
ings or  vices,  are  those  also  which  bring  to 
light  distinguished  and  redeeming  virtues. 
France  unfortunately,  during  the  years  1793 
and  1794,  e.-shibited  instances  of  extreme 
cruelty,  in  principle  and  practice,  which 
make  the  human  blood  curdle.  She  may 
also  be  censured  for  a  certain  abasement  of 
epirit,  for  sinking  so  long  unresistingly  un- 
der a  yoke  so  unnaturally  horrible.  But 
she  has  to  boast  that,  during  this  fearful  pe- 
riod, she  can  produce  as  many  instances  of 
the  most  high  and  honourable  fidelity,  of  the 
most  courageous  and  devoted  humanity,  as 
honour  the  annals  of  any  country  whatever. 

The  cruelty  of  the  laws  denounced  the 
highest  penalties  against  those  who  relieved 
proscribed  fugitives.  These  were  execut- 
ed with  the  most  merciless  rigour.  Ma- 
dame Boucquey  and  her  husband  were  put  to 
death  at  Bourdeau.x  for  affording  shelter  to 
ihe  members  of  the  Gironde  faction ;  and 
the  interdiction  of  fire  and  water  to  outlawed 
oersons,  of  whatever  description,  was  en- 
orced  with  the  heaviest  penalty.  Yet, 
/lot  only  among  the  better  classes,  but 
among  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  were  there 
men  of  noble  minds  found,  who,  having  but 
half  a  morsel  to  support  their  own  family, 
(livided  it  willingly  with  some  wretched 
fugitive,  though  death  stood  ready  to  re- 
ward their  charity. 

In  some  cases,  fidelity  and  devotion  aid- 
ed tiie  suggestions  of  humanity.  Among 
domestic  servants,  a  race  whose  virtues 
should  be  the  more  esteemed,  that  they  are 
practised  sometimes  in  defiance  of  strong 
temptation,  were  found  many  distinguished 
instances  of  unshaken  fidelity.  Indeed,  it 
must  be  said,  to  the  honour  of  the  French 
manners,  that  the  master  and  his  servant 
live  on  a  footing  of  much  more  kindliness 
than  attends  the  same  relation  in  other 
countries,  and  especially  in  Britain.     Even 


in  the  most  trj'ing  situations,  there  wer« 
not  many  nstances  of  domestic  treason, 
and  many  a  master  owed  his  life  to  the  at- 
tachment and  fidelity  of  a  menial.  The 
feelings  of  religion  sheltered  others.  The 
recusant  and  exiled  priests  often  fouad 
among  their  former  flock  the  means  of  con- 
cealment and  existence,  wlien  it  was  death 
to  administer  them.  Often,  this  must  have 
flowed  from  grateful  recollection  of  their 
former  religious  services — sometimes  froea 
unmingled  veneration  for  the  Being  whose 
ministers  they  professed  themselves.*  No- 
thing short  of  such  heroic  exertions,  which 
were  numerous,  (and  especially  in  the  class 
where  individuals,  hard  pressed  on  account 
of  their  own  wants,  are  often  rendered  cal- 
lous to  the  distress  of  others,)  could  have 
prevented  France,  during  this  horrible  pe- 
riod, from  becoming  an  universal  charnel- 
house,  and  her  history  an  unvaried  kalendar 
of  mur  ler. 


*  Stranger?  are  forcibly  affected  by  the  trifling 
incidenlB  which  sometimes  recall  the  memory  of 
those  fearful  time.').  A  venerable  French  ecclesi- 
a.stic  being  on  a  visit  at  a  gentleman's  house  in 
North  Britain,  it  was  remarked  by  the  family,  thai 
a  favourite  cat,  rather  wild  and  capricious  in  his 
habits,  paid  particular  attention  to  their  guc«t. 
It  was  explained,  by  the  priest  giving  an  account 
of  his  lurking  in  the  waste  garret,  or  lumber-room, 
of  an  artisan's  house  fur  several  weeks.  In  this 
condition  he  had  no  better  amusement  than  to 
study  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  cats  which 
frequented  his  place  of  retreat,  and  acquire  the 
mode  of  conciliating  their  favour.  The  difficulty 
of  supplying  him  with  food,  without  attracting 
suspicion,  was  extreme,  and  it  could  only  be  plac- 
ed near  his  place  of  concealment  in  small  quanti- 
ties, and  at  uncertain  times.  Men,  women,  and 
children,  knew  of  his  being  in  that  place;  tliefc 
were  rewards  to  be  gained  by  discovery,  life  to 
be  lost  by  persevering  in  concealing  him  ;  yet  he 
was  faithfully  preserved,  to  try  upon  a  Scottish 
cat,  after  the  restoration  of  the  Monarchy,  the 
arts  which  he  had  learned  in  his  miserable  pl«e« 
of  shelter  during  the  reign  of  Terror.  The  bit 
tbry  of  the  time  abounds  with  similar  icitances 


172 


LITE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE, 


[Chap.  xvn. 


OHAP.  ZVII. 

Marat,  Danion,  Robespierre. — Marat  poniarded — Danton  and  Robespierre  beeom* 
Rivals. — Commune  of  Paris — their  gross  Irreligion.—Gobet. — Goddess  of  Reasorv. — 
Marriage  reduced  to  a  Civil  Contract. —  Views  of  Danton — and  of  Robespierre. — 
Principal  Leaders  of  the  Commune  arrested— and  Nineteen  of  them  executed. — Dan^ 
ton  arrested  by  the  influence  of  Robespierre — and,  along  inth  Camille  Desmoulitu, 
Westermann,  and  La  Croix,  taken  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  condemned, 
and  executed. — Decree  issued,  on  the  motion  of  Robespierre,  acknowledging  a  Su- 
preme Being. — Cecilie  Regnaut. — Gradual  Change  in  the  Public  Mind. — Robespierre 
becomes  unpopular — Makes  every  effort  to  retrieve  his  power. — Stormy  Debate  in  the 
Convention. — Collot  D'Herbois,  TalHen,  &.c.  expelled  from  the  Jacobin  Club  at  the 
instigation  of  Robespierre. — Robespierre  denounced  in  the  Convention  on  the  9th 
Thermidor  (21th  July,)  and,  after  furious  struggles,  an'ested,  along  with  his  brother, 
Couthon,  and  Saint  Just. — Henriot,  Commandant  of  the  National  Guard,  arrested. — 
Terrorists  take  Refuge  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville — Attempt  their  own  lives. — Robespierre 
wounds  himself — but  lives,  along  with  most  of  the  others,  long  enough  to  be  carried  to 
the  Guillotine,  and  execxited. — His  character—  Struggles  that  followed  his  Fate. — 
Final  Destruction  of  the  Jacobinical  System— and  return  of  Tranquillity. — Singular 
colour  given  to  Society  in  Paris. — Ball  of  the  Victims. 


The  reader  need  not  be  reminded,  that  the 
three  distinguished  champions  who  assum- 
ed the  front  in  the  Jacobin  ranks,  were 
Marat,  Danton,  and  Robespierre.  The 
'first  was  poniarded  by  Charlotte  Corday, 
an  enthusiastic  young  person,  who  had 
nourished,  in  a  feeling  betwixt  lunacy  and 
heroism,  the  ambition  of  ridding  the  world 
of  a  tyrant.  Danton  and  Robespierre,  re- 
duced to  a  Duumvirate,  might  have  divided 
the  power  betwixt  them.  But  Danton,  far 
the  more  able  and  powerful-minded  man, 
could  not  resist  temptations  to  plunder  and 
to  revel ;  and  Robespierre,  who  took  care 
to  preserve  proof  of  his  rival's  peculations, 
a  crime  of  a  peculiarly  unpopular  charac- 
ter, and  from  which  he  seemed  to  keep  his 
own  hands  pure,  possessed  thereby  the 
power  of  ruining  him  whenever  he  should 
find  it  onvenient.  Danton  married  a  beau- 
tiful woman,  became  a  candidate  for  do- 
mestic happiness,  withdrew  himself  for 
some  time  from  state  affairs,  and  quitted 
the  stern  and  menacing  attitude  which  he 
had  presented  to  the  public  during  the  ear- 
lier stages  of  the  Revolution.  Still  his 
ascendancy,  especially  in  the  Club  of  Cor- 
deliers, was  formidable  enough  to  command 
Robespierre's  constant  attention,  and  keep 
awake  his  envy,  which  was  like  the  worm 
that  dieth  not,  though  it  did  not  draw  down 
any  indication  of  his  immediate  and  active 
vengeance.  A  power,  kindred  also  in 
crime,  but  more  within  his  reach  for  the 
moment,  was  first  to  be  demolished,  ere 
Robespierre  was  to  measure  strength  with 
his  great  rivnl. 

This  third  party  consisted  of  those  who 
had  possessed  themselves  of  official  situa- 
tions in  the  Commune  of  Paris,  whose  civic 
authority,  and  the  implement  which  they 
command/^f'  in  the  Uevolutionary  army, 
commanded  by  Roussin,  pave  them  the 
power  of  marching,  at  a  moment's  warning, 
upon  the  Ct)nvcution,  or  even  against  the 
Jacobin  Club.  It  is  true,  these  men,  of 
whom  Hebcrt  Cliaumette,  and  others,  were 
kaders,  had  never  sliown  the  least  diffi- 
dence of  Robespierre,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
had  used  ail  meana  to  propitiate  his  favour. 


But  the  man  whom  a  tyrant  fears,  becomes, 
with  little  farther  provocation,  the  object 
of  his  mortal  enmity.  Robespierre  watch- 
ed, therefore,  with  vigilance,  the  occasion 
of  overreaching  and  destroying  this  party, 
whose  power  he  dreaded  ;  and,  singular  to 
tell,  he  sought  the  means  of  accomplishing 
their  ruin  in  the  very  extravagance  of  their 
revolutionary  zeal,  which  shortly  before  ho 
might  have  envied,  as  pushed  farther  than 
his  own.  But  Robespierre  did  not  want 
sense  ;  and  he  saw  with  pleasure  Hebert, 
Chaumette,  and  their  followers,  run  into 
such  inordinate  extravagancies,  as  he 
thou[;ht  might  render  his  own  interference 
desirable,  even  to  those  who  most  disliked 
his  principles,  most  abhorred  the  paths  by 
which  he  had  climbed  to  power,  and  most 
feared  the  use  which  he  made  of  it. 

It  was  through  the  subject  of  religion 
that  this  means  of  ruining  his  opponents,  aa 
he  hoped,  arose.  A  subject,  which  one 
would  have  thought  so  indifferent  to  either, 
came  to  be  on  both  sides  the  occasion  of 
quarrel  between  the  Commune  of  Paris  and 
the  Jacobin  leader.  But  there  is  a  fanati- 
cism of  atheism,  as  well  as  of  superstitious 
belief;  and  a  philosopher  can  harbour  and 
express  as  much  malice  against  those  who 
persevere  in  believing  what  he  is  pleased 
to  denounce  as  unworthy  of  credence,  aa 
an  ignorant  and  bigoted  priest  can  bear 
against  a  man  who  cannot  yield  faith  to  dog- 
mata which  he  thinks  insufficiently  provei 
Accordingly,  the  throne  being  totally  anni 
hilated,  it  appeared  to  the  philosophers  of 
the  school  of  Hebert,  (who  was  author  of 
the  most  gross  and  beastly  periodical  paper 
of  the  time,  called  the  Pere  du  Chene,) 
that  in  totally  destroying  such  vestiges  of 
religion  ;ind  public  worship  as  were  still 
retained  by  the  people  of  France,  there  wa» 
room  for  a  splendid  triumph  of  liberal  opin- 
ions. It  was  not  enough,  they  said,  for  a 
regenerate  nation  to  have  dethroned  earthly 
kings,  unless  she  stretched  out  the  arm  of 
defiance  towards  those  powers  which  su- 
perstition had  represented  as  reigning  over 
Doundless  space. 

An  uoh^py  man,  named  Gobet,  ComU- 


Ckap.  XVII.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


173 


totional  Bishop  of  Paris,  was  brought  for- 
wtrd  to  play  the  principal  part  in  the  most 
impudent  and  scandalous  farce  ever  acted 
in  the  face  of  a  national  representation. 

It  is  said  that  the  leaders  of  the  scene 
had  some  difficulty  in  inducing  the  bisiiop 
to  coniply  with  the  task  assigi;ed  him, 
which,  after  all,  he  executed,  not  without 
present  tears  and  subsequent  remorse.  But 
he  did  play  the  part  prescribed.  He  was 
brought  forward  in  full  procession,  to  de- 
clare to  the  Convention,  that  the  religion 
which  he  had  taught  so  many  years,  was,  in 
every  respect,  a  piece  of  priestcraft,  which 
had  no  foundation  either  in  history  or  sa- 
cred truth.  He  disowned,  in  solemn  and 
explicit  terms,  the  existence  of  the  Deity 
to  whose  worship  he  had  been  consecrated, 
and  devoted  hi.nself  in  future  to  the  hom- 
age of  Liberty,  Equality.  \'irtue,  and  Mo- 
rality. He  then  laid  on  the  table  his  Epis- 
copal decorations,  and  received  a  fraternal 
embrace  from  the  President  of  the  Conven- 
tion. Several  apostate  priests  followed  the 
example  of  this  prelate. 

The  gold  and  silver  plate  of  the  churches 
waa  seized  upon  and  desecrated ;  proces- 
sions entered  the  Convention,  travestied  in 
priestly  garments,  and  singing  the  most  pro- 
fane hymns ;  while  many  of  the  chalices 
and  sacred  vessels  were  applied  by  Chau- 
mette  and  Hebert  to  the  celebration  of  their 
own  impious  orgies.  The  world,  for  the 
first  time,  heard  an  assembly  of  men,  born 
and  educated  in  civilization,  and  assuming 
the  right  to  govern  one  of  the  finest  of  the 
European  nations,"  uplift  their  united  voice 
to  deny  the  most  solemn  truth  which  man's 
soul  receives,  and  renounce  unanimously 
the  belief  and  worship  of  a  Deity.  For  a 
short  time  the  same  mad  profanity  continu- 
ed to  be  acted  upon. 

One  of  the  ceremonies  of  this  insane 
time  stands  unrivalled  for  absurdity,  com- 
bined with  impiety.  The  doors  of  the  Con- 
vention were  thrown  open  to  a  band  of  mu- 
sicians ;  preceded  by  whom,  the  members 
of  the  Municipal  Body  entered  in  solemn 
procession,  singing  a  hymn  in  praise  of  lib- 
erty, and  escorting,  as  the  object  of  their 
future  worship,  a  veiled  female,  whom  they 
termed  the  Goddess  of  Reason.  Being 
brought  within  the  bar,  she  was  unveiled 
with  great  form,  and  placed  on  the  right 
band  of  the  President ;  when  .she  was  gen- 
erally recognized  as  a  dancing-girl  of  the 
Opera,  with  whose  charms  most  of  the  per- 
sons present  were  acquainted  from  her  ap- 
pearance on  the  stage,  while  the  experi- 
ence of  individuals  was  farther  extended. 
To  this  person,  as  the  fittest  representative 
of  that  Reason  whom  they  worshipped,  the 
National  Convention  of  France  rendered 
public  homage. 

This  impious  and  ridiculous  mummery 
had  a  certain  fashion  ;  and  the  installation 
of  the  Goddess  of  Reason  was  renewed  and 
imitated  throughout  the  nation,  in  such  pla- 
ces where  the  inhabitants  desired  to  show 
themselves  equal  to  all  the  heights  of  the 
Revolution.  The  churches  were,  in  most 
districts  of  France,  closed  against  priests 
ud  worshippers — the  bells  were  broken 


and  cast  into  cannon — the  whole  ecclesias- 
tical establishment  destroyed — and  the  Re- 
publican inscription  over  the  cemeteries, 
declaring  death  to  be  perpetual  sleep,  an- 
nounced to  those  who  lived  under  that  do- 
minion, that  they  were  to  hope  no  redress 
even  in  the  next  world. 

Intimately  connected  with  theae  laws 
affecting  religion,  was  that  which  reduced 
the  union  of  marriage,  the  most  sacred  en- 
gagement which  human  beings  can  form, 
and  the  permanence  of  which  leads  most 
strongly  to  the  consolidation  of  society,  to 
the  state  of  a  mere  civil  contract  of  a  tran- 
sitory character,  which  any  two  persons 
might  engage  in,  and  cast  loose  at  pleasure, 
when  their  taste  was  changed,  or  their  ap- 
petite gratified.  If  fiends  had  set  them- 
selves to  work  to  discover  a  mode  of  most 
effectually  destroying  whatever  is  venera- 
ble, graceful,  or  permanent  in  domestic  life, 
and  of  obtaining  at  the  same  time  an  assur- 
ance that  the  mischief  which  it  was  their 
object  to  create  should  be  perpetrated  from 
one  generation  to  another,  they  could  not 
have  invented  a  more  effectual  plan  than 
the  degradation  of  marriage  into  a  state  of 
mere  occasional  cohabitation,  or  licer.sed 
concubinage.  Sophie  Arnoult,  an  actress 
famous  for  the  witty  things  she  said,  de- 
scribed the  Republican  marriage  as  the  Sa- 
crament of  adultery. 

These  anti-religious  and  anti-social  regu- 
lations did  not  answer  the  purpose  of  the 
frantic  and  inconsiderate  zealots,  by  whom 
they  had  been  urged  forward.  Hebert  and 
Chaumette  had  outrun  the  spirit  of  the 
time,  evil  as  that  was,  and  had  contrived  to 
get  beyond  the  sympathy  even  of  those, 
who,  at  heart  as  vicious  and  criminal  as 
they,  had  still  the  sagacity  to  fear,  or  the 
taste  to  be  disgusted  with,  this  overstrained 
tone  of  outrageous  impiety.  Perhaps  they 
might  have  other  motives  for  condemning 
so  gross  a  display  of  irreligion.  The  most 
guilty  of  men  r.re  not  desire  us,  generally 
speaking,  totally  to  disbelieve  and  abandon 
all  doctrines  of  religious  faith.  They  can- 
not, if  they  would,  prevent  themselves  from 
apprehending  a  future  state  of  retribution  ; 
and  little  effect  as  such  feeble  glimmering 
of  belief  may  have  on  their  lives,  they  will 
not  in  general  willingly  throw  away  the 
slight  chance,  that  it  may  be  possible  on 
some  occasion  to  reconcile  themselves  to 
the  Church  or  to  the  Deity.  This  hope, 
even  to  those  on  whom  it  has  no  salutary 
influence,  resembles  the  confidence  given 
to  a  sailor  during  a  gale  of  wind,  by  his 
knowing  that  there  is  a  port  under  his  lee. 
His  purpose  may  be  never  to  run  for  the 
haven,  or  he  may  judge  there  is  great  im- 
probability that  by  doing  so  he  should 
reach  it  in  safety  ;  yet  still,  such  being  the 
case,  he  would  esteem  himself  but  little  in- 
debted to  any  one  who  should  blot  the  har- 
bour of  refuge  out  of  the  chart.  To  all 
those,  who,  in  various  degrees,  received 
and  believed  the  great  truths  of  religion, 
on  which  those  of  morality  are  dependant, 
the  professors  of  those  wild  absurdities  be« 
came  objects  of  contempt,  dislike,  hatred, 
and  punishment. 


174 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOJV   BUONAPARTE. 


iChap.  XVIL 


Danton  regarded  tlie  proceedings  of  He- 
bert  arid  nis  phiiosopuers  of  the  Commune 
with  scorn  and  disgust.  However  wicked 
he  had  shown  himself,  he  was  too  wise  and 
too  proud  to  approve  of  such  impolitic  and 
senseless  folly.  Besides,  this  perpetual 
undermining  whatever  remained  of  social 
institutions,  prevented  any  stop  being  put 
to  the  revolutionary  movements,  which 
Danton,  having  placed  his  party  at  the  head 
of  affairs,  and  himself  nearly  as  high  as  he 
could  promise  to  climb,  was  now  desirous 
should  be  done. 

_  Robespierre  looked  on  these  extravagant 
proceedings  with  a  different  and  more 
watchful  eye.  He  saw  what  Hebert  and 
his  associates  had  lost  in  popularity,  by  af- 
fecting the  doctrines  of  atheism  and  utter 
profaneness  ;  aixl  he  imagined  a  plan,  first 
for  destroying  these  blasphemers,  by  the 
general  consent  of  the  nation,  as  noxious 
animals,  and  then  of  enlarging,  and,  as  it 
"vere,  sanctifyinii  his  own  power,  by  once 
more  connecting  a  spirit  of  devotion  of 
so.ne  modified  kind  or  other  with  the  rev- 
olutionary form  of  government,  of  which 
he  desired  to  continue  the  head. 

It  has  even  been  supposed,  that  Robes- 
pierre's extravagant  success  in  rising  so 
much  above  all  human  expectation,  had  in- 
duced him  to  entertain  some  thoughts  of 
acting  the  part  of  a  new  Maliomet,  in  bring- 
ing back  religious  opinion  into  France,  un- 
der his  own  direct  auspices.  He  is  said  to 
have  countenanced  in  secret  the  extrava- 
gancies of  a  female  called  Catharine  The- 
ot,  orTheos,  an  enthusiastic  devotee,  whose 
doctri.ies  leaned  to  Quietism.  She  was  a 
kind  of  Joanna  Southcote,  and  the  Aaron 
of  her  sect  wasDom  Gerle,  formerly  a  Car- 
thusian monk,  and  remarkable  for  the  mo- 
tion he  made  in  the  first  National  Assembly 
that  the  Catholic  religion  should  be  recog- 
nised as  that  of  France.*  Since  that  time 
he  had  become  entirely  deranged.  A  few 
visionaries  of  both  sexes  attended  secret 
and  nightly  meetings,  in  which  Theot  and 
Dom  Gerle  presided.  Robespierre  was  re- 
cognised by  them  as  one  of  the  elect,  and  is 
said  to  have  favoured  their  superstitious 
doctrines.  But  wliether  the  Dictator  saw 
in  them  anything  more  than  tools,  which 
might  be  applied  to  his  own  purpose,  there 
seems  no  positive  authority  to  decide.  At 
any  rate,  whatever  religious  opinions  he 
might  have  imbibed  himself,  or  have  be- 
come desirous  of  infusing  into  the  state, 
thev  were  not  such  as  were  qualified  to 
modify  eitlicr  his  ambition,  his  jealousy,  or 
his  love  of  blood. 

The  power  of  Hebert,  Cliaumette,  and 
of  the  Community  of  Paris  was  now  ripe 
for  destruction.  Roussin,  with  the  other 
armed  satellites  of  the  revolutionary  army, 
bullied  indeed,  and  spoke  about  taking  the 
part  of  the  magistracy  '^f  Paris  against  the 
Convention ;  but  though  they  had  the  mas- 
ter and  active  ruffians  still  at  their  service, 
they  could  no  loncrer  command  the  long  sa- 
ble columns  of  pikes,  which  used  to  follow 
and  back  them,  and  witliout  whose  aid  they 


Page  71. 


feared  they  might  not  be  found  equal  in 
number  to  face  the  National  Guard.  So 
early  as  27th  December  1793,  we  find 
Cliaumette  expressing  himself  to  the  Com- 
mune as  one  who  had  fallen  on  evil  times 
and  evil  days.  He  brought  forward  evi- 
dence to  show,  that  it  was  not  he  who  haid 
conducted  the  installation  of  the  Goddess 
of  Reason  in  his  native  city  of  Nevers  ;  and 
he  complains  heavily  of  his  lot,  that  the 
halls  were  crowded  with  women  demand- 
ing the  liberty  of  their  husbands,  and  com- 
plaining of  the  conduct  of  the  Revolutiona- 
ry .Societies.  It  was  plain  that  a  change 
was  taking  place  in  the  political  atmosphere, 
when  Chaumette  was  obliged  to  vindicate 
himself  from  the  impiety  which  used  to  be 
his  boast,  and  was  subjected  besides  to  fe- 
male reproach  for  his  republican  zeal,  in 
imprisoning  and  destroying  a  few  thousand 
suspected  persons. 

This  spirit  of  reaction  increased,  and  was 
strengthened  by  Robespierre's  influence 
now  thrown  into  the  scale  against  the  Com- 
mune. The  principal  leaders  in  the  Com- 
mune, many  of  whom  seem  to  have  been 
foreignens,  and  among  the  rest  the  celebrat- 
ed Anacharsis  Clootz,  were  arrested.* 

The  case  of  these  men  was  singular,  and 
would  have  been  worthy  of  pity  had  it  ap- 
plied to  any  but  such  worthless  wretches. 
They  were  accused  of  almost  every  spe- 
cies of  crime  which  seemed  such  in  the 
eyes  of  a  Sans-Culotte.  Much  there  waa 
which  could  be  only  understood  metaphysi- 
cally, much  there  was  of  literal  falsehood, 
but  little  or  nothing  like  a  distinct  or  well- 
grounded  accusation  of  a  specific  criminal 
fact.  The  charge  bore,  that  they  were  aa- 
sociates  of  Pitt  and  Cobourg,  and  had  com- 
bined against  the  sovereignty  of  the  peo- 
ple— loadej  them  with  the  intention  of 
starving  thereby  Paris — with  that  of  ridi- 
culing the  Convention,  by  a  set  of  puppets 
dressed  up  to  imitate  that  scarce  less  pas- 
sive Assembly — and  much  more  to  the 
same  purpose,  consisting  of  allegations  that 
were  totally  unimportant,  or  totally  unprov- 
ed. But  nothing  was  said  of  their  rivalry 
to  Robespierre,  which  was  the  true  cause 
of  their  trial,  and  as  little  of  their  revolu- 
tionary murders,  being  the  ground  on 
which  they  really  deserved  their  fate. 
Something  was  talked  of  pillage,  at  which 
Roussin,  the  commandant  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary .\rmy,  lost  all  patience.  "  Do  they 
talk  to  me  of  pilfering?"  he  says— "  Dare 
they  accuse  such  a  man  as  I  am  of  a  theft 
of  bed  and  body  linen  '!  Do  they  bring 
against  me  a  charge  of  petty  larceny — 
against  me  who  have  had  all  their  throats  at 
my  disposal  ?" 

The  accused  persons  were  convicted  and 
executed,  to  the  number  of  nineteen.  From 
that  time  the  city  of  Paris  lost  the  means 
of  being  so  pre-eminent  in  the  affairs  of 
France,  as  her  Commune  had  formerly  ren- 
dered her.  The  power  of  the  magistracy  was 
much  broken  by  the  reduction  of  the  Rev- 
olutionary Army,  which  the  Convention  dis- 
solved as  levied  upon  false  principles,  and 

*  iSd  March  1794. 


Cht^.XVU.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEO.N  BUONAPARTE. 


175 


as  being  rather  a  metropolitan  than  a  na-  gence,  the  most  complete  stifler  of  human 
tional  force,  and  one  which  was  easily  ap-  virtue,  and  his  implication  at  the  beginning 
plied  to  serve  the  purposes  of  a  party.  I  of  his  career  with  the  wretched  faction  of 

The  Hebertists  being  removed,  Robes- '  Orleans,  made  him,  if  not  a  worse,  certainly 
pierre  had  yet  to  combat  and  defeat  a  more  j  a  meaner  villain  than  nature  had  designed 
formidable  adversary.  The  late  conspira-  |  him ;  for  his  pride  must  have  saved  him 
tors  had  held  associations  witli  the  club  of  j  from  much,  which  he  yielded  to  from  the 
Cordeliers,  with  which  Danton  was  suppos-  '  temptations  of  gross  indulgence,  and  from 


ed  to  have  particular  relations,  but  they  had 
not  experienced  his  support,  whicli  in  poli- 
cy he  ought  to  have  extended  to  them.  He 
had  begun  to  separate  his  party  and  his 
views  too  distinctly  from  his  old  friends 
and  old  proceedings.  He  imagined,  falsely 
as  it  proved,  that  his  bark  could  sail  as  tri- 
umphantly upon  waves  composed  only  of 
water,  as  on  those  of  blood.  He  and  oth- 
ers seem  to  have  been  seized  witii  a  loath- 
ing against  these  continued  acts  of  cruelty, 
as  if  they  had  been  gorged  and  nauseated  by 
the  constant  repetition.  Danton  spoke  oi" 
mercy  and  pardon  ;  and  his  partisan,  Ca- 
mille  Desmoulins,  in  a  very  ingenious  parody 
upon  Tacitus,  drew  a  comparison  between 
the  tyrants  and  informers  of  the  French  Jac- 
obin government,  and  those  of  the  Roman 
Imperial  Court.  The  parallels  were  most 
ably  drawn,  and  Robespierre  and  his  agents 
might  read  their  own  characters  in  those  of 
the  most  odious  wretches  of  that  odious 
time.  From  these  agiiressions  Danton 
seemed  to  meditate  the  part  which  Tallien 
afterwards  adopted,  of  destroying  Robes- 
pierre and  his  power,  and  substituting  a 
mode  of  government  which  should  show 
some  regard  at  least  to  life  and  to  property. 
But  he  was  too  late  in  making  his  move- 
ment; Robespierre  was  beforehand  with 
him  5  and,  on  the  morning  of  the  31st  of 
March,  the  Parisians  and  the  members  of  the 
Convention  hardly  dared  whisper  to  each 
other,  that  Danton,  whose  name  had  been 
as  formidable  as  the  sound  of  the  :ocs:n,  had 
been  arrested  like  any  poor  ex-noble,  and 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  fatal  lictors. 

There  was  no  end  of  exclamation  and 
wonder ;  for  Danton  was  the  great  apostle, 
the  very  Mahomet  of  Jacobinism.  His  gi- 
gantic stature,  his  huge  and  ferocious  phys- 
iognomy, his  voice  which  struck  terror  in 


the  sense  of  narrow  circumstances.  Still 
wlieu  Danton  fell  under  Robespierre,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  mousing-owl  had  hawked 
at  and  struck  an  eagle,  or  at  least  a  high- 
soaring  vulture.  His  avowed  associates 
lamented  him  of  course  ;  nay,  Legendre 
and  others,  by  undertaking  his  defence  in 
the  Convention,  and  arrogating  for  him  the 
merit  of  those  violent  measures  which  had 
paved  the  way  to  the  triumph  of  Jacobin- 
ism, showed  more  consistency  in  their 
friendship  than  these  ferocious  demagogues 
manifested  on  any  other  occasion. 

Danton,  before  his  fall,  seemed  to  have 
lost  much  of  his  sagacity  as  well  as  energy. 
He  had  full  warning  of  his  danger  from  La 
Croix,  Wcstermann,  and  others,  )et  took 
no  steps  either  for  escape  or  defence, 
though  either  seemed  in  his  power.  Still 
his  courage  was  in  no  degree  abated,  or  his 
haughty  spirit  tamed  ;  although  he  seemed 
to  submit  passively  to  his  fate  with  the 
disheartening  conviction,  which  often  un- 
mans great  criminals,  that  his  hour  was 
come. 

Danton's  process  was,  of  course,  a  short 
one.  He  and  his  comrades,  Camille  Des- 
moulins, Westermann,  and  La  Croix,  were 
dragged  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal, 
a  singular  accomplishment  of  the  prophecy 
of  the  Girondist,  Boyer  Fonfrede.  This 
man  had  exclaimed  to  Danton,  under  whose 
auspices  that  engine  of  arbitrary  power  was 
established,  ''  You  insist,  then,  upon  erect- 
ing this  arbitrary  judgment-seat  ?  Be  it  so  j 
and,  like  the  tormenting  engine  devised  by 
Phalaris,  may  it  not  fail  to  consume  its  in- 
ventors !"  As  judges,  witnesses,  accusers, 
and  guards,  Danton  was  now  surrounded 
by  those  who  had  been  too  humble  to  as- 
pire to  be  companions  of  his  atrocities,  and 
held  themselves   sufficiently   honoured  in 


its  notes  of  distant  thunder,  and  the  ener-  becoming  his  agents.  They  looked  on  his 
gies  of  talent  and  vehemence  mingled,  unstooping  pride  and  unshaken  courage,  as 
which  supplied  that  voice  with  language  |  timid  spectators  upon  a  lion  in  a  cage,  whUe  ■ 
worthy  of  its  deep  tones,  were  such  as  be-  they  still  doubt  the  security  of  the  bars, 
came  the  prophet  of  that  horrible  and  fear-  and' have  little  confidence  in  their  own  per- 
ful  sect.  Marat  was  a  madman,  raised  into  I  sonal  safety.  He  answered,  to  the  formal 
consequence  only  by  circumstances, — Ro-  j  interrogatories  concerning  his  name  and 
bespierre  a  cold,  creeping,  calculating  hyp-  dwelling,  "  My  dwelling  will  be  soon  with 
ocrite,  whose  malignity  resembled  that  of  I  annihilation — my  name  will  live  in  the 
a  paltry  and  second-rate  fiend, — but  Danton  |  Pantheon  of  History."  Camille  Desmou- 
was  a  character  for  Shakspeare  or  .Schiller  ;  lins,  Herault  les  Sechelles,  Fabre  d'Eglan- 
to  have  drawn  in  all  its  broad  lights  and  |  tine,  men  of  considerable  literary  talent,  and 
shades  ;  or  Bruce  could  have  sketched  from  |  amongst  the  few  Jacobins  who  "had  any  real 
him  a  yet  grander  Ras  Michael  than  he  of  '  pretension  to  such  accomplishments,  shared 
Tigre.  His  passions  were  a  hurricane,  his  fate.  Westermann  was  also  numbered 
which,  furious,  regardless,  and  desolating  ;  with  them,  the  same  officer  who  directed 
in  its  course,  had  yet  its  intervals  of  sun-  the  attack  on  the  palace  of  the  Tuilleries 
shine  and  repose.  Neither  good  by  nature,  i  on  10th  August,  and  who  afterwards  was 
nor  just  by  principle  or  political  calcula-  )  distinguished  by  so  many  victories  and 
tion,  men  were  often  surprised  at  finding  i  defeats  in  La  Vendee,  that  he  was  called, 
he  still  possessed  some  feelings  of  generos-  from  his  activity,  the  scourge  of  that  dis- 
ity,  and  some  tendency  even  towards  mag-  '  trict. 
Banimity.     Early  habits  of  profligate  indul    I     Their  accusation  was,  as  in  all  such  cm- 


176 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUOiNAFARTE. 


[Chap,  XVIL 


es  at  the  period,  an  olla  podrida,  if  we  can 
be  allowed  the  expression,  in  which  every 
criminai  ingredient  was  mixed  up  j  but  so 
incoherently  mingled  and  assembled  to- 
gether, so  inconsistent  with  each  other, 
and  so  obscurely  detailed  in  the  charge 
Vid  in  the  proof,  that  it  was  plain  that  ma- 
lignant falsehood  had  made  the  gruel  thick 
and  slab.  Had  Danton  been  condemned 
for  his  real  crimes,  the  doom  ought,  in 
justice,  to  have  involved  judges,  jurors, 
witnesses,  and  most  of  the  spectators  in 
the  court. 

Robespierre  became  much  alarmed  for 
the  issue  of  the  trial.  The  Convention 
showed  reviving  signs  of  spirit;  and  when 
a  revolutionary  deputation  demanded  at  the 
bar,  "  that  death  should  be  the  order  of  the 
day,"  and  reminded  them,  that,  •'  had  they 
granted  the  moderate  demand  of  three  hun- 
dred thousand  heads,  when  requested  by 
the  philanthropic,  and  now  canonized  Ma- 
rat, they  would  have  saved  the  republic  the 
wars  of  La  Vendue,"  they  were  received 
with  discouraging  murmurs.  Tallien,  the 
president,  informed  them,  "that  not  death, 
brt  justice,  was  the  order  of  the  day  ;"  and 
the  petitioners,  notwithstanding  the  patri- 
otic turn  of  their  modest  request,  were 
driven  from  the  bar  with  execrations. 

This  looked  ill ;  but  the  power  of  Robes- 
pierre was  still  predominant  with  the  Rev- 
olutionary Tribunal,  and  after  a  gallant,  and 
unusually  long  defence,  (of  which  no  notice 
was  permitted  to  appear  in  the  Moniteur,) 
Danton  and  his  associates  were  condemn- 
ed, and  carried  to  instant  execution.  They 
maintained  their  firmness,  or  rather  harden- 
edness  of  character,  to  the  last ;  and  when 
Danton  observed  Fabre  d'Eglantme  begin- 
ning to  look  gloomV;  he  cheered  him  with 
a  play  on  words:  •'•'Courage,  my  friend," 
he  said,  in  his  deep,  sullen  tone  of  voice, 
"  we  are  all  about  to  lake  up  your  trade — 
Nous  aUonsfaire  des  vers."  The  sufferers 
on  this  occasion,  were  men  whose  accom- 
plishments and  talents  attracted  a  higher 
degree  of  sympathy,  than  that  which  had 
been  given  to  the  equally  eloquent  but  less 
successful  Girondists.  Even  honest  men 
looked  on  the  fate  of  Danton  with  some  re- 
gret, as  when  a  furious  bull  is  slain  with  a 
slight  blow  by  a  crafty  Tauridor  ;  and  many 
men  of  good  feelings  had  hoped,  that  the 
cause  of  order  and  security  might  at  least 
have  been  benefited  in  some  degree,  by  his 
obtaining  the  victory  in  a  struggle  with 
"Robespierre.  Those,  on  the  other  hand, 
who  followed  the  fortunes  of  the  latter, 
conceived  his  power  had  been  rendered 
permanent,  by  the  overthrow  of  his  last  and 
most  formidable  rival,  and  exalted  in  pro- 
portion. Both  were  deceived  in  their  cal- 
culations The  predominance  of  such  a 
man  as  Danton,  might  possibly  have  pro- 
tracted the  reign  of  Jacobinism,  even  by 
rendering  it  somewhat  more  endurable  ; 
but  the  permanent,  at  least  the  ultimate, 
■access  of  Robespierre,  was  becoming  more 
impossible,  from  the  repeated  decimations 
to  which  his  jealousy  subjected  his  party. 
He  was  like  the  wild  chief.  Lope  d' Aguirre, 
whose   story  is  so  vrcll  told  by  Southey, 


who,  descending  the  great  river  Orellaiu 
with  a  party  of  buccaneers,  cut  off  one 
part  of  his  followers  after  another,  in 
doubt  of  their  fidelity,  until  the  remainder 
saw  no  chance  for  escaping  a  similar  fate, 
unless  by  being  beforehand  with  their  lead- 
er in  murder. 

Alluding  to  Robespierre's  having  been  the 
instrument  of  his  destruction,  Danton  had 
himself  exclaimed,  "  The  cowardly  pol- 
troon !  I  am  the  only  person  who  could  have 
commanded  influence  enough  to  save  him." 
And  the  event  showed  that  he  spoke  with 
the  spirit  of  prophecy  which  the  approach 
of  fate  has  been  sometimes  thought  to 
confer. 

In  fact,  Robespierre  was  much  isolated 
by  the  destruction  of  the  party  of  Hebert, 
and  still  more  by  that  of  Danton  and  his 
followers.  He  had,  so  to  speak,  scarped 
away  the  ground  which  he  occupied,  until 
he  had  scarce  left  himself  standing-room  j 
and,  detested  by  honest  men,  he  had  alien- 
ated, by  his  successive  cruelties,  even  the 
knaves  who  would  otherwise  have  adhered 
to  him  for  their  own  safety.  All  now  look* 
ed  on  him  with  fear,  and  none  dared  hope 
at  the  hands  of  the  Dictator  a  better  booa 
than  that  which  is  promised  to  Outis,  that 
he  should  be  the  last  devoured. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  Robespierre 
conceived  the  idea  of  reversing  the  profan- 
ities of  Chaumette.  Hebert,  and  the  athe- 
ists, by  professing  a  public  belief  in  tLe 
existence  of  a  Deity.  This,  he  conceived, 
would  at  once  be  a  sacrifice  to  public  opin- 
ion, and,  as  he  hoped  to  manage  it,  anew 
and  potent  spring,  to  be  moved  by  his  own 
finger.  In  a  word,  he  seems  to  have  de- 
signed to  unite,  with  his  power  in  the  state, 
the  character  of  High  Pontiff  of  the  new 
faith. 

As  the  organ  of  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety,  Robespierre,  by  a  speech  of  great 
length,  and  extremely  dull,  undertook  the 
conversion  of  the  French  nation  from  infi- 
delity. Upon  all  such  occasions  he  had 
recourse  to  that  gross  flattery,  which  wa« 
his  great,  rarely-failing,  and  almost  sole 
receipt  for  popularity.  He  began  by  -assur- 
ing them,  that,  in  her  lights,  and  the  prog- 
ress of  her  improvement,  France  had  pre- 
ceded the  rest  of  Europe  by  a  march  of  at 
least  two  thousand  years  ;  and  that,  ezisV' 
ing  among  the  ordinary  nations  of  the 
world,  she  appeared  to  belong  to  another 
race  of  beings.  Still  he  thought  some  be- 
lief in  a  Deity  would  do  her  no  harm.  Then 
he  was  ag.iin  hurried  away  by  his  elo- 
quence, of  which  we  cannot  heip  giving  a 
literal  specimen,  to  show  at  how  little  ex- 
pense of  sense,  taste,  or  talent,  a  man  may 
be  held  an  excellent  orator,  and  become 
dictator  of  a  gre.-vt  nation  : — 

•'  Yes,  the  delicious  land  which  we  in- 
habit, and  which  Nature  caresses  with  so 
much  predilection,  is  made  to  be  the  do- 
main of  liberty  and  of  happiness  ;  and  that 
people,  at  once  so  open  to  fee'ing  and  to 
generous  pride,  are  born  for  glory  and  for 
virtue.  O  my  native  country  !  if  fortune  had 
caused  my  birth  in  some  region  remote  from 
thy  shores,  I  would  not  the  less  have  ad- 


Ckap.XVII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


177 


dressed  constant  prayers  to  Heaven  in  thy 
behalf,  and  would  have  wept  over  the  reci- 
tal of  thy  combats  and  thy  virtues.  My 
soul  would  have  followed  with  restless  ar- 
dour every  change  in  this  eventful  Revolu- 
tion— I  would  have  envied  the  lot  of  thy 
natives — of  thy  representatives.  But  I  am 
myself  a  native  of  France — I  am  myself  a 
representative.  Intoxicating  rapture  I — O 
sublime  people,  receive  the  sacrifice  of  my 
entire  being  !  Happy  is  he  who  is  born  in 
the  midst  of  thee  !  More  happy  he  who 
can  lay  down  his  life  for  thy  welfare  !"* 

Such  was  the  language  which  this  great 
demagogue  held  to  the  sublime  people 
whose  lives  he  disposed  of  at  the  rate  of 
fifty  per  day,  regular  task-work  ;  and  who 
were  so  well  protected  in  person  and  prop- 
erty, that  no  man  dared  call  his  hat  his  own. 
or  answer  for  ten  minutes'  space  for  the  se- 
curity of  the  head  that  wore  it.  Much  there 
was,  also,  about  the  rashness  of  the  wor- 
shippers of  Reason,  whose  steps  he  accuses 
of  being  too  premature  in  her  cause — much 
about  England  and  Mr.  Pitt,  who,  he  says 
fasted  on  account  of  the  destruction  of  the 
Catholic  religion  in  France,  as  they  wore 
mourning  for  Capet  and  his  wife.  But  the 
summary  of  this  extraordinary  oration  was 
a.  string  of  decrees,  commencing  with  a  de- 
claration that  the  Republic  of  France  ac- 
knowledged the  existence  of  a  Supreme 
Being,  in  the  precise  form  in  which  the 
■grand  nation  might  have  recognised  the 
government  of  a  co-ordinate  siate.  The 
other  decrees  established  the  nature  of  the 
worship  to  be  rendered  to  the  Great  Being 
whom  these  frail  atoms  had  restored  to  his 
place  in  their  thoughts  ;  and  this  was  to  be 
expressed  by  dedicating  a  day  in  each  de- 
cade to  some  peculiar  and  established  Vir- 
tue, with  hymns  and  processions  in  due 
honour  of  it,  approaching  as  near  to  Pagan- 
ism as  could  well  be  accomplished.  The 
last  decree  appointed  a  fete  to  be  given  in 
honour  of  the  Supreme  Being  himself,  as 
the  nation  might  have  celebrated  by  public 
rejoicings  a  pacitication  with  some  neigh- 
bouring power. 

The  speech  was  received  with  servile  ap- 
plause by  the  Convention.  Couthon,  with 
affected  enthusiasm,  demanded  that  not  on- 
ly the  speech  should  be  published  in  the 
osual  form,  by  supplying  each  member  with 
six  copies,  but  that  the  plan  should  be  trans- 
lated into  all  languages,  and  dispersed 
through  the  universe. 

The  conducting  of  this  heathen  mumme- 
ry, which  was  substituted  for  every  external 
sign  of  rational  devotion,  was  intrusted  to 
the  genius  of  the  painter,  David  ;  and  had 
it  not  been  that  the  daring  blasphemy  of  the 
purpose  threw  a  chill  upon  the  sense  of  rid- 
icule, it  was  scarcely  matched  as  a  masque- 
rade even  by  the  memorable  procession 
conducted  bv  the  notorious  Orator  of  the 


•  V\Tien  we  read  such  mi:>crable  stuff,  and  con- 
sider the  crimes  which  such  oratory  occasioned,  it 
leminds  us  of  the  opinion  of  a  Mahomedau  doctor, 
vbo  assured  Bruce  that  the  Uugial,  ur  .\ntichrist, 
was  to  appear  in  the  form  of  an  a.ss,  and  that  mul- 
titudes were  to  follow  him  to  hell,  attracted  by  the 
' ;  of  his  brayine. 
Vol.  L  H  a 


Human  Race.*  There  was  a  general  mus- 
ter of  all  Paris,  divided  into  bauds  of  young 
women  and  matrons,  and  old  men  and 
youths,  with  oaken  boughs  and  drawn 
swDrds,  and  all  other  emblems  appertaining 
to  their  different  ages.  They  were  preced- 
ed by  the  representatives  of  the  people, 
having  their  hands  full  of  ears  of  corn,  "and 
spices,  and  fruits  ;  while  Robespierre,  their 
president,  clad  in  a  sort  of  purlpe  garment, 
moved  apart  and  alone,  and  played  the  part 
of  Sovereign  Pontiff. 

After  marching  up  and  down  through  the 
streets,  to  the  sound  of  doggrel  hymns,  the 
procession  drew  up  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuilleries,  before  some  fireworks  which  had 
been  prepared,  and  Robespierre  made  a 
speech,  entirely  addressed  to  the  bystanders, 
without  a  word  either  of  prayer  or  invoca- 
tion. His  acknowledgment  of  a  Divinity 
was,  it  seems,  limited  to  a  mere  admission 
in  point  of  fact,  and  involved  no  worship 
of  the  great  Being,  whose  existence  he  at 
length  condescended  to  own.  He  had  no 
sooner  made  his  offering,  than  fire  was  set 
to  some  figures  dressed  up  to  resemble 
Atheism,  Ambition,  Egotism,  and  other  evil 
principles.  The  young  men  then  brandish- 
ed their  weapons,  the  old  patted  them  on 
the  head,  the  girls  flung  about  their  flow- 
ers, and  the  matrons  flourished  aloft  their 
children,  all  as  it  had  been  set  down  -n  Da- 
vid's programme.  And  this  scene  of  mask- 
ing was  to  pass  for  the  repentance  of  a  great 
people  turning  themselves  again  to  ^ne  Dei- 
ty, whose  worship  they  had  forsaken,  and 
whose  being  they  had  denied  ! 

I  will  appeal — not  to  a  sincere  Christian 
— but  to  any  philosopher  forming  such  idea 
of  the  nature  of  the  Deity,  as  even  mere 
unassisted  reason  can  attain  to,  whether 
there  does  not  appear  more  impiety  in  Ro- 
bespierre's mode  of  acknowledging  the  Di- 
vinity, than  in  Hebert's  horrible  avowal  of 
direct  Atheism  ? 

The  procession  did  not,  in  commos 
phrase,  take  with  the  people ;  it  produced 
no  striking  effect — awakened  no  deep  feel- 
ing. By  Catholics  it  was  regarded  with 
horror,  by  wise  men  of  every  or  no  princi- 
ple as  ridiculous  ;  and  there  were  politi- 
cians, who,  under  the  disguise  of  this  re- 
ligious ceremony,  pretended  to  detect  fur- 
ther and  deeper  schemes  of  the  dictator 
Robespierre.  Even  in  the  course  of  the. 
procession,  threats  and  murmurs  had  reach- 
ed his  ears,  which  the  impatient  resentment 
of  the  friends  of  Danton  was  unable  to  sap- 
press  ;  and  he  saw  plainly  that  he  must 
again  betake  himself  to  the  task  of  murder, 
and  dispose  of  Tallien,  Collot  d'Herboie. 
and  others,  as  he  had  done  successively  of 
Hebert  and   Danton   himself,   or   else   his 


*  Poor  Anacharsis  Clooli.  He  had  been  expelled 
from  the  Jacobin  Club  as  a  Prussian,  an  ex-noble, 
and,  what  perhaps  was  not  previously  sospected,  a 
person  of  fortune  enough  to  be  judged  an  ariet» 
crat.  His  real  offence  was  being  a  Hebertist,  anrf 
he  sufferej  accordingly  with  the  leaders  of  thai 
party, — This  note  was  rather  unnecessary  j  bat 
Anacharsis  Clootz  was,  in  point  of  absurdity,  o<k 
of  the  moat  iaimitable  personages  in  the  Bavo|t- 
tioo. 


178 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XVII. 


former  victorieB  would  but  lead  to  his  final 
ruin. 

Meanwhile  the  despot,  whose  looks  made 
even  the  democrats  of  The  Mountain  trem- 
ble, when  directed  upon  them,  shrunk  him- 
self before  the  apprehended  presence  of  a 
young  female.  Cecile  Regnaud,  a  girl,  and, 
as  it  would  seem,  unarmed,  came  to  his 
house  and  demanded  to  see  Robespierre. 
Her  manner  exciting  some  suspicion,  she 
was  seized  upon  by  the  body-guard  of  Jaco- 
bins, who  day  and  night  watched  the  den 
of  the  tyrant,  amidst  riot  and  blasphemy, 
while  he  endeavoured  to  sleep  under  the 
security  of  their  neighbourhood.  When 
the  young  woman  was  brought  before  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal,  she  would  return 
no  answer  to  the  questions  respecting  her 
purpose,  excepting  that  she  wished  to  see 
"what  a  tyrant  was  like."  She  was  con- 
demned to  the  guillotine  of  course  ;  and 
about  sixty  persons  were  executed  as  asso- 
ciates of  a  conspiracy,  which  was  never 
proved,  by  deed  or  word,  to  have  existed  at 
all.  The  victims  were  drawn  at  hazard  out 
of  the  prisons,  where  most  of  them  had 
been  confined  tor  months  previous  to  the 
arrest  of  Cecile  Regnaud,  on  whose  ac- 
count they  were  represented  as  suffering.* 
Many  have  thought  the  crime  entirely  im- 
aginary, and  only  invented  by  Robespierre, 
to  represent  his  person  as  endangered  by 
the  plots  of  the  aristocracy,  and  attach  to 
himself  a  part  at  least  of  the  consequence, 
which  A/arat  had  acquired  by  the  act  oi' 
CharJotte  Corday. 

A  few  weeks  brought  on  a  sterner  en- 
caunter  than  that  of  the  supposed  female 
assassin.  The  Terrorists  were  divided 
among  themselves.  The  chosen  and  an- 
cient bands  of  the  10th  August,  2d  Septem- 
ber, 31th  May,  and  other  remarkable  peri- 
ods of  the  Revolution,  continued  attached 
to  the  Jacobins,  and  the  majority  of  the 
Jacobin  Club  adhered  to  Robespierre  ;  it 
was  there  his  strength  consisted.  On  the 
other  hand,  Tallien,  Barras,  Legendre, 
Fouch^,  and  other  of  the  Mountain  party. 
remembered  Danton,  and  feared  for  a  simi- 
lar fate.  The  Convention  at  large  were 
sure  to  embrace  any  course  which  promised 
to -free  them  from  their  present  thraldom. 

The  people  themselves  were  beginning 
to  be  less  passive.  They  no  longer  saw 
the  train  of  victims  pass  daily  to  the  guillo- 
tine, in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  witli 
stupid  wonder,  or  overwhelming  fear,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  with  the  sullenness  of 
man.'fest  resentment,  that  waited  but  an  op- 
portunity to  display  itself.  The  citizens  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honort-  shut  up  their  shops  at 
the  hours  when  the  fatal  tumbrils  passed 
to  the  scene  of  death,  and  that  whole  q'lar- 
ter  of  the  city  was  covered  with  gloom. 


•This  unlieard-of  iniquity  is  stated  in  the  ro- 
pott  of  th«  committee  appuiiiteJ  to  examine  Ro- 
Iwjpiorre'a  papers,  of  wliieh  Coiirlois  was  thn  re- 
[wrter.  It  is  rather  a  curious  circumstance  that, 
:i!>out  the  time  of  Cecils  Uegnaud's  adventure, 
tlicre  app«are<l,  at  a  ma.-^ktd  ball  at  London,  a 
charttctfif  dressed  like  the  spectre  of  Chai  lotto  Cor- 
day, eo  me,  as  she  said,  to  noek  Kob^pierre,  and 
inflict  oil  hiiD  the  doom  of  Marat. 


These  ominous  feelings  were  observed, 
and  the  fatal  engine  was  removed  to  a  more 
obscure  situation  at  tl;e  Barrier  de  la  Trone, 
near  the  Fauxbourg  Saint  .\ntoine,  to  the 
inhabitants  of  which  it  was  thought  a  daily 
spectacle  of  this  nature  must  be  an  inter- 
esting relief  from  labour.  But  even  the 
people  of  that  turbulent  suburb  had  lost 
some  of  their  Republican  zeal — the  men's 
feelings  were  altered.  They  saw,  indeed, 
blood  stream  in  such  quantities,  that  it  was 
necessary  to  make  an  artificial  conduit  to 
carry  it  off  5  but  they  did  not  feel  that  they, 
or  those  belonging  to  them,  received  any 
advantages  from  the  number  of  victims, 
daily  immolated,  as  they  were  assured,  in 
their  belialf.  The  constant  effusion  of 
blood,  without  plunder  or  license  to  give  it 
zest,  disgusted  them,  as  it  would  have  dis- 
gusted all  but  literal  cannibals,  to  whose 
sustenance,  indeed,  the  Revolutionary  Tri- 
bunal would  have  contributed  plentifully. 

Robespierre  saw  all  this  increasing  un- 
popularity with  much  anxiety.  He  plainly 
perceived  that,  strong  as  its  impulse  was, 
the  stimulus  of  terror  began  to  lose  its  ef- 
fect on  the  popular  mind ;  and  he  resolved 
to  give  it  novelty,  not  by  changing  the 
character  of  his  system,  but  by  varying  the 
mode  of  its  application.  Hitherto,  men 
had  only  been  executed  for  political  crimes, 
although  the  circle  had  been  so  vaguely 
drawn,  and  capable  of  such  extension  when 
desired,  that  the  law  regarding  suspected 
persons  was  alone  capable  of  desolating  a 
whole  country.  But  if  the  penalty  of  death 
were  to  be  inflicted  for  religious  and  moral 
delinquencies,  as  well  as  for  crimes  direct- 
ed against  the  state,  it  would  at  once  throw 
the  lives  of  thousands  at  his  disposal,  upon 
whom  he  could  have  no  ready  hold  on  po- 
litical motives,  and  might  support,  at  the 
same  time,  his  newly  assumed  character  as 
a  reformer  of  manners.  He  would  also 
thus  escape  the  disagreeable  and  embar- 
rassing necessity,  of  drawing  lines  of  dis- 
tinction betwixt  his  own  conduct  and  that 
of  the  old  friends  whom  he  found  it  conven- 
ient to  sacrifice.  He  could  not  say  he  was 
less  a  murderer  than  the  rest  of  his  associ- 
ates, but  he  might  safely  plead  more  exter- 
nal decency  of  morals.  His  own  manners 
had  always  been  reserved  and  austere  ;  and 
what  a  triumph  would  it  have  been,  had  the 
laws  permitted  him  the  benefit  of  slaying 
Danton,  not  under  that  political  character 
which  could  hardly  be  distinguished  from 
his  own,  but  on  account  of  the  gross  pecu- 
lation and  debauchery,  which  none  could 
impute  to  the  austere  and  incorruptible 
Robespierre. 

His  subordinate  agents  began  already  to 
point  to  a  reformation  of  manners.  Payan, 
who  succeeded  Hebert  in  the  important 
station  of  Procureur  to  the  Commune  of  the 
metropolis,  had  already  adopted  a  very  dif- 
ferent line  from  his  predecessor,  whose 
stylo  derived  energy  by  printing  at  full 
length  the  foulest  oaths,  and  most  beastly  ei- 

Fressions,  used  by  the  refuse  of  the  people, 
ayan,  on  the  contrary,  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  Pere  Duchesne,  is  found  gravely  ad 
vising  with  the  Commune  of  Pahs,  »d  a 


Chap.XVII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


179 


plan  of  preventing  the  exposing  licentious 
prints  and  works  to  sale,  to  the  evident 
danger  of  corrupting  the  rising  generation. 
There  exists  aiso  a  curious  address  from 
the  Convention,  which  tends  to  evince  a 
similar  purpose  in  the  framer,  Robespierre. 
The  guilt  of  profane  swearing,  and  of  intro- 
ducing the  sacred  name  into  ordinary 
epeech,  as  an  unmeaning  and  blasphemous 
expletive,  is  severely  censured.  The  us- 
ing indecent  and  vicious  expressions  in 
common  discourse  is  also  touched  up()n  ; 
but  as  this  unbounded  energy  of  speech 
had  been  so  very  lately  one  of  the  most  ac- 
credited marks  of  a  true  .Sans-Culotte,  the 
legislators  were  compelled  to  qualify  their 
censure  by  admitting,  that,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Revolution,  the  vulgar 
mode  of  speaking  bad  been  generally  adopt- 
ed by  patriots,  in  order  to  destroy  the  jar- 
gon employed  by  the  privileged  classes, 
and  to  popularize ,  as  it  was  expressed,  the 
general  language  of  society.  But  these 
ends  bein^  etfected,  the  speech  of  Repub- 
licans ought,  it  is  said,  to  be  simple,  manly, 
ajid  concise,  but  at  the  same  time  free  from 
coarseness  and  violence. 

From  these  indications,  and  the  tenor  of 
a  decree  to  be  hereafter  quoted,  it  seems 
plain  that  Robespierre  was  about  to  affect 
a  new  character,  not,  perhaps,  without  the 
hope  of  finding  a  Puritanic  party  in  France, 
as  favourable  to  his  ambitious  views  as 
that  of  the  Independents  was  to  Cromwell. 
He  might  then  have  added  the  won!  virtue 
to  liberty  and  equality,  which  fonned  the 
national  programme,  and,  doubtless,  would 
have  made  it  the  pretext  of  committing 
additional  crimes.  The  decree  which  we 
allude  to  was  brought  forward  by  the  phi- 
lanthropic Couthon,  who,  with  his  kindness 
of  manner,  rendered  more  impressive  by  a 
silver-toned  voice,  and  an  affectation  of 
extreme  gentleness,  tendered  a  law,  ex- 
tending the  powers  of  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  and  the  penalty  of  death,  not  on- 
ly to  all  sorts  of  persons  who  should  in  any 
manner  of  way  neglect  their  duty  to  the 
Republic,  or  assist  her  enemies,  but  to  the 
following  additional  classes  :  All  who , 
should  have  deceived  the  people,  or  their  I 
representatives — all  who  sliould  have  I 
sought  to  inspire  discouragement  into  good  i 
citizens,  or  to  favour  the  undert;ikiags  of 
tyrants — all  who  should  spread  false  news 
— all  who  should  seek  to  lead  astray  the 
public  opinion,  and  to  prevent  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  people,  or  to  debauch  manners. 
and  corrupi  the  public  conscience  ;  or  who 
should  diminish  the  purity  of  revolutionary 
principles  by  counter-revolutionary  works, 
&.C.  &,c.  &,c. 

It  is  evident,  that  compared  with  a  law 
couched  in  terms  s'o  vague  and  general, 
30  obscure  and  indefinite,  the  description 
of  crimes  concerning  suspected  persons 
was  broad  sunshine;  that  there  wa-s  no 
Frenchman  living  who  might  not  be  brought 
within  the  danqer  ol"  t!ie  decree,  under  one 
or  other  of  those  t-v.eeping  clauses  ;  that  a 
loose  or  careless  expression,  or  the  repeti- 
tion of  an  inaccurate  article  of  news,  might 
!>•  founded  o&   as  corrupting  thu   public 


[  conscience,  or  misleading  the  public  opin- 

I  ion ;  in  short,  that  the  slightest  indulgence 

in  the  most  ordinary  functions  of  speech 

might  be  brought  under  this  comprehensive 

edict,  and  so  cost  the  speaker  his  life. 

The  decree  sounded  like  a  death-knell 
in  the  ears  of  the  Convention.  All  were 
made  sensible  that  another  decimation  of 
the  Legislative  Body  approached ;  and  be- 
held with  terror,  that  no  provision  was 
made  in  the  proposed  law  for  respecting 
the  personal  inviolability  of  the  deputies, 
but  that  the  obnoxious  members  of  the 
Convention,  without  costing  Robespierre 
even  the  formality  of  asking  a  decree  froim 
their  complaisant  brethren,  might  be  trans- 
ferred, like  any  ordinary  individuals,  to  the 
butchery  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal, 
not  only  by  the  medium  of  either  of  the 
committees,  but  at  the  instance  of  the  pub- 
lic prosecutor,  or  even  of  any  of  their  own 
brethren  of  the  Representative  Body,  who 
were  acting  under  a  commission.  Ruamps, 
one  of  the  deputies,  exclaimed  in  accents 
of  despair,  that  if  this  decree  were  resolv- 
ed upon,  the  friends  of  liberty  had  no  other 
course  left  than  to  blow  their  own  brains 
out. 

The  law  passed  for  the  night,  in  spite  of 
all  opposition  ;  but  the  terrified  deputies  re- 
turned to  the  attack  next  day.  The  meas- 
ure was  again  brought  into  debate,  and  the 
question  of  privileges  was  evasively  pro- 
vided for.  At  a  third  sitting  the  theme 
w>is  renewed;  and,  after  much  violence, 
the  fatal  decree  was  carried,  witliout  any  of 
the  clogs  which  had  offended  Robespierre, 
and  he  attained  possession  of  the  fatal 
weapon,  such  as  he  had  originally  forged  it. 

From  this  moment  there  was  mortal 
though  secret  war  betwixt  Robespierre  and 
the  most  distinguished  members  of  the  As- 
sembly, particularly  those  who  had  sate 
with  him  on  the  celebrated  Mountain,  and 
shared  all  tlic  atrocities  of  Jacobinism. 
Collot  d'Herbois,  the  demolisher  of  Lyons, 
and  regenerator  of  Ville  Affranchie,  threw 
his  weight  into  the  scale  against  his  master ;. 
and  several  other  members  of  both  commit- 
tees, which  were  Robespierre's  own  organs, 
began  secretly  to  think  on  means  of  screen- 
ing themselves  from  a  power,  which,  like 
the  huge  Anaconda,  enveloped  in  its  coile, 
and  then  crushed  and  swallowed,  whatever 
came  in  contact  with  it.  The  private  proe- 
ress  of  the  schism  cannot  be  traced ;  but  it 
is  said  that  the  Dictator  found  himself  ui 
a  minority  in  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety,  when  he  demanded  the  head  of 
Fouche,  whom  he  had  accused  as  a  Danton- 
ist  in  the  Convention  and  the  Jacobin  Club. 
It  is  certain  he  had  not  attended  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Committee  for  two  or  three 
weeks  before  his  fall,  leaving  his  interest 
there  to  be  managed  by  Couthon  and  Saint 
Just. 

Feeling  himself  thus  placed  in  the  list-i 
against  his  ancient  friends  the  TerroristK. 
the  astucious  tyrant  endeavoured  to  acquire 
allies  among  the  remains  of  the  Girondists, 
who  had  been  spared  in  contempt  more 
than  clemency,  and  permitted  to  hide 
themselves  among  the  neutral  party  v/\ist. 


idO 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  xvn. 


occupied  the  Plain,  and  who  gave  generally 
'Cbeir  votes  on  the  prudential  system  of  ad- 
hering to  the  stronger  side. 

Finding  little  countenance  from  this  tim- 
id and  long-neglected  part  of  the  Legisla- 
tive Body,  Robespierre  returned  to  his 
more  steady  supporters  in  the  Jacobin  Club. 
Here  he  retained  his  supremacy,  and  was 
heard  with  enthusiastic  applause  ;  while  he 
intimated  to  them  the  defection  of  certain 
members  of  the  legislature  from  the  true 
revolutionary  course  ;  complained  of  the 
inactivity  and  lukewarmness  of  the  Com- 
mittees of  Public  Safety  and  Public  Securi- 
ty, and  described  himself  as  a  persecuted 
patriot,  almost  the  solitary  supporter  of  the 
cause  of  his  country,  and  exposed  for  that 
reason  to  the  blows  of  a  thousand  assassins. 

"  All  patriots,"  exclaimed  Couthon,  "  are 
brothers  and  friends  !  For  my  part,  I  invoke 
on  myself  the  poniuds  destined  against 
Robespierre." 

"  So  do  we  all !"  exclaimed  the  meeting 
unanimously. 

Thus  encouraged,  Robespierre  urged  a 
purification  of  the  Society,  directing  his 
accusations  against  Fouche  and  other  mem- 
bers of  The  Mountain  j  and  he  received 
the  encouragement  he  desired. 

He  next  ascertained  his  strength  among 
the  Judges  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal, 
and  his  willing  agents  among  the  reformed 
Commune  of  Paris,  which,  aJier  the  fall  of 
Hebert  and  Chaumette,  he  had  taken  care 
to  occupy  with  his  most  devoted  friends. 
But  still  he  knew  that,  in  the  storm  which 
was  about  to  arise,  these  out-of-door  dem- 
agogues were  but  a  sort  of  tritons  of  the 
minnows,  compared  to  Tallien,  Fouche, 
Barraa,  CoUot  d'Herbois,  Billaud  V'arennes, 
and  other  deputies  of  distinguished  powers, 
accustomed  to  make  their  voices  heard  and 
obeyed  amid  all  the  roar  of  revolutionary 
tempest.  He  measured  and  remeasured 
hie  force  with  theirs ;  and  for  more  than 
«ix  weeks  avoided  the  combat,  yet  without 
making  any  overtures  for  reconciliation,  in 
■which,  indeed,  neither  party  would  proba- 
Wy  have  trusted  the  other. 

Meantime  the  Dictator's  enemies  had 
also  their  own  ground  on  which  they  could 
engage  advantageously  in  these  skirmishes, 
which  were  to  serve  as  preludes  to  the 
main  and  fatal  conflict.  V'adier,  on  the 
part  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety, 
Iftid  before  the  Convention,  in  a  tone  of 
bitter  Mkliucal  ridicule,  the  history  of  the 
mystical  meetings  and  formation  of  a  reli- 
gious sect  under  Catherine  Theot,  whose 
pretensions  have  been  already  hinted  at. 
No  mention  was  indeed  made  of  Robes- 
pierre, or  of  the  countenance  he  wxs  sup- 
posed to  have  given  to  these  fanatical  in- 
triguers. But  the  fact  of  his  having  done 
BO  was  well  known  ;  and  the  shafts  of  V'a- 
dier were  aimed  with  such  malignant  dex- 
terity, that  while  they  seemed  only  direct- 
ed against  the  mystics  of  whom  he  spoke, 
tiiey  galled  to  the  quick  the  High  Pontiff, 
who  had  80  lately  conducted  the  new  and 
singular  syBtem  of  worship  which  his  influ- 
ence had  been  employed  to  ingraft  upon 
the  genuine  atheism  aatural  to  Jacobinism. 


Robespierre  felt  he  could  not  remaia 
long  in  this  situation — that  there  were  no 
means  of  securing  himself  where  he  stood 
— that  he  must  climb  higher,  or  fall — and 
that  every  moment  in  which  he  supported 
insults  and  endured  menaces  without  mak> 
ing  his  vengeance  felt,  brought  with  i*  a 
diminution  of  his  power.  He  seems  to 
have  hesitated  between  combat  and  flight. 
Among  his  papers,  according  to  the  report 
of  Courtois  who  examined  them,  was  found 
an  obscure  intimation,  that  he  had  acquir- 
ed a  competent  property,  and  entertained 
thoughts  of  retiring  at  the  close  of  his  hor- 
rible career,  after  the  example  of  the  cele- 
brated Sylla.  It  was  a  letter  from  some 
unknown  confidant,  unsigned  and  undated, 
containing  the  following  singular  passage  :— 
"  You  must  employ  all  your  dexterity  to 
escape  from  the  scene  on  which  you  are 
now  once  more  to  appear,  in  order  to  leave 
it  for  ever.  Your  having  attained  the  Pres- 
ident's chair  will  be  but  one  step  to  the 
guillotine,  through  a  rabble  who  will  spit 
upon  you  as  you  pass,  as  they  did  upon 
Egalite.  Since  you  have  collected  a  treas- 
ure sufficient  to  maintain  you  for  a  long 
time,  as  well  as  those  for  whom  you  have 
made  provision,  I  will  expect  you  with 
anxiety,  that  we  may  enjoy  a  hearty  laugh 
together  at  the  expense  of  a  nation  as  cred- 
ulous as  it  is  greedy  of  novelty."  If,  how- 
ever, he  had  really  formed  such  a  plan, 
which  would  not  have  been  inconsistent 
with  his  base  spirit,  the  means  of  accom- 
plishing it  were  probably  never  perfected. 

At  length  hisi  fate  urged  him  on  to  the 
encounter.  Robespierre  descended  to  the 
Convention,  ^yhrtre  he  had  of  late  but  rare- 
ly appeared,  like  the  far  nobler  Dictator  of 
Rome  ;  and  in  his  case  also,  a  band  of  sen- 
ators was  ready  to  poniard  the  tyrant  on  the 
spot,  had  they  not  been  afraid  of  the  pop- 
ularity he  was  supposed  to  enjoy,  and  which 
they  feared  might  render  them  instant  vic- 
tims to  the  revenge  of  the  Jacobins.  The 
speech  which  Robespierre  addressed  to  the 
Convention  was  as  menacing  as  the  first 
distant  rustle  of  the  hurricane,  and  dark  and 
lurid  as  the  eclipse  which  announces  its 
approach.  Anxious  murmurs  had  been 
heard  among  the  populace  who  filled  the 
tribunes,  or  crowded  the  entrances  of  the 
hall  of  the  Convention,  indicating  that  a 
second  31st  of  May  (being  the  day  on 
which  the  Jacobins  proscribed  the  GiroiH 
dists)  was  about  to  witness  a  similar  opera- 
tion. 

The  first  theme  of  the  gloomy  orator  was 
the  display  of  his  own  virtues  and  his  ser- 
vices as  a  patriot,  distinguishing  as  enemies 
to  their  country  all  whoso  opinions  were 
contrary  to  his  own.  He  then  reviewed 
successively  the  various  departments  of  the 
government,  and  loaded  them  in  turn  with 
censure  and  contempt.  He  declaimed 
against  the  supinencss  of  the  Committees 
of  Public  Safety  and  Public  Security,  as  if 
the  guillotine  had  never  been  in  exercise ; 
and  he  accused  the  Committee  of  Finance 
of  having  counter-revoUUionixed  the  reve- 
nues of  the  Republic.  He  enlarged  with 
BO  less  bitterness  on  withdrawing  ue  v^; 


Chap.  XVn.] 


LIFE  or  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


181 


lery-men  (always  violent  Jacobins)  from  | 
Parii,  and  on  the  mode  of  management 
adopted  in  the  conquered  countries  of  Bel- 
gium. It  seemed  as  if  he  wished  to  collect 
within  the  same  lists  all  the  functionaries 
of  the  state,  and  in  the  same  breath  to  utter 
defiance  to  them  all. 

The  usual  honorary  motion  was  made  to 
print  the  discourse  ;  but  then  the  storm  of 
opposition  broke  forth,  and  many  speakers 
vociferously  demanded,  that  before  so  far 
adopting  the  grave  inculpations  which  it 
contained,  the  discourse  should  be  referred 
to  the  two  Committees.  Robespierre,  in 
his  turn,  exclaimed,  that  this  was  subject- 
ing his  speech  to  the  partial  criticism  and 
revision  of  the  very  parties  whom  he  had 
accused.  Exculpations  and  defences  were 
heard  on  all  sides  against  the  charges 
which  had  been  thus  sweepingly  brought 
forward ;  and  there  were  many  deputies 
who  complained  in  no  obscure  terms  of  in- 
dividual tyranny,  and  of  a  conspiracy  on 
foot  to  outlaw  and  murder  such  part  of  the 
Convention  as  might  be  disposed  to  offer 
resistance.  Robespierre  was  but  feebly 
supported,  save  by  Saint  Just,  Couthon,  and 
by  his  own  brother.  After  a  stormy  debate, 
in  which  the  Convention  were  alternately 
ewayed  by  their  fear  and  their  hatred  of 
Robespierre,  the  discourse  was  finally  re- 
ferred to  the  Committees,  instead  of  being 
printed;  and  the  haughty  and  sullen  Dicta- 
tor saw,  in  the  open  slight  thus  put  on  his 
measures  and  opinions,  the  sure  mark  of 
his  approaching  fall. 

He  carried  his  complaints  to  the  Jacobin 
Club,  to  repose,  as  he  expressed  it,  his  pa- 
triotic sorrows  in  their  virtuous  bosoms, 
where  alone  he  hoped  to  find  succour  and 
sympathy.  To  this  partial  audience  he  re- 
newed, in  a  tone  of  yet  greater  audacity, 
the  complaints  with  which  he  had  loaded 
every  branch  of  the  government,  and  the 
Representative  Body  itself.  He  reminded 
those  around  him  of  various  heroic  eras. 
when  their  presence  and  their  pikes  had 
decided  the  votes  of  the  trembling  deputies. 
He  reminded  them  of  their  pristine  actions 
of  revolutionary  vigour — asked  them  if  they 
had  forgot  the  road  to  the  Convention, 
and  concluded  by  pathetically  npsuring 
them,  that  if  they  forsook  him,  "  he  stood 
resigned  to  his  fate  ;  and  they  should  be- 
hold with  what  courage  he  would  drink  the 
fatal  hemlock."  The  artist,  David,  caught 
him  by  the  hand  as  he  closed,  exclainiinij, 
in  rapture  at  his  elocution,  "  I  will  drink  it 
with  thee." 

The  distinguished  painter  has  been  re- 
proached, as  having,  on  the  subsequent  d:iy, 
declined  the  pledge  which  he  seemed  bo 
eagerly  to  embrace.  But  there  were  many 
of  hia  original  opinion,  at  the  time  ho  ex- 
pressed it  80  boldly  ;  and  had  Robespierre 
possessed  either  military  talent^,  or  oven 
decided  courage,  there  was  notliing  to 
have  prevented  him  from  placing  himself 
Uiat  very  night  at  the  head  of  a  desperate 
tnsurrectioQ  of  the  Jacobins  and  their  fol- 
lowers. 

Payaa,  the  succoMor  of  Hebert,  actually 


proposed  that  the  Jacobins  should  instantlr 
march  against  the  two  Committees,  whicL 
Robespierre  charged  with  being  the  focns 
of  the  anti-revolutionary  machinations,  sur- 
prise their  handful  of  guards,  and  stifle  the 
evil  with  which  the  state  was  menaced, 
even  in  the  very  cradle.  This  plan  wa» 
deemed  too  hazardous  to  be  adopted,.,  al- 
though it  was  one  of  those  sudden  and 
master-strokes  of  policy  which  Machiavel 
would  have  recommended.  The  fire  of 
the  Jacobins  spent  itself  in  tumult  and 
threatening,  and  in  expelling  from  the  bo- 
som of  their  society  CoUot  d'Herbois,  TaK 
lien,  and  about  thirty  other  deputies  of  the 
Mountain  party,  whom  they  considered  as 
specially  leagued  to  effect  the  downfall 
of  Robespierre,  and  whom  they  drove  from 
their  society  with  execrations  and  even 
blows. 

CoUot   d'Herbois,   thus   outraged,   went 
straight  from  the  meeting  of  the  Jacobin* 
to  the  place  where  the  Committee  of  Pub- 
lic Safety  was  still  sitting,  in  consultation 
on  the  report  which  they  had  to   make  to 
the    Convention   the    next    day   upon    the 
speech  of  Robespierre.     Saint  Just,  one  of 
their  number,  though   warmly   attached  to 
the    Dictator,  had   been   intrusted  by  th« 
Committee  with  the  delicate  task  of  draw- 
ling up  that  report.     It  was  a  step  towards 
reconciliation  ;  but  the  entrance  of  CoUot 
d'Herbois,  frantic  with  the  insults  he  had 
received,  broke  off  all  hope  of  accommoda- 
tion betwixt  the  friends  of  Danton  and  those 
of  Robespierre.     D'Herbois  exhausted  him- 
.self  in  threats  against  Saint  Just,  Couthon, 
and    their  master,   Robespierre,    and   they 
parted  on  terms  of  mortal  and  avowed  en- 
mity.    Every  exertion  now  was  used  by  the 
associated  conspirators  against  the  power 
of  Robespierre,   to  collect  and    combine 
against  him   the  whole  forces  of  the  Con- 
vention, to  alarm  the  deputies  of  The  Plain 
with  fears  for  themselves,  and  to  awaken 
tlie  rage  of  the  Mountaineers,  against  whose 
throat  the  Dictator  now  waved  the  sword, 
which  their  short-sighted  policy  had  placed 
in  his  hands.     Lists  of  proscribed  deputies 
were  handed  around,  said  to  have  been  cop- 
ied from  the  tablets  of  the  Dictator  :  genu- 
ine or  false,  they  obtained  universail  credit 
and    currency  ;    and   those    whose   namea 
stood  on  the  fatal  scrolls,  engaged  then- 
selves  for  protection  in  tlie  league  against 
their   enemy      The   opinion   that  his  fall 
could  not  be  delayed  now  became  general. 
i      This  sentiment  wa-s  so  commonly  enter- 
1  tained  in  Paris  on  the   9th  Thermidor,  or 
I  '27th  July,  thit  a  herd  of  about  eighty  vic- 
j  tinis,  who  werrj  in  the  .ict  of  being  dragged 
!  to    the    guillotine,   were   nearly  saved   by 
]  means  of  it.    The  people,  in  a  generooa 
'  burst  of  compassion,  began  to  gather  in 
I  crowds,    and   interrupted   the  melancholy 
I  procession,  as  if  the  power  which  presided 
I  over  these  hideous  exhibitions  had  already 
been  deprived   of  energy.     But   the   hoar 
!  was  not  come.    The    vile   Henriot,  con»- 
j  mandant  of  the  National  Guards,  came  np 
I  with  fresh  forces,  and  on   the  day  destined 
I  to  be  the  last  of  bis  own  life,  proved  tbe 


182 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  xvri. 


means  of  carrying  to  execution  this  crowd 
of  unhappy  and  doubtless  innocent  per- 
sons. 

On  this  eventful  day  Robespierre  arrived 
in  the  Convention,  and  beheld  The  Moun- 
tain in  close  array  and  completely  manned, 
while,  as  in  the  case  of  Catiline,  the  beiicli 
on  which  he  himself  was  accustomed  to 
sit,  seemed  purposely  deserted.  Saint  Just, 
Couthon,  Le  13as  (his  brother-in-law,)  and 
the  younger  Robespierre,  were  the  only 
deputies  of  name  who  stood  prepared  to 
support  him.  But  could  he  make  an  effec- 
tual struggle,  he  might  depend  upon  the 
aid  of  the  servile  Barrere,  a  sort  of  Belial 
in  the  Convention,  the  meanest,  yet  not  the 
least  able,  amongst  those  fallen  spirits, 
who,  with  great  adroitness  and  ingenuity, 
as  well  as  wit  and  eloquence,  caught  op- 
portunities as  they  arose,  and  was  eminent- 
ly dexterous  in  being  always  strong  upon 
the  strongest,  and  safe  upon  the  safest  side. 
There  was  a  tolerably  numerous  party 
ready,  in  times  so  dangerous,  to  attach 
themselves  to   Barrere,  as   a   leader  who 

Erofessed  to  guide  them  to  safety  if  not  to 
onour;  and  it  was  the  existence  of  this 
vacillating  and  uncertain  body,  whose  ulti- 
mate motions  could  never  be  calculated 
upon,  which  rendered  it  impossible  to  pre- 
sage with  assurance  the  event  of  any  debate 
in  the  Convention  during  this  dangerous 
period. 

Saint  Just  arose,  in  the  name  of  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety,  to  make,  after 
his  own  manner,  not  theirs,  a  report  on  the 
discourse  of  Robespierre  on  the  previous 
evening.  He  had  begun  a  harangue  in  the 
tone  of  his  patron,  declaring  that,  were  the 
tribune  which  he  occupied  the  Tarpeian 
rock  itself,  he  would  not  the  less,  placed 
aa  he  stood  there,  discharge  the  duties  of  a 
patriot. — ■'  I  am  about,"  he  said,  '•  to  lift 
the  veil." — "  I  tear  it  asunder,"  said  Tal- 
lien,  interrupting  him.  "  The  public  inte- 
rest is  sacrificed  by  individuals,  wlio  come 
hither  to  speak  e.xclusively  in  their  own 
name,  and  conduct  themselves  as  superior 
to  the  whole  Convention."  He  forced 
Saint  Just  from  the  tribune,  and  a  violent 
debate  ensued. 

Billaud  Varennes  called  the  attention  of 
the  Assembly  to  the  sitting  of  the  Jacobin 
Club  on  the  preceding  evening.  He  de- 
clared the  military  force  of  Paris  was  plac- 
ed under  the  command  of  Henriot,  a  traitor 
and  a  parricide,  who  was  ready  to  march 
the  soldiers  whom  he  commanded  against 
the  Convention.  He  denounced  Robes- 
pierre himself  as  a  second  Catiline,  artful 
as  well  as  ambitious,  whose  system  it  had 
beeil  to  nurse  jealousies  and  inflame  dis- 
sensions in  the  Convention,  so  as  to  disu- 
nite parties,  and  even  individuals,  from  each 
other,  attack  them  in  detail,  and  thus  de- 
stroy those  antagonists  separately,  upon 
whose  combined  and  united  strength  he 
dared  not  have  looked. 

The  Convention  echoed  with  applause 
every  violent  expression  of  the  orator,  and 
when  Robespierre  sprung  to  the  tribune, 
his  voice  was  drowned  by  a  general  shout 
of   "Down    with    the    tvrauti"     Tallien 


moved  the  denunciation  of  Robespierre, 
with  the  arrest  of  Henriot,  his  staff-officers, 
and  of  others  connected  wit!)  the  meditated 
violence  on  the  Convention.  He  had  un- 
dertaken to  lead  the  attack  upon  the  tyrant, 
he  said,  and  to  poniard  hiin  in  the  Conven- 
tion itself,  if  tlie  meiubers  did  not  show 
courage  enoegh  to  enforce  the  law  against 
him.  With  these  <vords  he  brandished  an 
unsheathed  poniard,  as  if  about  to  make 
his  purpose  good.  Robespierre  still  strug- 
gled hard  to  obtain  audience,  but  the  tri- 
bune was  adjudged  to  Barrere ;  and  the 
part  taken  against  the  fallen  Dictator  by 
that  versatile  and  self-interested  statesman, 
was  the  most  absolute  sign  that  his  over- 
throw was  irrecoverable.  Torrents  of  invec- 
tive were  now  uttered  from  every  quarter 
of  the  hall,  against  him  whose  single  word 
was  wont  to  hush  it  into  silence. 

The  scene  was  dreadful;  yet  not  without 
its  use  to  those  who  may  be  disposed  to 
look  at  it  as  an  extraordinary  crisis,  in 
which  human  passions  were  brought  so  sin- 
gularly into  collision.  While  the  vaults  of 
the  hall  echoed  with  exclamations  from 
those  who  had  hitherto  been  the  accompli- 
ces, tlie  flatterers,  the  followers,  at  least 
the  timid  and  overawed  assentators  to  the 
dethroned  demagogue — he  himself,  breath- 
less, foaming,  exhausted,  like  the  hunter  of 
classical  antiquity  when  on  the  point  of  be- 
ing overpowered  and  torn  to  pieces  by  his 
own  hounds,  tried  in  vain  to  raise  thos« 
screech-owl  notes,  by  which  the  Conven- 
tion had  formerly  been  terrified  and  put  to 
silence.  He  appealed  for  a  hearing  from 
the  President  of  the  Assembly,  to  the  vari- 
ous parties  of  which  it  was  composed.  Re- 
jected by  the  Mountaineers,  his  former  as- 
sociates, who  now  headed  the  clamour 
against  him,  he  applied  to  the  Girondists, 
few  and  feeble  as  they  were,  and  to  the 
more  numerous  but  equally  helpless  depu- 
ties of  The  Plain,  with  whom  they  shelter- 
ed. The  former  shook  him  from  them  with 
disgust,  the  last  with  horror.  It  was  in 
vain  he  reminded  individuals  that  he  had 
spared  their  lives,  while  at  his  mercy.  Thi» 
might  have  been  applied  to  every  member 
in  the  house  ;  to  every  man  in  France  ;  for 
who  was  it  during  two  years  that  had  lived 
on  other  terms  than  under  Robespierre't 
permission  I  and  deeply  must  he  internally 
nave  regretted  the  clemency,  as  he  might 
term  it,  which  had  left  so  many  with  un- 
gashed  throats  to  bay  at  him.  But  his  agi- 
tated and  repeated  appeals  were  repulsed 
by  some  with  indignation,  by  others  with 
sullen,  or  embarrassed  and  timid  silence. 

A  British  historian  must  say,  that  even 
Robespierre  ought  to  have  been  heard  in  hia 
defence  ;  and  tii.it  such  calmness  would 
have  done  honour  to  the  Convention,  and 
dignified  their  final  sentence  of  condemna- 
tion. As  it  was,  they  no  doubt  treated  the 
guilty  individual  according  to  his  deserts  t 
but  they  fell  short  of  that  regularity  and 
manly  staidness  of  conduct  which  was  du» 
to  themselves  and  to  the  law,  and  which 
would  have  given  to  the  punishment  of  tha 
"demagogue  the  efiect  and  weight  of  a  sol 
emu  and  dclibcratu  sentence,  in  place  of 


Ckap.XVIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


183 


its  seeming  the  result  of  the  hasty  and 
precipitate  seizure  of  a  temporary  advan- 
tage. 

H.oate  was,  however,  necessary,  and  must 
have  appeared  more  so  at  such  a  crisis  than 
perhaps  it  really  was.  Much  must  be  par- 
doned to  the  terrors  of  the  moment,  the 
horrid  character  of  the  culprit,  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  hurrying  to  a  decisive  conclusion. 
We  have  been  told  that  his  last  audible 
words,  contending  against  the  exclamations 
of  hundreds,  and  the  bell  which  the  Presi- 
dent was  ringing  incessantly,  and  uttered  in 
the  highest  tones  which  despair  could  give 
to  a  voice  naturally  shrill  and  discordant, 
dwelt  long  on  the  memory,  and  haunted  the 
dreams,  of  many  who  heard  him  : — "  Presi- 
dent of  assassins,"  he  screamed,  "  for  the 
last  time  I  demand  privilege  of  speech  !" — 
After  this  exertion  his  breath  became  short 
and  faint ;  and  while  he  still  uttered  broken 
murmurs  and  hoarse  ejaculations,  the  mem- 
bers of  The  Mountain  called  out,  that  the 
blood  of  Danton  choked  his  voice. 

The  tumult  was  closed  by  a  decree  of  ar- 
rest against  Robespierre,  his  brother.  Cou- 
thon,  and  Saint  Just ;  Le  Pas  was  included 
on  his  own  motion,  and  indeed  could  scarce 
have  escaped  the  fate  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  though  his  conduct  then,  and  subse- 
quently, showed  more  energy  than  that  of 
others.  Couthon,  hugging  in  his  bosom  the 
spaniel  upon  which  he  was  wont  to  exhaust 
the  overflowing  of  his  affecfed  sensibility, 
appealed  to  his  decrepitude,  and  asked 
whether,  maimed  of  proportion  and  activity 
as  he  was,  he  could  be  suspected  of  nour- 
ishing plans  of  violence  or  ambition. — 
"  Wretch,"  said  Legendre,  '•  thou  hast  the 
strength  of  Hercules  for  the  perpinration 
of  crime."  Dumas,  President  of  the  Rev- 
olutionary Tribunal,  with  Henriot,  Com- 
mandant of  the  National  Guards,  and  oilier 
satellites  of  Robespierre,  were  included  in 
the  doom  of  arrest. 

The  officers  of  the  Legislative  Body  were 
ordered  to  lay  hands  on   Robespierre  ;  but 
such  was  the  terror  of  his   name,  tliat  they 
hesitated  for  some  time  to  obey  ;   and  the 
reluctance  of  their   own  immediate   satel- 
lites afforded  the  Convention  an  indifferent 
omen  of  the  respect  which  was  likely  to  be  ' 
paid  without  doors  to  their  decree  against  | 
this    powerful    demagogue.       Subsequent  i 
events  seemed  for  a   while  to  confirm  the  j 
apprehensions  thus  excited.  j 

The  Convention  had  declared  their  sitting  I 
permanent,  and  had  taken  all  precautions 
for  appealing  for  protection  to  the  large  | 
mass  of  citizens,  who,  wearied  out  by  the  | 
reign  of  Terror,  were  desirous  to  close  it ; 
at  all  hazards.  They  quickly  had  deputa-  I 
tions  from  several  of  the  neighbouring  sec- 
tions, declaring  their  adherence  to  the  Na- 
tional Representatives,  in  who.^e  defenc*;  i 
they  were  arming,  and  (many  undoubtedly  j 
prepared  beforehand)  were  marching  in  all  ' 
naste  to  the  protection  of  the  Convention,  j 
But  they  heard  also  the  less  pleasin':;  li-  I 
dings,  that  Henriot,  having  etfected  the  dis-  ' 
persion  of  those  citizens  who  had  obstrmtt-  '• 
«a,  as  elsewhere  mentioned,  the  execution  i 
of  tlie  eighty  condemned  persons,  and  cou-  ' 


summated  that  final  act  of  murder,  was  ap- 
proaching the  Tuilleries,  where  they  had 
held  their  sitting,  with  a  numerous  staff, 
and  such  of  the  Jacobinical  forces  as  could 
hastily  be  collected. 

Happily  for  the  Convention,  this  com- 
mandant of  the  National  Guards,  on  whoso 
presence  of  mind  and  courage  the  fate  of 
France  perhaps  for  the  moment  depended, 
was  as  stupid  and  cowardly  as  he  was  bru- 
tally ferocious.  He  suffered  himself,  with- 
out resistance,  to  be  arrested  by  a  few  gens 
d'armes,  the  immediate  guards  of  the  Con- 
vention, headed  by  two  of  its  members, 
who  behaved  in  the  emergency  with  equal 
prudence  and  spirit. 

But  fortune,  or  the  demon  whom  he  had 
served,  afforded  Robespierre  another  chance 
for  safety,  perhaps  even  for  empire  ;  for 
moments  which  a  man  of  self-possession 
might  have  employed  for  escape,  one  of 
desperate  courage  might  have  used  for 
victory,  which,  considering  the  divided  and 
extremely  unsettled  state  of  the  capital, 
was  likely  to  be  gained  by  the  boldest  com- 
petitor. 

The  arrested  deputies  had  been  carried 
from  one  prison  to  another,  all  the  jailors  re- 
fusing to  receive  .under  their  official  charge 
Robespierre,  and  those  wlio  had  aided  him 
in  supplying  their  dark  habitations  with  such 
a  tide  of  successive  inhabitants.  At  length 
the  prisoners  were  secured  in  the  office  of 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  But  by 
this  time  all  wai^  in  alarm  amongst  the  Com- 
mune of  Paris,  where  Fleurict  the  Mayor 
and  Payan  the  successor  of  Hebert,  con 
voked  the  civic  body,  despatched  munici 
pal  officers  to  raise  the  city  and  the  Faux- 
bourgs  in  their  name,  and  caused  the  tocsin 
to  be  rung.  Payan  speedily  assembled  a 
force  sufficient  to  liberate  Henriot,  Robes- 
pierre, and  the  other  arrested  deputies,  and 
to  carry  them  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where 
about  two  thousand  men  were  congregated, 
consisting  chiefly  of  artillerymen,  and  of 
insurgents  from  the  suburb  of  Saint  An- 
toine,  who  already  expressed  their  resolu- 
tion of  marcliing  against  the  Convention. 
But  the  selfish  and  cowardly  character  of 
Robespierre  was  unfit  for  such  a  crisis.  He 
appeared  altogether  confounded  and  over- 
whelmed with  what  had  passed  and  wa« 
passing  around  him  ;  and  not  one  of  all  the 
victims  of  tlie  reign  of  Terror  felt  its  disa- 
bling intlurnre  ho  completely  as  he,  the 
Despot  who  had  so  long  directed  its  sway. 
He  had  not,  even  though  the  means  must 
have  been  in  his  power,  the  presence  of 
mind  to  disperse  money  in  considerable 
sums,  which  of  itself  would  not  have  failed 
ti>  insure  the  support  of  the  revolutionary 
rabble. 

Meantime  the  Convention  continued  to 
maintain  the  bold  and  commanding  front 
which  they  had  .so  suddenly  and  critically 
assumed.  Upon  learning  the  escape  of  the 
arrested  deputies,  aad  hearing  of  the  insur- 
rection at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  they  instantly 
passed  a  decree  outlawing  Robespierre  and 
his  a.s.^ociates,  inflicting  a  similar  doom 
upon  the  Mayor  of  Paris,  the  Procureur 
and  other  members  of  the  Commune,  U)4 


184 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XVII. 


charging  twelve  of  their  members,  the 
boldest  who  could  be  selected,  to  proceed 
with  the  armed  force  to  the  execution  of 
the  sentence.  The  drums  of  the  National 
Guards  now  beat  to  arms  in  all  the  sections 
under  authority  of  the  Convention,  while 
the  tocsin  continued  to  summon  assistance 
with  its  iron  voice  to  Robespierre  and  the 
civic  magistrates.  Everything  appeared  to 
threaten  a  violent  catastrophe,  until  it  was 
seen  clearly  that  the  public  voice,  and  es- 
pecially amongst  the  National  Guards,  was 
declaring  itself  generally  against  the  Ter- 
rorists. 

The  Hotel  de  Ville  was  surrounded  by 
about  fifteen  hundred  men,  and  cannon  turn- 
ed upon  the  doors.  The  force  of  the  as- 
sailants was  weakest  in  point  of  number, 
but  their  leaders  were  men  of  spirit,  and 
night  concealed  their  inferiority  offeree. 

The  deputies  commissioned  for  the  pur- 
pose read  the  decree  of  the  Assembly  to 
those  whom  they  found  assembled  in  front 
of  the  city-hall,  and  they  shrunk  from  the 
attempt  of  defending  it,  some  joining  the 
assailants,  others  laying  down  their  arms 
and  dispersing.  Meantime  the  deserted 
group  of  Terrorists  within  conducted  them- 
oelves  like  scorpions,  which,when  surround- 
ed by  a  circle  of  fire,  are  said  to  turn  their 
stings  on  each  other,  and  on  themselves. 
Mutual  and  ferocious  upbraiding  took  place 
among  these  miserable  men.  "  Wretch, 
were  these  the  means  you  promised  to  fur- 
nish 1"  said  Payan  to  Henriot,  whom  he 
found  intoxicated  and  incapable  of  resolu- 
tion or  exertion ;  and  seizing  on  him  as 
he  spoke,  he  precipitated  the  revolutiona- 
ry general  from  a  window.  Henriot  sur- 
vived the  fall  only  to  drag  himself  into  a 
drain,  in  which  he  was  afterwards  discover- 
ed and  orought  out  to  execution.  The 
younger  Robespierre  threw  himself  from 
the  window,  but  had  not  the  good  fortune 
to  perish  on  the  spot.  It  seemed  as  if  even 
the  melancholy  fate  of  suicide,  the  last 
refuge  of  guilt  and  despair,  was  denied  to 
men  who  had  so  long  refused  every  spe- 
cies of  mercy  to  their  fellow-creatures. 
Le  Bas  alone  had  calmness  enough  to  de- 
spatch himself  with  a  pistol-shot.  Saint 
Just,  after  imploring  his  comrades  to  kill 
him,  attempted  his  own  life  with  an  irreso- 
lute hand,  and  failed.  Couthon  lay  beneath 
the  table  brandishing  a  knife,  with  which 
he  repeatedly  wounded  his  bosom,  without 
daring  to  add  force  enough  to  reach  his 
heart.  Their  chief,  Robespierre,  in  an  un- 
successful attempt  to  shoot  himself,  had 
only  inflicted  a  horrible  fracture  on  his  un- 
der-jaw. 

In  this  situation  they  were  found  like 
wolves  in  their  lair,  foul  with  blood,  muti- 
lated, despairing,  and  yet  not  able  to  die. 
Robespierre  lay  on  a  table  in  an  anti-room, 
his  head  supported  by  a  deal-box,  and  his 
hideous  countenance  half  hidden  by  a  bloody 
and  dirty  cloth  bound  round  the  shattered 
eiiin.* 


•  It  did  not  escape  the  minute  observers  of  this 
•eane,  that  he  still  held  in  bis  hand  the  bag  which 
«4  ogot«ined  thQ  fatti  pistol,  and  wfaicb  waa  io- 


The  captives  were  carried  in  triumph  to 
the  Convention,  who,  without  admitting 
them  to  the  bar,  ordered  them,  as  outlaws, 
for  instant  execution.  As  the  fatal  cars 
passed  to  the  guillotine,  those  who  filled 
them  but  especially  Robespierre,  were 
overwhelmed  with  execrations  from  th« 
friends  and  relatives  of  victims  whom  he 
had  sent  on  the  same  melancholy  road. 
The  nature  of  his  previous  wound,  from 
wliicli  the  cloth  had  never  been  removed 
till  the  executioner  tore  it  off,  added  to  the 
torture  of  the  sufferer.  The  shattered  jaw 
dropped,  and  the  wretch  yelled  aloud,  to 
the  horror  of  the  spectators.*  A  masqoe 
taken  from  that  dreadful  head  was  long  ei- 
hibited  in  different  nations  of  Europe,  and 
appalled  the  spectator  by  its  ugliness,  and 
the  mixture  of  fiendish  expression  with  that 
of  bodily  agony. 

Thus  fell  Maximilian  Robespierre,  after 
having  been  the  first  person  in  the  French 
Republic  for  nearly  two  years,  during  which 
time  he  governed  it  upon  the  principles  of 
Nero  or  Caligula.  His  elevation  to  the  sit- 
nation  which  he  held  involved  more  con- 
tradictions than  perhaps  attach  to  any  sim- 
ilar event  in  history.  A  low-born  and  low- 
minded  tyrant  was  permitted  to  rule  with 
the  rod  of  the  most  frightful  despotism  a 
people,  whose  anxiety  for  liberty  had  short- 
ly before  rendered  them  unable  to  endure 
the  rule  of  a  humane  and  lawful  sovereign. 
A  dastardly  coward  arose  to  the  command 
of  one  of  the  bravest  nations  in  the  world  ; 
and  it  was  under  the  auspices  of  a  man  who 
dared  scarce  fire  a  pistol,  that  the  greatest 
generals  in  France  began  their  careers  of 
conquest.  He  had  neither  eloquence  nor 
imagination  ;  but  substituted  in  their  stead  a 
miserable,  atTocted,  bombastic  style,  which, 
until  other  circumstances  gave  him  conse- 
quence, drew  on  him  general  ridicule.  Yet 
against  so  poor  an  orator,  all  the  eloquence 
of  the  philosophical  Girondists,  all  the  ter- 
rible power  of  his  associate  Danton,  em- 
ployed in  a  popular  assembly,  could  not  en- 
able them  to  make  an  effectual  resistance. 
It  may  seem  trifling  to  mention,  that  in  a 
nation  where  a  good  deal  of  prepossession  ia 
excited  by  amiable  manners  and  beauty  of 
external  appearance,  the  person  who  ascend- 
ed to  the  highest  power  was  not  only  ill- 
locking,  but  singularly  mean  in  person, 
awkward  and  constrained  in  his  address, 
ignorant  how  to  set  about  pleasing  even 
when  he  most  desired  to  give  pleasure,  and 
as  tiresome  nearly  as  he  was  odious  aad 
heartless. 

To  compensate  all  these  deficiencies, 
Robespierre  had  but  an  insatiable  ambition, 
founded  on  a  vanity  which  made  him  think 
himself  capable  of  filling  the  highest  sitna- 
tion  ;  and  therefore  gave  him  daring,  when 
to  dare  is  frequently  to  achieve.  He  mix- 
ed a  false  and  overstrained,  but  rather  flo- 


scribcd  with  the  words  Jiu  grand  Monarque,  al- 
lulling  to  the  sign,  doubtless  of  the  gunsmith  who 
sold  the  weapon,  but  singularly  applicable  to  ii» 
high  pretensions  of  the  purchaser. 

*  The  fate  of  no  tyrant  in  story  was  so  faideotuat 
the  conclusion,  excepting  perhaps  that  of  f\ifm- 
tha. 


Chap.  XVII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


185 


ent  species  of  bombastic  composition,  with 
the  grossest  flattery  to  the  lowest  classes 
of  the  people  J  in  consideration  of  which, 
they  could  not  but  receive  as  genuine  the 
praises  which  he  already  bestowed  on  him- 
self. His  prudent  resolution  to  be  satisfied 
with  possessing  the  essence  of  power,  with- 
out seeming  to  desire  its  rank  and  trappings, 
formed  another  art  of  cajoling  the  multi- 
tude. His  watchful  envy,  his  long-protract- 
ed but  sure  revenge,  his  craft,  which  to  vul- 
gar minds  supplies  the  place  of  wisdom, 
were  his  only  means  of  competing  with  his 
distinguished  antagonists.  And  it  seems  to 
have  been  a  merited  punishment  of  the  ex- 
travagancies and  abuses  of  the  French  Rev- 
olution, that  it  engaged  the  country  in  a  state 
of  anarchy  which  permitted  a  wretch  such  as 
we  have  described,  to  be  for  a  long  period 
master  of  her  destiny.  Blood  was  his  ele- 
ment, like  that  of  the  other  Terrorists,  and  he 
never  fastened  with  so  much  pleasure  on  a 
new  victim,  as  when  he  was  at  the  same 
time  an  ancient  associate.  In  an  epitaph, 
of  which  the  following  couplet  may  serve 
as  a  translation,  his  life  was  represented  as 
incompatible  with  the  existence  of  the  hu- 
man race  :  — 

'•  Here  lies  Robespierre — let  no  tear  be  shed  : 
Header,  if  he  had  lived,  thou  hads>t  been  dead." 

When  the  report  of  Robespierre's  crimes 
was  brought  to  the  Convention,  in  which  he 
is  most  justly  charged  with  the  intention  of 
possessing  himself  of  the  government,  the 
inconsistent  accusation  is  idded,  that  he 
plotted  to  restore  the  Bourbons ;  in  support 
of  which  it  is  alleged  that  a  seal,  bearing 
a  fleur-de-lis,  was  found  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville.  Not  even  the  crimes  of  Robespierre 
were  thought  sufficiently  atrocious,  with- 
out their  being  mingled  with  a  tendency  to 
Royalism  1 

With  this  celebrated  demagogue  the 
reign  of  Terror  may  be  said  to  have  termi- 
nated, although  those  by  whose  agency  the 
tyrant  fell  were  as  much  Terrorists  ashim- 
eelf,  being,  indeed,  the  principal  members 
of  the  very  Committees  of  Public  Safety 
and  Public  Security,  who  had  been  his  col- 
leagues in  all  the  excesses  of  his  revolu- 
tionary authority.  Among  the  Thermido- 
riens,  as  the  actors  in  Robespierre's  down- 
fall termed  themselves,  there  were  names 
almost  as  dreadful  as  that  of  the  Dictator, 
for  whom  the  ninth  Thermidor  proved  the 
Ides  of  March.  What  could  be  hoped  for 
from  CoUot  d'Herbois,  the  butcher  of  the 
Lyonnoise— what  from  Billaud  Varennes— 
what  from  Barras,  who  had  directed  the  ex- 
ecutions at  Marseilles  after  its  ephemeral 
revolt— what  from  Tallien,  whose  arms 
were  afterwards  dyed  double  red,  from  fin- 
ger-nails to  elbow,  in  the  blood  of  the  un- 
fortunate emigrant  gentlemen  who  were 
made  prisoners  at  Quiberon  ?  It  seemed 
that  only  a  new  set  of  Septembrisers  had 
succeeded,  and  that  the  same  horrible  prin- 
ciples would  continue  to  be  the  moving 
•pring  of  the  government,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  other  chiefs  indeed,  but  men  who 
Were  scarce  less  familiar  with  its  horrors, 
than  was  the  departed  tyrant. 


Men  looked  hopelessly  towards  the  Con- 
vention, long  rather  like  the  corpse  of  a 
legislative  assembly,  actuated,  during  ita 
apparent  activity,  like  the  supposed  Vam- 
pire, by  an  internal  spirit  not  its  own,  which 
urged  it  to  go  forth  and  drink  blood,  but 
which,  deserted  by  the  animating  demon, 
must,  it  was  to  be  expected,  sink  to  th» 
ground  in  helpless  incapacity.  What  could 
be  expected  from  Barrere,  the  ready  pane- 
gyrist of  Robespierre,  the  tool  who  was 
ever  ready  to  show  to  the  weak  and  ths 
timid  the  exact  point  where  their  safety  rec- 
ommended to  them  to  join  the  ranks  of  the 
wicked  and  the  strong  ?  But  in  spite  of 
these  discouraging  circumstances,  the  feel- 
ings of  humanity,  and  a  spirit  of  self-pro- 
tection, dictating  a  determined  resistance 
to  the  renovation  of  the  horrid  system  un- 
der which  the  country  had  so  long  suffered, 
began  to  show  itself  both  in  the  Convention 
and  without  doors.  Encouraged  by  the 
fall  of  Robespierre,  complaints  poured  in 
against  his  agents  on  all  sides.  Lei>on  wa» 
accused  before  the  Convention  by  a  depu- 
tation from  Cambrai ;  and  as  he  ascended 
the  Tribune  to  put  himself  on  his  defence, 
he  was  generally  hailed  as  the  hangman  of 
Robespierre.  The  monster's  impudence 
supported  him  in  a  sort  of  defence  ;  and 
when  it  was  objected  to  him  that  he  had 
had  the  common  executioner  to  dine  in 
company  with  him,  he  answered,  "  That 
delicate  people  might  think  tl^at  wrong; 
but  Lequinio  (another  Jacobin  proconsul 
of  horrible  celebrity)  had  made  the  same 
useful  citizen  the  companion  of  his  leisure, 
and  hours  of  relaxation."  He  acknowledg- 
ed with  the  same  equanimity,  that  an  aris- 
tocrat being  condemned  to  the  guillotine, 
he  kept  him  lying  in  the  usual  posture  up- 
on his  back,  with  his  eyes  turned  up  to  the 
axe,  which  was  suspended  above  his  throat, 
— in  short,  m  all  the  agonies  which  can 
agitate  the  human  mind,  when  within  an 
hair's  breadth  of  the  distance  of  the  great 
separation  between  Time  and  Eternity, — 
until  he  had  read  to  him,  at  length,  the  Ga- 
zette which  had  just  arrived,  giving  an  ac 
count  of  a  victory  gained  by  the  Republic- 
an armies.  This  monster,  with  Heron, 
Rossignol,  and  other  agents  of  terror  more 
immediately  connected  with  Piobespierre, 
were  ordered  for  arrest,  and  shortly  after 
for  execution.  Tallien  and  Barras  would 
have  here  paused  in  the  retrospect ;  but 
similar  accusations  now  began  to  pour  in 
from  every  quarter,  and  when  once  stated, 
were  such  as  commanded  public  attention 
in  the  most  forcible  manner.  Those  who 
invoked  vengeance,  backed  the  solicita- 
tions of  each  other — the  general  voice  of 
mankind  was  with  them  ;  and  leaders  who 
had  shared  the  excesses  of  the  Reign  of 
Terror,  Thermidoriens  as  they  wer"  began 
to  see  some  danger  of  being  themselves 
buried  in  the  ruins  of  the  power  which  they 
had  overthrown. 

Tallien,  who  is  supposed  to  have  taken 
the  lead  in  the  extremely  difficult  naviga- 
tion which  lay  before  the  vessel  of  the 
state,  seems  to  have  'experienced  a  change 
°n  his  own  sentiments,  at  least  nis  princi 


JS6 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


\Chap.  XVJL 


pies  of  action,  inclining  liim  to  the  cause 
of  humanity.  He  was  also,  it  is  said,  urged 
to  so  favourable  a  modification  of  feelings 
by  his  newly  married  wife,  formerly  Ma- 
dame Fontenai,  who,  bred  a  royalist,  had 
herself  been  a  victim  to  the  law  of  suspi- 
cion, and  was  released  from  a  prison  to  re- 
ceive the  hand,  and  influence  the  activity, 
of  the  republican  statesman.  Barras,  who, 
as  commanding  the  armed  force,  might  be 
termed  the  hero  of  the  9th  Thermidor,  was 
supposed  to  be  also  inclined  towards  hu- 
manity and  moderation. 

Thus  disposed  to  destroy  the  monstrous 
system  which  had  taken  root  in  France, 
and  which  indeed,  in  the  increasing  impa- 
tience of  the  country,  they  would  have 
found  it  impossible  to  maintain,  Tallien 
and  Barras  had  to  struggle,  at  the  same 
time,  to  diminish  and  restrict  the  general 
demand  for  revenge,  at  a  time  when,  if 
past  tyranny  was  to  be  strictly  inquired  into 
and  punished,  the  doom,  as  Carrier  himself 
told  them,  would  have  involved  everything 
in  the  Convention,  excepting  perhaps  the 
President's  bell  and  his  arm-chair.  So 
powerful  were  these  feelings  of  resisting  a 
retrospect,  that  the  Thermidoriens  declin- 
ed to  support  Le  Cointre  in  bringing  for- 
ward a  general  charge  of  inculpation  against 
the  two  Committees  of  Public  Safety  and 
Public  Security,  in  which  accusation,  not- 
withstanding their  ultimate  quarrel  with 
Robespierre,  he  showed  their  intimate  con- 
nexion with  him,  and  their  joint  agency  in 
all  which  bad  been  imputed  to  him  as  guilt. 
But  the  time  was  not  mature  for  hazarding 
euch  a  general  accusation,  and  it  was  re- 
jected by  the  Convention  with  marks  of 
extreme  displeasure. 

Still,  However,  the  general  voice  of  hu- 
manity demanded  some  farther  atonement 
for  two  years  of  outrage,  ar.d  to  satisfy  this 
demand,  the  Thermidoriens  set  themselves 
to  seek  victims  connected  more  immedi- 
ately with  Robespierre  ;  while  they  endeav- 
oured gradually  to  form  a  party,  which, 
setting  out  upon  a  principle  of  amnesty,  and 
oblivion  of  the  past,  should  in  future  pay 
some  regard  to  that  preservation  of  the 
lives  and  property  of  the  governed,  which, 
in  every  other  system  saving  that  which 
had  been  just  overthrown  in  France,  is  re- 
garded as  the  principal  end  of  civil  govern- 
ment. With  a  view  to  the  consolidation  of 
such  a  party,  the  restrictions  of  the  press 
were  removed,  and  men  of  talent  and  liter- 
ature, silenced  during  the  reign  of  Robes- 
pierre, were  once  more  admitted  to  exer- 
cise their  natural  influence  in  favour  of 
civil  order  and  religion.  Marmontel,  La 
Harpe,  and  others,  who,  in  their  youth,  had 
been  enrolled  in  the  list  of  Voltaire's  dis- 
ciples, and  amongst  the  infidels  of  the  En- 
cyclopedie,  now  made  amends  for  their 
youthful  errors,  by  exerting  themselves  in 
the  cause  of  good  morals,  and  of  a  regulated 
government. 

At  length  followed  that  general  and  long- 
desired  measure,  which  gave  liberty  to  so 
many  thousands,  by  suspending  tlie  law  de- 
nouncing suspected  persons,  and  empty- 
ing at  once  of  their  inhabitants  the  pris- 


ons, which  had  hitherto  only  transmitted 
them  to  the  guillotine.  The  tales  which 
these  victims  of  Jacobinism  had  to  repeat, 
when  revealing  the  secrets  ol  their  prison- 
house,  together  with  the  moral  influence 
produced  by  such  an  universal  gaol  delive- 
ry, and  the  reunion  which  it  efiected 
amongst  friends  and  relations  that  had 
been  so  long  separated,  tended  greatly  to 
strengthen  the  hands  of  tlie  Thermidoriens, 
who  still  boasted  of  that  name,  and  to  con- 
solidate a  rational  and  moderate  party,  both 
in  the  capital  and  provinces.  It  is,  how- 
ever, by  no  means  to  be  wondered  at,  that 
the  liberated  sufferers  showed  a  disposition 
to  exercise  retribution  in  a  degree  which 
their  liberators  trembled  to  indulge,  lest 
it  might  have  recoiled  upon  themselves. 
Still  both  parties  united  against  the  remains 
of  the  Jacobins. 

A  singular  and  melancholy  species  of 
force  supported  these  movements  towards 
civilization  and  order.  It  was  levied 
among  the  orphans  and  youthful  friends  of 
those  who  had  fallen  under  the  fatal  guillo- 
tine, and  amounted  in  number  to  two  or 
three  thousand  young  men,  who  acted  in 
concert,  were  distinguished  by  black  col- 
lars, and  by  their  hair  being  plaited  and 
turned  up  a  la  victime,  as  prepared  for  the 
guillotine.  This  costume  was  adopted  in 
memory  of  the  principle  of  mourning  on 
which  they  were  associated.  These  volun- 
teers were  not  regularly  armed  or  disci- 
plined, but  formed  a  sort  of  free  corps,  who 
opposed  themselves  readily  and  eflfectually 
to  the  Jacobins,  when  they  attempted  their 
ordinary  revolutionary  tactics  of  exciting 
partial  insurrections,  and  intimidating  the 
orderly  citizens  by  shouts  and  violence. 
Many  scuffles  took  place  betwixt  the  par- 
ties, with  various  success ;  but  ultimately 
the  spirit  and  courage  of  the  young  Aven- 
gers seemed  to  give  them  daily  a  more  de- 
cided superiority.  The  Jacobins  dared  not 
show  themselves,  that  is,  to  avouch  their 
principles,  either  at  the  places  of  public 
amusement,  or  in  the  Palais  Royal,  or  the 
Tuilleries,  all  of  which  had  formerly  wit- 
nessed their  victories.  Their  assemblies 
now  took  place  under  some  appearance  of 
secrecy,  and  were  held  in  remote  streets^ 
and  with  such  marks  of  diminished  audaci- 
ty as  augured  that  the  spirit  of  the  party 
was  crestfallen. 

Still,  however,  the  Jacobin  party  possess- 
ed dreadful  leaders  in  Billaud  Varennes 
and  Collot  d'Herbois,  who  repeatedly  at- 
tempted to  awaken  its  terrific  energy. 
These  demagogues  had  joined,  indeed,  in 
the  struggle  against  Robespierre,  but  it  was 
with  the  expectation  that  an  Amurath  was 
to  succeed  an  Amurath — a  Jacobin  a  Jaco- 
bin— not  for  the  purpose  of  relaxing  the 
reins  of  the  revolutionary  government,  far 
less  changing  its  character.  These  veteran 
revolutionists  must  be  considered  as  sepa- 
rate from  those  who  called  themselves 
Thermidoriens,  though  they  lent  their  as- 
sistance to  the  revolution  on  the  9th  Ther- 
midor. They  viewed  as  deserters  and  apos- 
tates Legendre,  Le  Cointre,  and  others, 
above  all  Tallien  and   Barras,  who,  in  the 


Chap.  XVIl] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


187 


*ull  height  of  their  career,  had  paused  to 
take  breath,  and  were  now  endeavouring 
to  shape  a  course  so  different  from  tliat 
which  they  had  hitherto  pursued. 

These  genuine  Sans-Culottes  endeavour- 
ed to  rest  their  own  power  and  popularity 
upon  the  same  basis  as  formerly.  They 
re-opened  the  sittings  of  the  Jacobin  Club, 
shut  up  on  the  9th  Therinidor.  This  an- 
cient revolutionary  cavern  again  heard  its 
roof  resound  with  denunciations,  by  which 
Vadier,  Billaud  Varrennes,  and  others,  de- 
voted to  the  infernal  deities  Le  Cointre, 
and  those,  who,  they  complained,  wished 
to  involve  all  honest  Republicans  in  the 
charges  brought  against  Robespierre  and 
his  friends.  Those  threats,  however,  were 
no  longer  rapidly  followed  by  the  thunder- 
bolts which  used  to  attend  such  flashes  of 
Jacobin  eloquence.  Men's  homes  were 
now  in  comparison  safe.  A  man  might  be 
named  in  a  Jacobin  Club  as  an  Aristocrat,  or 
a  Moderate,  and  yet  live.  In  fact,  the  dem- 
agogues were  more  anxious  to  secure  im- 
munity for  their  past  crimes,  than  at  present 
to  incur  new  censure.  The  tide  of  general 
opinion  was  flowing  strongly  against  them, 
and  a  single  incident  increased  its  power, 
and  rendered  it  irresistible. 

The  Parisians  had  naturally  enough  im- 
agined, that  the  provinces  could  have  no 
instances  of  Jacobinical  cruelty  and  mis- 
rule to  describe,  more  tragic  and  appalling 
than  the  numerous  executions  which  the 
capital  had  exhibited  every  day.  But  the 
arrival  of  eighty  prisoners,  citizens  of  Nan- 
tes, charged  with  the  usual  imputations 
cast  upon  suspected  persons,  undeceived 
them.  Th  :se  captives  had  been  sent,  for 
the  purpose  of  being  tried  at  Paris  before 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  Fortunately, 
they  did  not  arrive  till  after  Robespierre's 
fall,  and  consequently  when  they  were 
looked  upon  rather  as  oppressed  persons 
than  as  criminals,  and  were  listened  to 
more  as  accusers  of  those  by  whom  they 
were  persecuted,  than  as  cul^jrits  on  their 
defence. 

It  was  then  that  the  metropolis  first 
heard  of  horrors  which  we  have  formerly 
barely  hinted  at.  It  was  then  they  were 
told  of  crowds  of  citizens,  most  of  whom 
had  been  favourable  to  the  republican  order 
of  things,  and  had  borne  arnis  against  the 
Vendeans  in  their  attack  upon  Nantes; 
men  accused  upon  grounds  equally  slight, 
and  incapable  of  proof,  h,aving  been  piled 
together  in  dungeons,  where  the  air  was 
pestilential  from  ordure,  from  the  carcases 
of  the  dead,  and  the  infectious  diseases 
of  the  dying.  It  was  then  they  heard  of 
Republican  baptism  and  Republican  m.ar- 
riages — of  men,  women,  and  children 
sprawling  together,  like  toads  and  frogs  in 
the  season  of  spring,  in  the  waters  of  the 
Loire,  too  shallow  to  afford  them  instant 
death.  It  was  then  they  heard  of  an  hun- 
dred other  abominations — how  those  upper- 
most upon  the  expiring  mass  prayed  to  be 
thrust  into  the  deeper  water,  that  they 
might  have  the  moans  of  death — and  of 
much  more  that  humanity  forbears  to  detail ; 
but  in  regard  to  which,  tlie  »>'"*"•  "".IHen, 


and  sure  blow  of  the  Parisian   guillotine 
was  clemency. 

This  tale  of  horrors  could  not  be  endured ; 
and  the  point  of  immediate  collision  be- 
tween the  Thermidoriens,  compelled  and 
drvien  onward  by  the  public  voice  and  feel- 
ing, and  the  remnant  of  the  old  Jacobin  fac- 
tion, became  the  accusation  of  Carrier,  the 
commissioiied  deputy  under  whom  these 
unheard  of  horrors  had  been  perpetrated 
Vengeance  on  the  head  of  this  wretch  waa 
so  loudly  demanded,  that  it  could  not  bo 
denied  even  by  those  influential  personB, 
who,  themselves  deeply  interested  in  pre- 
venting recrimination,  would  willingly 
have  drawn  a  veil  over  the  past.  Through 
the  whole  impeachment  and  defence,  the 
Thermidoriens  stood  on  the  most  delicate 
and  embarrassing  ground  ;  for  horrid  as  his 
actions  were,  he  had  in  general  their  own 
authority  to  plead  for  them.  For  example, 
a  letter  was  produced  with  these  directions 
to  General  Haxo — "  It  is  my  plan  to  carry 
off  from  that  accursed  country  all  manner 
of  subsistence  or  provisions  for  man  or 
beast,  all  forage — in  a  word,  everything — 
give  the  buildings  to  the  flames,  and  exter- 
minate the  whole  inhabitants.  Oppose 
their  being  relieved  by  a  single  grain  of 
corn  for  their  subsistence.  I  give  thee 
the  most  positive,  most  imperious  order. 
Thou  art  answerable  for  the  execution 
from  this  moment.  In  a  word,  leave 
nothing  in  that  proscribed  country — let 
the  means  of  subsistence,  provisions,  for- 
age, everything— absolutely  everything,  be 
removed  to  Nantes."  The  representatives 
of  the  French  nation  heard  with  horror 
such  a  fiendish  commission  ;  but  with  what 
sense  of  shame  and  abasement  must  they 
have  listened  to  Carrier's  defence,  in  which 
he  proved  he  was  only  literally  executing 
the  decrees  of  the  very  Convention  which 
was  now  inquiring  into  his  conduct  !  A  lu- 
natic, who,  in  a  lucid  moment,  hears  some 
one  recount  the  crimes  and  cruelties  he 
committed  in  his  frenzy,  might  perhaps  en- 
ter into  their  feelings.  They  were  not  the 
less  obliged  to  continue  the  inquiry,  fraught 
as  it  was  with  circumstances  so  disgrace- 
ful to  themselves  ;  and  Carrier's  impeach- 
ment and  conviction  proved  the  point  on 
which  the  Thermidoriens,  and  those  who 
continued  to  entertain  tbe  violent  popular 
opinions,  were  now  ,at  is?ue. 

The  atrocious  Carrier  v/as  taken  under 
the  avowed  protection  of  the  Jacobin  Club, 
before  which  audience  he  made  out  a  case 
which  was  heard  with  applause.  He  ac- 
knowledged his  enormities,  and  pleaded  his 
patriotic  zeal ;  ridiculed  the  delicacy  of 
those  who  cared  whether  an  aristocrat  died 
by  a  single  blow,  or  a  protracted  death; 
was  cncou'.iged  tlirougliout  by  acclama- 
tions, and  received  assurances  of  protec- 
tion from  the  remnant  of  that  once  formida- 
ble association.  But  their  magic  influ- 
ence was  dissolved — their  best  orators  had 
fallen  successively  by  each  other's  im- 
peachment— and  of  their  mott  active  ruf- 
fians, some  had  been  killed  or  executed, 
some  had  fled,  or  lay  ■concealed,  many  were 
in  custody,  and  the  rest  had  become  intimi- 


1S8 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOJN  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XVIL 


dated.  Scarce  a  man  who  had  signalized 
himself  in  the  French  Revolution,  but  had 
enjoyed  ihe  applause  of  these  demagogues, 
as  versatile  in  personal  attachments,  as 
steady  in  their  execrable  principles — scarce 
one  whom  they  had  not  been  active  in  sac- 
rificing. 

Nevertheless,  those  members  of  the 
Revolutionary  Committees,  who  had  so 
lately  lent  their  aid  to  dethrone  Robespierre, 
the  last  idol  of  the  Society,  ventured  to 
invoke  them  in  their  own  defence,  and 
that  of  their  late  agents.  Billaud  Varen- 
nes,  addressing  the  Jacobins,  spoke  of  the 
Convention  as  men  spared  by  their  clemen- 
cy during  the  reign  of  Robespierre,  who 
novr  rewarded  the  Mountain  deputies  by 
terming  them  men  of  Blood,  and  by  seek- 
ing the  death  of  those  worthy  patriots,  Jo- 
seph Lebon  and  Carrier,  who  were  about 
to  fall  under  their  counter-revolutionary 
violence.  These  excellent  citizens,  he  said, 
■were  persecuted,  merely  because  their 
seal  for  the  Republic  had  been  somewhat 
ardent — their  forms  of  proceeding  a  little 
rash  and  severe.  He  invoked  the  awaking 
of  the  Lion — a  new  revolutionary  rising  of 
the  people,  to  tear  the  limbs  and  drink  the 
blood — (these  were  the  very  words) — of 
those  who  had  dared  to  beard  them.  The 
meeting  dispersed  with  shouts,  and  vows 
to  answer  to  the  halloo  of  their  leaders. 

But  the  opposite  party  had  learned  that 
such  menaces  were  to  be  met  otherwise 
than  by  merely  awaiting  the  issue,  and 
then  trying  the  force  of  remonstrances,  or 
^e  protection  of  the  law,  with  those  to 
whom  the  stronger  force  is  the  only  satisfy- 
ing reason. 

Well  organized,  and  directed  by  military 
oflScers  in  many  instances,  large  bands  of 
Anti-jacobins,  as  we  may  venture  to  call 
the  volunteer  force  already  mentioned,  ap- 
peared in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  suburbs, 
and  kept  in  check  those  from  whom  the 
Mother  Club  expected  its  strongest  aid; 
while  the  main  body  of  the  young  Avengers 
marched  down  upon  the  citadel  of  the  ene- 
my, and  invested  the  Jacobin  Club  itself 
in  the  midst  of  its  sitting.  These  dema- 
gogues made  but  a  wretched  defence  when 
attacked  by  that  species  of  popular  violence, 
which  they  had  always  considered  as  their 
own  especial  weapon  ;  and  the  facility 
with  which  they  were  dispersed  amid  ridi- 
cule and  ignominy,  served  to  show  how 
easily,  on  former  occasions,  the  mutual  un- 
derstanding and  spirited  exertion  of  well- 
disposed  men  could  have  at  any  time  pre- 
vented criminal  violence  from  obtaining 
the  mastery.  Had  La  Fayette  marched 
against  and  shut  up  the  Jacobin  Club,  the 
world  would  have  been  spared  many  hor- 
rors, and  in  all  probability  he  would  have 
found  the  task  as  easy  as  it  proved  to  those 
bandn  of  incensed  young  men. — It  must  be 
mentioned,  though  the  recital  is  almost  un- 
worthy of  history,  that  the  female  Jacobins 
came  to  rally  and  assist  their  male  asso- 
ciates, and  that  several  of  them  were  seized 
opon  and  punished  in  a  manner,  which 
might  excellently  suit  their  merits,  but 
wluch  shows  that  the  young  associates  for 


maintaining  order  were  not  suiEciently 
aristocratic  to  be  under  the  absolute  re- 
straints imposed  by  the  rules  of  chivalry. 
It  is  impossible,  however,  to  grudge  tte 
flagellation  administered  upon  this  memo- 
rable occasion. 

When  the  Jacobins  had  thus  fallen  in  the 
popular  contest,  they  could  expect  little 
success  in  the  Convention ;  and  the  less, 
that  the  impulse  of  general  feeling  seemed 
about  to  recall  into  that  Assembly,  by  the 
reversal  of  their  outlawry,  the  remnant  of 
the  unhappy  Girondists,  and  other  mem- 
bers, who  had  been  arbitrarily  proscribed 
on  the  3Ist  of  May.  The  measure  was  de- 
layed for  some  time,  as  tending  to  effect  a 
change  in  the  composition  of  the  House, 
which  the  ruling  party  might  find  inconven- 
ient. At  length  upwards  of  sixty  deputies 
were  first  declared  free  of  the  outlawry, 
and  finally  readmitted  into  the  bosom  of 
the  Convention,  with  heads  which  had 
been  so  long  worn  in  insecurity,  that  it 
had  greatly  cooled  their  love  of  political 
theory. 

In  the  meantime  the  government,  through 
means  of  a  revolutionary  tribunal,  acting 
however  with  much  more  of  legal  formality 
and  caution  than  that  of  Robespierre,  made 
a  sacrifice  to  the  public  desire  of  vengeance. 
Lebon,  Carrier,  already  mentioned,  Fou- 
quier,  the  public  accuser  under  Robespierre, 
and  one  or  two  others  of  the  same  class, 
selected  on  account  of  the  peculiar  infamy 
and  cruelty  of  their  conduct,  were  con- 
demned and  executed  as  an  atonement  for 
injured  humanity. 

Here  probably  the  Thermidoriens  would 
have  wished  the  reaction  to  s'op  ;  but  this 
was  impossible.  Barras  and  Tillien  per- 
ceived plainly,  that  with  whatever  caution 
and  clemency  they  might  proceed  toward* 
their  old  allies  of  The  Mountain,  there  wa« 
still  no  hope  of  anything  like  reconcilia- 
tion ;  and  that  their  best  policy  was  to  get 
rid  of  them  as  speedily  and  as  quietly  as 
they  could.  The  Mountain,  like  a  hydra 
whose  heads  bourgeoned,  according  to  the 
poetic  expression,  as  fast  as  they  were 
cut  off,  continued  to  hiss  at  and  menace  the 
government  with  unwearied  malignity,  and 
to  agitate  the  metropcMs  by  their  intrigues, 
which  were  the  more  easily  conducted  that 
the  winter  was  severe,  bread  had  become 
scarce  and  high-priced,  and  the  common 
people  of  course  angry  and  discontented. 
Scarcity  is  always  the  grievance  of  which 
the  lower  classes  must  be  most  sensible  ; 
and  when  it  is  remembered  that  Robes- 
pierre, though  at  the  expense  of  the  gross- 
est injustice  to  the  rest  of  the  kingdom, 
always  kept  bread  beneath  a  certain  tntuc- 
imum  or  fixed  price  in  the  metropolis,  it 
will  not  be  wondered  at  that  the  population 
of  Paris  should  be  willing  to  favour  those 
who  followed  his  maxims.  The  impulse  of 
these  feelings,  joined  to  the  machinations 
of  the  Jacobins,  showed  itself  in  many  dis- 
orders. 

At  length  the  Convention,  pressed  by 
shame  on  the  one  side  and  fear  on  the  oth- 
er, saw  the  necessity  of  some  active  meas> 
ure,  ami  appointed  a  commission  to  con 


Chop,  xvn.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


189 


■ider  and  report  upon  the  conduct  of  the 
four  most  obnoxious  Jacobin  chiefs,  CoUot 
d'Herbois,  Billaud  Varennes,  Vadier,  and 
Barrere.  The  report  was  of  course  unfa- 
vourable ;  yet  upon  the  case  being  consid- 
ered, the  Convention  were  satisfied  to  con- 
demn them  to  transportation  to  Cayenne. 
Some  resistance  was  offered  to  this  sen- 
tence, so  mild  in  proportion  to  what  those 
who  underwent  it  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
inflicting;  but  it  was  borne  down,  and  the 
sentence  was  carried  into  execution.  Col- 
lot  d'Herbois,  the  demolisher  and  depopu- 
lator  of  Lyons,  is  said  to  have  died  in  the 
common  hospital,  in  consequence  of  drink- 
ing off  at  once  a  whole  bottle  of  ardent 
spirits.  Billaud  Varennes  spent  his  time 
in  teaching  the  innocent  parrots  of  Gui- 
ana the  frightful  jargon  of  the  Revolution- 
ary Committee  ;  and  finally  perished  in 
misery. 

These  men  both  belonged  to  that  class 
of  atheists,  who,  looking  up  towards  heav- 
en, loudly  and  literally  defied  the  Deity  to 
make  his  existence  known  by  lanching  his 
thunderbolts.  Miracles  are  not  wrought  on 
the  challenge  of  a  blasphemer  more  than 
on  the  demand  of  a  sceptic  ;  but  both  these 
tmhappy  men  had  probably  before  their 
death  reason  to  confess,  that  in  abandoning 
the  wicked  to  their  own  free  will,  a  greater 
penalty  results  even  in  this  life,  than  il' 
Providence  had  been  pleased  to  inflict  the 
immediate  doom  which  they  had  impiously 
defied. 

The  notice  of  one  more  desperate  at- 
tempt at  popular  insurrection,  finishes,  in  a 
great  measure,  the  history  of  Jacobinism 
and  of  The  Mountain  ;  of  those,  in  short, 
who  professed  the  most  outrageous  popular 
doctrines,  considered  as  a  political  body. 
They  continued  to  receive  great  facilities 
from  the  increasing  dearth,  and  to  find 
ready  opportunities  of  agitating  the  discon- 
tented part  of  a  population,  disgusted  by 
the  diminution  not  only  of  comforts,  but  of 
the  very  means  of  subsistence.  The  Jaco- 
bins, therefore,  were  easily  able  to  excite 
an  insurrection  of  the  same  description  as 
those  which  had  repeatedly  influenced  the 
fate  of  the  Revolution,  and  which,  in  fact, 
proceeded  to  greater  extremfties  than  any 
which  had  preceded  it  in  the  same  despe- 
rate game.  The  rallying  word  of  the  rab- 
ble was  "  Bread,  and  the  Democratic  Con- 
stitution of  1793 ;"'  a  constitution  which 
the  Jacobins  had  projected,  but  never  at- 
tempted seriously  to  put  in  force.  No  in- 
surrection had  yet  appeared  more  formida- 
ble in  numbers,  or  better  provided  in  pikes, 
muskets,  and  cannon.  They  invested  the 
Convention,*  without  experiencing  any  ef- 
fectual opposition  ;  burst  into  the  hall,  as- 
sassinated one  deputy,  Ferrand,  by  a  pistol- 
shot,  and  paraded  his  head  amongst  his 
trembling  brethren,  and  through  the  neigh- 
bonrinjr  streets  and  environs  on  a  pike. 
They  presented  Boissy  d'Anglas,  the  Pres- 
ident, with  the  motions  which  they  demand- 
ed should  be  passed ;  but  were  defeated  by 


•  JOth  May  1795. 


the  firmness  with  which  ne  preferred  hie 

duty  to  his  life. 

The  steadiness  of  the  Convention  gave  at 
length  confidence  to  the  friends  of  good 
order  without.  The  National  Guards  begaa 
to  muster  strong,  and  the  insurgents  to 
lose  spirits.  They  were  at  length,  not- 
withstanding their  formidable  appearance, 
dispersed  with  very  little  effort.  The  tu- 
mult, however,  was  renewed  on  the  two 
following  days ;  until  at  length  the  neces- 
sity of  taking  sufficient  measures  to  end 
it  at  once  and  for  ever,  became  evident  to 
all. 

Pichegru,  the  conqueror  of  Holland,  who 
chanced  to  be  in  Paris  at  the  time,  waa 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  National  Guards 
and  the  volunteers,  whose  character  we 
have  noticed  elsewhere.  At  the  head  of 
this  force,  he  marched  in  military  order  to- 
wards the  Fauxbourg  Saint  Antoine,  which 
had  poured  forth  repeatedly  the  bands  of 
armed  insurgents  that  were  the  principal 
force  of  the  Jacobins. 

After  a  show  of  defending  themselves, 
the  inhabitants  of  this  disorderly  suburb 
were  at  length  obliged  to  surrender  up  their 
arms  of  every  kind.  Those  pikes,  which 
had  so  often  decided  the  destinies  of  France, 
were  now  delivered  up  by  cart-loads  ;  and 
the  holy  right  of  insurrection  was  rendered 
in  future  a  more  dangerous  and  difficult 
task. 

Encouraged  by  the  success  of  this  deci- 
sive measure,  the  government  proceeded 
against  some  of  the  Terrorists  whom  they 
had  hitherto  spared,  but  whose  fate  was 
now  determined,  in  order  to  strike  dismay 
into  their  party.  SLx  Jacobins,  accounted 
among  the  most  ferocious  of  the  class, 
were  arrested  as  encouragers  of  the  late  in- 
surrection, and  delivered  up  to  be  tried  by 
a  military  commission.  They  were  all  dep- 
uties of  The  Mountain  gang.  Certain  of 
their  doom,  they  adopted  a  desperate  reso- 
lution. Among  the  whole  party,  they  pos- 
sessed but  one  knife,  but  they  resolved  it 
should  serve  them  all  for  the  purpose  of 
suicide.  The  instant  their  sentence  was 
pronounced,  one  stabbed  himself  with  this 
weapon ;  another  snatched  the  knife  from 
his  companion's  dying  hand,  plunged  it  in 
his  own  bosom,  and  handed  it  to  the  third, 
who  imitated  the  dreadful  example.  Such 
was  the  consternation  of  the  attendants, 
that  no  one  arrested  the  fatal  progress  of  the 
weapon — all  fell  either  dead  or  desperately 
wounded — the  last  were  despatched  by  the 
guillotine. 

After  this  decisive  victory,  and  last  dread- 
ful catastrophe.  Jacobinism,  considered  aa 
a  pure  and  unmixed  party,  can  scarce  be 
said  to  have  again  raised  its  head  in  France, 
although  its  le.aven  has  gone  to  qualify  and 
characterize,  in  some  degree,  more  than 
one  of  the  different  parties  which  have  suc- 
ceeded them.  As  a  political  sect,  the  Jac- 
obins can  be  compared  to  none  that  ever 
existed,  for  none  but  themselves  evef 
thought  of  an  organized,  regular,  and  con- 
tinued system  of  murdering  and  plundering 
the  rich,  that  they  might  debauch  the  poor 
by  the  distribution  of  their  spoils.    Tbef 


190 


LIFE  O^-  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  xvm. ' 


bear,  however,  some  resemblance  to  the 
frantic  followers  of  John  of  Leyden  and 
Knippcrdoling  who  occupied  Munster  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  committed,  in 
the  name  of  Religion,  the  same  frantic  hor- 
rors which  the  French  Jacobins  did  in  that 
of  Freedom.  In  both  cases,  the  courses 
adopted  by  these  parties  were  most  foreign 
to,  and  inconsistent  with,  the  alleged  mo- 
tives of  their  conduct.  The  Anabaptists 
practised  every  species  of  vice  and  cruelty, 
by  the  dictates,  they  said,  of  inspiration — 
the  Jacobins  imprisoned  three  hundred 
thousand  of  their  countrymen  in  name  of 
liberty,  and  put  to  death  more  than  half  the 
number,  under  the  sanction  of  fraternity. 

Now  at  length,  however,  society  began  to 
resume  its  ordinary  course,  and  the  business 
and  pleasures  of  life  succeeded  each  other 
as  usual.  But  even  social  pleasures  brought 
with  them  strange  and  gloomy  associations 
with  that  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
through  which  the  late  pilgrimage  of  France 
appeared  to  have  lain.  An  assembly  for 
dancing,  very  much  frequented  by  the  young 
of  both  sexes,  and  highly  fashionable,  was 
called  the  "  Ball  of  the  Victims."  The 
qualification  for  attendance  was  the  having 
lost  some  near  and  valued  relation  or  friend 


in  the  late  reign  of  Terror.  The  hair  and 
head-dress  were  so  arranged  as  to  resemble 
the  preparations  made  for  the  guillotine,  and 
the  motto  adopted  was,  "  We  dance  amidst 
tombs."  In  no  country  but  France  could 
the  incidents  have  taken  place  which  gave 
rise  to  this  association  ;  and  certainly  in  no 
country  but  France  would  they  have  been 
used  for  such  a  purpose. 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  from  the  considera- 
tion of  the  internal  government  of  France, 
to  its  external  relations  ;  in  regard  towhicii 
the  destinies  of  the  country  rose  to  such  a 
distinguished  height,  that  it  is  hardly  possi- 
ble to  reconcile  the  two  pictures  of  a  na- 
tion, triumphant  at  every  point  against  all 
Europe  coalesced  against  her,  making  ef- 
forts and  obtaining  victories,  to  which  his- 
tory had  been  yet  a  stranger;  while  at  the 
same  time  her  affairs  at  home  were  direct- 
ed by  ferocious  blood-thirsty  savages,  such 
as  Robespierre.  The  Republic,  regarded 
in  her  foreign  and  domestic  relations,  might 
be  fancifully  compared  to  the  tomb  erected 
over  some  hero,  presenting,  without,  tro- 
phies of  arms  and  the  emblems  of  victory, 
while,  within,  there  lies  only  a  mangled 
and  corrupted  corpse. 


CHAP.  XVIIZ. 

Retrospective  View  of  the  External  Relations  of  France — Her  great  Military  Sucees»- 
es —  Whence  they  arose. — Effect  of  the  Compulsory  Levies — Military  Genius  and 
Character  of  the  French. — French  Generals. — New  Mode  of  training  the  Troops. — 
Light  Troops. — Successive  Attacks  in  Column. — Attachment  of  the  Soldiers  to  the 
Revolution. — Also  of  the  Generals. — Carnot. — Effect  of  the  French  Principla 
preached  to  the  Countries  invaded  by  their  Arms. — Close  of  the  Revolution  vrith  th* 
fall  of  Robespierre. — Reflections  upon  what  was  to  succeed. 


It  may  be  said  of  victory,  as  the  English 
satirist  has  said  of  wealth,  that  it  cannot  be 
of  much  importance  in  the  eye  of  Heaven, 
considering  in  what  unworthy  association  it 
is  sometimes  found.  While  the  rulers  of 
France  were  disowning  the  very  existence 
of  a  Deity,  her  armies  appeared  to  move 
almost  as  if  protected  by  the  especial  fa- 
vour of  Providence.  Our  former  recapitu- 
lation presented  a  slight  sketch  of  the  peril- 
ous state  of  France  in  1793,  surrounded  by 
foes  on  almost  every  frontier,  and  with  dif- 
ficulty maintaining  her  ground  on  any  point ; 
yet  the  lapse  of  two  years  found  her  victo- 
rious, nay,  triumphantly  victorious,  on  all. 

On  the  north-eastern  frontier,  the  English, 
after  a  series  of  hard  fisrhting,  had  lost  not 
only  Flanders,  on  which  we  left  them  ad- 
vancing, but  Holland  itself,  and  had  been 
finally  driven  with  great  loss  to  abandon  the 
Continent.  The  King  of  Prussia  had  set 
out  on  his  first  campaign  as  the  chief  hero 
of  the  coalition,  and  had  undertaken  that 
the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  liis  general,  should 
put  down  the  revolution  in  France  as  easily 
.13  ho  had  done  that  of  Holland.  But  find- 
ing the  enterprise  which  he  had  undertaken 
was  above  his  strength  ;.that  his  accumulat- 
ed treasures  were  exhausted  in  an  unsuc- 
>  cessful  war  ;  and  that  Austria  not  Prussia, 


was  regarded  as  the  head  of  the  coalition, 
he  drew  off  his  forces,  after  they  had  been 
weakened  by  more  than  one  defeat,  and 
made  a  separate  peace  with  France,  in 
which  he  renounced  to  the  new  Republic 
the  sovereignty  of  all  those  portions  of  the 
Prussian  territory  which  lay  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Rhine.  The  king,  to  make  up  for 
these  losses,  sought  a  more  profitable, 
though  less  honourable  field  of  warfare,  and 
concurred  with  Russia  and  Austria  in  effect- 
ing by  conquest  a  final  partition  and  appro- 
priation of  Poland,  on  the  same  unprinci- 
pled plan  on  which  the  first  had  been  con- 
ducted. 

Spain,  victorious  at  the  beginning  of  the 
conquest,  had  been  of  late  so  unsuccessful 
in  opposing  the  French  armies,  that  it  was 
the  opinion  of  many,  that  her  character  for 
valour  and  patriotism  was  lost  for  ever. 
Catalonia  was  overrun  by  the  Republicans, 
Rosas  taken,  and  no  army  intervening  be- 
twixt the  victors  and  Madrid,  the  King  of 
Spain  was  obliged  to  clasp  hands  with  tlu» 
murderers  of  his  kinsman,  Louis  XVI.,  ac 
knowledge  the  French  Republic,  and  with- 
draw from  the  coalition. 

Austria  had  well  sustained  her  ancient 
renown,  both  by  the  valour  of  her  troopo, 
the  resolution  of  her  cabinet,  and  the  tal- 


Chap.  XVII J]  LIFK  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


191 


enta  of  one  or  two  of  her  generals, — the 
Archduke  Charles  in  particular,  and  the 
veteran  Wurmser.  Yet  she  too  had  suc- 
cumbed und*"-  the  Republican  superiority. 
Belgium,  as  the  French  called  Flanders, 
was,  as  already  stated,  totally  lost;  and  war 
along  the  Rhine  was  continued  by  Austria, 
more  for  defence  than  with  a  hope  of  con- 
quest. 

So  much  and  so  generally  had  the  for- 
tune of  war  declared  in  favour  of  France 
upon  all  points,  even  while  she  was  herself 
sustaining  the  worst  of  evils  from  the 
worst  of  tyrannies.  There  must  have  been 
unquestionably  several  reasons  for  such 
success  as  seemed  to  attend  universally  on 
tiie  arms  of  the  Republic,  instead  of  being 
limited  to  one  peculiarly  efficient  army,  or 
to  one  distinguished  general. 

The  first  and  most  powerful  cause  must 
be  looked  for  in  the  extraordinary  energy 
of  the  Republican  government,  which,  from 
its  very  commencement,  tlirew  all  subordi- 
nate considerations  asitle,  and  devoted  the 
whole  resources  of  the  country  to  its  mili- 
tary defence.  It  was  then  that  France 
fully  learned  the  import  of  the  word  "  Re- 
<luisition,"  as  meaning  thst  whicli  govern- 
ment needs,  and  which  must  at  all  hazards 
be  supplied.  Compulsory  levies  were  uni- 
versally resorted  to ;  and  the  undoubted 
right  wliici)  a  state  has  to  call  upon  each 
of  its  subjects  to  arise  in  defence  of  the 
community,  was  extended  into  the  power 
of  sending  them  upon  e.^peditions  of  for- 
eign conquest. 

In  the  month  of  March  1793,  a  levy  of 
two  hundred  thousand  men  was  appointed, 
and  took  place  ;  but  by  a  subsequent  decree 
of  the  '23d  .August  in  the  same  year,  a  more 
gigantic  mode  of  recruiting  was  resorted  to. 

F.very  man  in  France  able  to  bear  arms 
was  placed  at  the  orders  of  the  slate,  and 
being  divided  into  classes,  the  youngest,  to 
the  amount  of  five  hundred  thousand,  after- 
wards augmented  to  a  million,  were  com- 
manded to  march  for  immediate  action. 
The  rest  of  society  were  to  be  disposed  of 
as  might  best  second  the  efforts  of  the  act- 
ual combatants.  The  married  men  were 
to  prepare  arms  and  forward  convoys, — 
the  women  to  make  uniforms, — the  chil- 
dren to  scrape  lint. — and  the  old  men  to 
preach  Republicanism.  .'Ml  property  ^Vas 
in  like  manner  devoted  to  maintaining  the 
war, — all  buildings  were  put  to  military  pur- 
poses— all  arms  .appropriated  to  the  public 
service — and  all  horses,  excepting  those 
which  might  be  necessary  for  agriculture, 
seized  on  for  tiie  cavalry,  and  other  milita- 
ry services.  Representatives  of  the  peo- 
ple were  named  to  march  with  the  various 
Icvio!-,— those  terrible  commissioners,  who 
punished  no  fault  with  a  slighter  penalty 
than  deatli.  .\o  excuse  was  sustained  for 
want  ')f  p-=rsonal  compliance  with  the  re- 
quisition for  personal  service — no  delay 
permitted — no  substitution  allowed — actual 
and  literal  compliance  was  demanded  from 
every  one,  and  of  what  rank  soever.  Con- 
scripts who  failed  to  appear,  resisted,  or 
fled,  were  subjected  to  the  penalties  which 
attached  to  emigration. 


By  successive  decrees  of  this  peremptory 

nat'.re.  enforced  with  the  full   energy  of 

revolutionary    violence,    the    government 

succeeded  in  bringing  into  the  field,  and 

maintaining,    forces   to   an   amount    more 

than  double  those  of  their  powerful  ene- 

.  mies  ;  and  the  same  means  of  supply — arbi- 

I  trary  requisition,   namely — which  brought 

!  them  out,  supported  and  maintained  them 

I  during  the  campaign  ;   so  that,  while  there 

remained  food  and  clothing  of  any  kind  in 

I  the  country,  the  soldier  was  sure  to  be  fed, 

paid,  and  equipped. 

There  are  countries,  however,  in  which 
the  great  numerical  superiority  thus  attain- 
ed is  of  little  consequence,  when  a  confus- 
ed levy  en  masse  of  raw,  inexperienced,  and 
disorderly  boys,  are  opposed  against  the 
ranks  of  a  much  smaller,  but  a  regular  and 
well-disciplined  army,  such  as  in  every  re- 
spect is  that  of  Austria.  On  such  occa- 
sions the  taunting  speech  of  Alaric  recurs 
to  recollection, — '-'The  thicker  the  hay  the 
more  easily  it  is  mowed."  But  this  was 
not  tound  to  be  the  case  with  the  youth  of 
France,  who  adopted  the  habits  most  neces- 
sary for  a  soldier  with  singular  facility  and 
readiness.  JNIilitary  service  has  been  pop- 
ular amongst  them  in  all  ages  ;  and  the  sto- 
ries of  the  grardsire  in  a  French  cottage 
have  always  tended  to  excite  in  his  de- 
scendants ideas  familiar  with  a  military  con- 
dition. They  do  not  come  to  it  as  a  violent 
change  of  life,  which  they  had  never  previ- 
ously contemplated,  and  where  all  is  new 
•ind  terrible  ;  but  as  to  a  duty  which  every 
Frenchman  is  liable  to  discharge,  and 
which  is  as  natural  to  him  as  to  his  father 
or  grandfather  before  him. 

Besides  this  propensity,  and  undoubtedly 
connected  with  it,  a  young  Frenchman  is 
possessed  of  the  natural  character  most  de- 
sirable in  the  soldier.     He   is  accustomed 
to   fare   hard,   to  take   much   exercise,   to 
make  many  shifts,  and  to  support  with  pa- 
tience occasional  deprivations.     His  happy 
gayety   renders  him  indifferent  to  danger, 
his  good-humour  patient  under  hardship. 
His  ingenuity  seems  to  amuse  as  well  as  to 
assist  hira  in  the  contingencies  of  a  roving 
life.     He  can  be  with  ease  a  cook  or  an  ar- 
tificer, or  what  eLe  the  occasion  may  re- 
quire.    His  talents  for  actual  war  are   not 
less  decided.      Either  in   advancing  with 
spirit,    or    in   retreatimg    with    order,   the 
j  Frenchman  is  one  of  the  finest  soldiers  in 
I  the  world  ;  and  when  requisite,  the  privates 
I  in  their  army  often  exhibit  a  degree  of  in- 
I  telligence  anil  knowledge  of  the  profession, 
which  might  become  individuals  of  a  high- 
1  er  rank  in  other  services.     If  not  absolute 
water-drinkers,  they  are  less  addicted  to 
intoxication  than  the  English  soldier,  who, 
perhaps,  0!dy  brings,  to  counterbalance  tha 
numerous  advantages  on  the  part  of  his  op- 
ponent, that  mastiff-like   perseverance  and 
determination   in   combat,   which    induce* 
him  to  repeat,  maintain,  and  prolong  hia 
efforts,  under  ever)'  disadvantage  of  num- 
bers and  circumstances. 
I      The  spirits  of  the   Frenchman,  such  aa 
we  have   described,  did   not  suffer   much 
!  from  the  violent  iumraons  which  tore  bin* 


192 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[ciuip.  xvm. 


from  his  home.  We  have,  unhappily,  in 
our  own  navy,  an  example,  how  little  men's 
courage  is  broken  by  their  being  forced  in- 
to a  dangerous  service.  But  comfortless 
as  the  state  of  France  then  was,  and  pain- 
ful as  the  sights  must  have  been  by  which 
the  eyes  were  daily  oppressed — closed  up 
too  as  were  the  avenues  to  every  civil 
walk  of  life,  and  cheap  as  they  were  held 
in  a  nation  which  had  become  all  one  vast 
camp,  a  youth  of  spirit  was  glad  to  escape 
from  witnessing  the  desolation  at  home, 
and  to  take  with  gayety  the  chance  of  death 
or  promotion,  in  the  only  line  which  might 
now  be  accounted  comparatively  safe,  and 
indubitably  honourable.  The  armies  with 
whom  these  new  levies  were  incorporated 
were  by  degrees  admirably  supplied  witli 
officers.  The  breaking  down  the  old  dis- 
tinctions of  ranks  had  opened  a  free  career 
to  those  desirous  of  promotion ;  and  in 
times  of  hard  fighting,  men  of  merit  are 
distinguished  and  get  preferment.  The 
Toice  of  the  soldier  had  often  its  influence 
upon  the  officer's  preferment  ;  and  that  is  a 
TOte  seldom  bestowed,  but  from  ocular 
proof  that  it  is  deserved.  The  revolutiona- 
ry rulers,  though  bloody  in  their  resent- 
ment, were  liberai,  almost  extravagant,  in 
their  rewards,  and  spared  neither  gold  nor 
•teel,  honours  nor  denunciations,  to  incite 
their  generals  to  victory,  or  warn  them 
against  the  consequences  of  defeat. 

Under  that  stern  rule  which  knew  no 
excuse  for  ill  success,  and  stimulated  by 
opportunities  which  seemed  to  offer  every 
prize  to  honourable  ambition,  arose  a  race 
of  generals  whom  the  world  scarce  ever 
■aw  equalled,  and  of  whom  there  certainly 
never  at  any  other  period  flourished  so  ma- 
ny, in  any  other  service.  Such  was  Buona- 
garte  himself;  such  were  Pichegru  and 
loreau,  doomed  to  suffer  a  gloomy  fate  un- 
der his  ascendency.  Such  were  those 
Marshals  and  Generals  who  were  to  share 
his  better  fortunes,  and  cluster  around  his 
future  throne,  as  the  Paladins  around  that 
bf  Charlemagne,  or  as  the  British  and  .^r- 
morican  champions  begirt  the  Round  Table 
of  Uther's  fabled  son.  In  those  early  wars, 
and  summoned  out  by  the  stern  conscrip- 
tion, were  trained  Murat,  whose  eminence 
and  fall  seemed  a  corollary  to  that  of  his 
brother-in-law — Ney,  the  bravest  of  tlie 
brave — the  calm,  sagacious  Macdonald — 
Joubert,  who  had  almost  anticipated  the 
part  reserved  for  Buonaparte — Massena, 
the  spoiled  child  of  Fortune — .\ugereau, 
Berthier,  Lannes,  and  many  others,  whose 
Hames  began  already  to  stir  the  French  sol- 
dier as  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet. 

These  adventurers  in  the  race  of  fame 
belonged  some  of  them,  as  Macdonald,  to 
the  old  military  school  •,  some,  like  Mo- 
reau,  came  from  the  civil  class  of  society  ; 
many  arose  from  ori'.;ins  that  were  positive- 
ly mean,  and  were  thcrefcre  still  more  de- 
cidedly children  of  the  Revolution.  But 
that  great  earthquake,  by  throwing  down 
distinctions  of  birth  and  rmk,  had  removed 
•bstacles  which  would  otherwise  Iiave  im- 
peded the  progress  of  uhnost  all  these  dis- 
tinguished men  ;  and  they  were  therefore. 


for  the  greater  part,  attached  to  that  new 
order  of  aflfairs  which  afforded  full  scope  to 
their  talents. 

The  French  armies,  thus  recruited,  and 
thus  commanded,  were  disciplined  in  a 
manner  suitable  to  the  materials  of  which 
they  were  composed.  There  was  neither 
leisure  nor  opportunity  to  subject  the  new 
levies  to  all  that  minuteness  of  training, 
which  was  required  by  the  somewhat  pe- 
dantic formality  of  the  old  school  of  war. 
Dumouriez,  setting  the  example,  began  to 
show  that  the  principle  of  revolution  might 
be  introduced  with  advantage  into  the  art 
of  war  itself;  and  that  the  difference  be- 
twixt these  new  conscripts  and  the  veteran 
troops  to  whom  they  were  opposed,  might 
be  much  diminished  by  resorting  to  the 
original  and  more  simple  rules  of  stratagie, 
and  neglecting  many  formalities  which  had 
been  once  considered  as  essential  to  play- 
ing the  great  game  of  war  with  success,  h 
is  the  constant  error  of  ordinary  minds  to 
consider  matters  of  mere  routine  as  equally 
important  with  those  which  are  essential, 
and  to  entertain  as  much  horror  at  a  disor- 
dered uniform  as  at  a  confused  manosuvre. 
It  was  to  the  honour  of  the  French  Gene- 
rals, as  men  of  genius,  that  in  the  hour  of 
danger  they  were  able  to  surmount  all  the 
prejudices  of  a  profession  which  has  its 
pedantry  as  well  as  others,  and  to  suit  the 
discipline  which  they  retained  to  the  char- 
acter of  their  recruits  and  the  urgency  of 
the  time. 

The  foppery  of  the  manual  e.^ercise  was 
laid  aside,  and  it  was  restricted  to  the  few 
motions  necessary  for  effectual  use  of  the 
musket  and  bayonet.  Easier  and  more  sim- 
ple manoBUvres  were  substituted  for  such 
as  were  involved  and  difficult  to  execute ; 
and  providing  the  line  or  column  could  be 
formed  with  activity,  and  that  order  wa« 
preserved  on  the  march,  the  mere  etiquette 
of  military  movements  was  much  relaxed. 
The  quanfity  of  light  troops  was  increased 
greatly  beyond  the  number  which  had  of 
late  been  used  by  European  nations.  Tho 
Austrians,  who  used  to  draw  from  the  Ty- 
rol, and  from  their  wild  Croatian  frontier, 
the  best  light  troops  in  the  world,  had  at 
this  time  formed  many  of  them  into  regi- 
ments of  the  line,  and  thus,  limited  and  di- 
minished their  own  superiority  in  a  species 
of  force  which  was  becoming  of  greater 
importance  daily.  Tiie  French,  on  the 
contrary,  disciplined  immense  bodies  of 
their  conscripts  as  irregulars  and  sharp- 
shooters. Their  numbers  and  galling  firo 
frequently  prevented  their  more  systemat- 
ic and  formal  adversaries  from  being  able 
to  push  forward  reconnoitring  parties,  by 
which  to  obtain  any  exact  information  as  to 
the  numbers  and  disposition  of  the  P>ench  ; 
while  the  Republican  troops  of  the  line, 
protected  by  this  swarm  of  wasps,  chose 
their  lime,  place,  and  manner,  of  advancing 
to  the  attack,  or  retreating,  as  the  case  de- 
manded. It  is  true,  tint  this  service  cost 
an  immense  number  of  lives  ;  but  the  French 
Generals  were  sensible  that  human  life  waa 
the  commodity  which  the  Republic  set  the 
least  value  upon;  and  that  when  Death  waa 


Chap.  XVni.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


193 


served  with  so  wide  a  feast  from  one  end 
of  France  to  the  other,  he  was  not  to  be 
stinted  in  his  own  proper  banquetting-hall, 
the  field  of  battle. 

The  same  circumstances  dictated  anoth- 
er variety  or  innovation  in  French  tactics, 
which  greatly  increased  the  extent  of 
slaughter.  The  armies  with  whom  they 
engaged,  disconcerted  by  the  great  superi- 
ority of  numbers  which  were  opposed  to 
them,  and  baffled  in  obtaining  intelligence 
by  the  teazing  activity  of  the  French  light 
troops,  most  frequently  assumed  the  defen- 
sive, and  taking  a  strong  position,  improved 
perhaps  by  field-works,  waited  until  the  fie- 
TV  youth  of  France  should  come  to  throw 
themselves  by  thousands  upon  their  batte- 
ries. It  was  then  that  the  French  generals 
began  first  to  employ  those  successive  at- 
tacks in  column,  in  which  one  brigade  of 
troops  is  brought  up  after  another,  without 
interruption,  and  without  regard  to  the  loss 
of  lives,  until  the  arms  of  the  defenders 
are  weary  with  slaying,  and  their  line  being 
in  some  point  or  other  carried,  through  the 
impossibility  of  everywhere  resisting  an  as- 
sault so  continued  and  desperate,  the  battle 
is  lost,  and  the  army  is  compelled  to  give 
way ;  while  the  conquerors  can,  by  the 
multitudes  they  have  brought  into  action, 
afford  to  pay  the  dreadful  price  which  they 
have  given  for  the  victory. 

In  this  manner  the  French  generals  em- 
ployed whole  columns  of  the  young  con- 
scripts, termed  from  that  circumstance, 
"  food  for  the  caimon"  (chair  a  canon,)  be- 
fore disease  had  deprived  them  of  bodily 
activity,  or  experience  had  taught  them  the 
dangers  of  the  profession  on  which  they 
entered  with  the  thoughtless  vivacity  of 
schoolboys.  It  also  frequently  happen- 
ed, even  when  the  French  possessed  no 
numerical  superiority  upon  the  whole,  that 
by  the  celerity  of  their  movements,  and  the 
skill  with  which  they  at  once  combined  and 
executed  them,  they  were  able  suddenly  to 
concentrate  such  a  superiority  upon  the 
point  which  they  meant  to  attack,  as  insur- 
ed them  the  same  advantage. 

In  enumerating  the  causes  of  the  general 
success  of  the  Republican  arms,  we  must 
not  forget  the  moral  motive — the  interest 
which  the  troops  took  in  the  cause  of  the 
war.  The  army,  in  fact,  derived  an  instant 
and  most  flattering  advantage  from  the  Re- 
volution, which  could  scarce  be  said  of  any 
other  class  of  men  in  France,  excepting  the 
peasant.  Their  pay  was  improved,  their 
importance  increased.  There  was  not  a 
private  soldier  against  whom  the  highest 
ranks  of  the  profession  was  shut,  and  many 
attained  to  them.  Massena  was  originally 
a  drummer,  Ney  a  common  hussar,  and 
there  were  many  others  who  arose  to  the 
command  of  armies  from  the  lowest  condi- 
tion. Now  this  was  a  government  for  a 
soldier  to  live  and  flourish  under,  and  seem- 
ed still  more  advantageous  when  contrast- 
ed with  the  old  monarchical  system,  in 
which  the  prejudices  of  birth  interfered  at 
every  turn  with  the  pretensions  of  merit, 
where  a  roturier  could  not  rise  above  a 
vubaltern  rank,  and  where  all  ofiices  of  dis- 
VOL.  I,  I 


tinction  were,  as  matters  of  inheritance,  re- 
served for  the  grande  noblesse  alone. 

But  besides  the  reward  which  it  held  out 
to  its  soldiers,  the  service  of  the  Republic 
had  this  irresistible  charm  for  the  soldiery 
— it  was  victorious.  The  conquests  which 
they  obtained,  and  the  plunder  which  at- 
tended those  conquests,  attached  the  vic- 
tors to  their  standards,  and  drew  around 
them  fresh  hosts  of  their  countrymen. 
"  Vive  la  Repuhlique !"  became  a  war-cry, 
as  dear  to  their  army  as  in  former  times  the 
shout  of  Dennis  Mountjoie,  and  the  Tri-col- 
oured  flag  supplied  the  place  of  the  Ori- 
flamme.  By  the  confusion,  the  oppression, 
the  bloodshed  of  the  Revolution,  the  sol- 
diers were  but  little  affected.  They  heard 
of  friends  imprisoned  or  guillotined,  in^ 
deed  5*  but  a  military  man,  like  a  monk, 
leaves  the  concerns  of  the  civil  world  be- 
hind him,  and  while  he  plays  the  bloody 
game  for  his  own  life  or  death  with  the  en- 
emy who  faces  him,  has  little  time  to  think 
of  what  is  happening  in  the  native  country 
which  he  has  abandoned.  For  any  other 
acquaintance  with  the  politics  of  the  Re- 
public, they  were  indebted  to  flowery 
speeches  in  the  Convention,  resounding 
with  the  praises  of  the  troops,  and  to  har- 
angues of  the  representatives  accompany- 
ing the  armies,  who  never  failed  by  flattery 
and  largesses  to  retain  possession  of  the 
affection  of  the  soldiers,  whose  attachment 
was  so  essential  to  their  safety.  So  well 
did  they  accomplish  this,  that  while  the 
Republic  flourished,  the  armies  were  so 
much  attached  to  that  order  of  things,  as  to 
desert  successively  some  of  their  most  fa- 
vourite leaders,  when  they  became  objects 
of  suspicion  to  the  fierce  democracy. 

The  generals,  indeed,  had  frequent  and 
practical  experience,  that  the  Republic 
could  be  as  severe  with  her  military  as  with 
her  civU  subjects,  and  even  more  so,  judg- 
ing by  the  ruthlessness  with  which  they 
were  arrested  and  executed,  with  scarce 
the  shadow  of  a  pretext.  Yet  this  did  not 
diminish  the  zeal  of  the  survivors.  If  the 
revolutionary  government  beheaded,  they 
also  paid,  promised,  and  promoted  ;  and 
amid  the  various  risks  of  a  soldier's  life,  the 
hazard  of  the  guillotine  was  only  a  slight 
addition  to  those  of  the  sword  and  the  mus- 
ket,! which,  in  the  sanguine  eye  of  cour- 
age and  ambition,  joined  to  each  individu- 
al's confidence  in  his  own  good  luck,  did 
not  seem  to  render  his  chance  much  worse. 


*  Such  was  the  fate  of  Moreau,  who,  on  the  eve 
of  one  of  his  most  distinguished  victories,  had  to 
receive  tlie  news  that  his  father  had  been  beheaded 

t  The  risk  was  considered  as  a  matter  of  course . 
Madame  La  Roche-Jacqueleia  informs  us  th.T. 
General  duentineau,  a  Republican  officer  who 
had  behaved  with  great  humanity  in  La  Vendeu 
having  fallen  into  the  hands  nf  the  insurgents,  war: 
pressed  by  L'Escure,  who  commanded  them,  not 
to  return  to  Paris.  "  I  know  the  ditference  ot  our 
political  opinions,"  said  the  Royalist ;  "  but  wfiv 
should  yrju  deliver  up  your  life  to  those  men  witii 
whom  want  of  success  will  be  a  sufficient  leason 
for  abridging  it."' — "You  say  truly,"  replied 
duentineau;  "but  as  a  man  of  honour,  I  must 
present  myself  in  defence  of  my  conduct  wherever 
it  may  be  impeached."  He  went,  and  perished  by 
the  guillotine  accordingly 


194 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


IChap.  XVIlf. 


Wlieii  such  punishment  arrived,  the  gene- 
rals submitted  to  it  as  one  of  the  casualties 
of  war ;  nor  was  the  Republic  worse  or 
more  reluctantly  served  by  those  who  were 
left. 

.Suc:li  being  the  admirable  quality  and 
talents,  the  mode  of  thinking  and  acting, 
which  the  Republican,  or  rather  Revolu- 
tionary, armies  possessed,  it  required  only 
the  ruling  genius  of  the  celebrated  Carnot, 
who,  bred  in  the  department  of  engineers, 
was  probably  one  of  the  very  best  tacticians 
in  the  world,  to  bring  them  into  effectual 
use.  He  was  a  member  of  the  frightful  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Safety  ;  but  it  has  been 
said  in  his  defence,  that  he  did  not  meddle 
with  its  atrocities,  limiting  himself  entire- 
ly to  the  war  department,  for  which  he 
showed  so  much  talent,  that  his  colleagues 
left  it  to  his  exclusive  management.  In 
his  own  individual  person  he  constituted 
the  whole  bureau  militaire,  or  war  office, 
of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  corres- 
ponded with  and  directed,  the  movements 
of  the  armies,  as  if  inspired  by  the  Goddess 
of  Victory  herself.  He  first  daringly  claim- 
ed for  France  her  natural  boundaries  (that 
is,  the  boundaries  most  convenient  for  her). 
The  Rhine,  the  Alps,  and  the  Pyrenees, 
he  assigned  as  the  limits  of  her  dominions  ; 
and  asserted  that  all  within  these,  belong- 
ing to  other  powers  must  have  been  usurpa- 
tions on  France,  and  were  unhesitatingly  to 
be  resumed  aa  such.  And  he  conquered  by 
his  gen'us  the  countries  which  his  ambi- 
tion claimed.  Belgium  became  an  integral 
part  of  the  F>ench  Republic— Holland  was 
erected  into  a  little  dependent  democracy, 
aa  an  outwork  for  defending  the  Great  Na- 
tion— the  Austrians  were  foiled  on  the 
Rhine— the  King  of  Sardinia  driven  ftom 
SavoT — and  schemes  realized  which  Louis 
XIV.  never  dared  to  dream  of.  In  return 
for  the  complaisance  exhibited  by  the  Com- 
mittee towards  himself,  he  did  not  express 
any  scruples,  if  he  entertained  such,  con- 
cerning the  mode  in  which  they  governed 
the  interior  of  their  unhappy  country.  Yet 
notwithstanding  his  skill  and  his  caution, 
the  blighting  eye  of  Robespierre  was  fixed 
on  him,  as  that  of  the  snake  which  watches 
its  victim.  He  could  not  dispense  with  the 
talents  of  Camot  in  the  career  of  victory  ; 
but  it  is  well  known,  that  if  his  plans  on  any 
occasion  had  miscarried,  the  security  of  his 
head  would  have  become  very  precarious. 

It  must  also  be  allowed,  that  although  the 
French  armies  were  attached  to  the  Repub- 
lic, and  moved  usually  under  direction  of  a 
member  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Secu- 
rity, they  did  not  adopt,  in  their  brutal  ex- 
tent, the  orders  for  exterminating  warfare 
■which  were  transmitted  to  them  by  their 
masters.  At  one  time  a  decree  was  passed 
refusing  quarter  to  such  of  the  allied  troops 
as  might  be  made  prisoners  :  but  the  French 
soldiers  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  take  a 
step  which  must  have  aggravated  so  dread- 
fully the  necessary  horrors  of  war.  When 
we  consider  how  the  civil  government  of 
France  were  employed,  when  the  soldiers 
refused  their  sanction  to  this  decree,  it 
>«eeins  as  if  Humanity  had  fled  from  cities 


and  tlie  peaceful  dwellings  of  men,  to  seek 
a  home  in  camps  and  combats. 

One  important  part  of  the  subject  can  be 
here  treated  but  slightly.  We  allude  to  thi; 
great  advantages  derived  by  the  French 
arms  from  the  reception  of  their  political 
doctrines  at  this  period  among  the  people 
whom  they  invaded.  They  proclaimed 
aloud  that  they  made  war  on  castles  and 
palaces,  but  were  at  peace  with  cottages  ; 
and  as  on  some  occasions  besieging  generals 
are  said  to  have  bribed  the  governor  of  a 
place  to  surrender  it,  by  promising  they 
would  leave  in  his  unchallenged  possession 
the  military  chest  of  the  garrison,  so  the 
French  in  all  cases  held  out  to  the  popu- 
lace the  plunder  of  their  own  nobles,  as  an 
inducement  for  them  to  favour,  at  least  not 
to  oppose,  the  invasion  of  their  noujitry. 
Thus  their  armies  were  always  preceded 
by  their  principles.  A  party  favourable  t" 
France,  and  listening  with  delight  to  tin- 
doctrines  of  liberty  and  equality,  was  form- 
ed in  the  bosom  of  each  neighbouring  state, 
so  that  the  power  of  the  invaded  nation  was 
crushed,  and  its  spirit  quenched,  under  n 
sense  of  internal  discontent  and  discord. 
The  French  were  often  received  at  once  as 
conquerors  and  deliverers  by  the  countries 
they  invaded  5  and  in  almost  all  cases,  the 
governments  on  which  they  made  war  were 
obliged  to  trust  exclusively  to  such  regular 
forces  as  they  could  bring  into  the  field,  be- 
ing deprived  of  the  inappreciable  advantage 
of  general  zeal  among  their  subjects  in  their 
behalf.  It  was  not  long  ere  the  inhabitant* 
of  those  deceived  countries  found  that  the 
fruits  of  the  misnamed  tree  of  liberty  re- 
sembled those  said  to  grow  by  the  Dead 
Sea — fair  and  goodly  to  the  eye,  but  to  the 
taste  all  filth  and  bitterness. 

We  are  now  to  close  our  review  of  the 
French  Revolution,  the  fall  of  Robespierre 
being  the  era  at  which  its  terrors  began  to 
ebb  and  recede,  nor  did  they  ever  again 
arise  to  the  same  height.  If  we  look  back 
at  the  whole  progress  of  the  change,  from 
the  convocation  of  the  States-General  to 
the  9th  Thermidor,  as  the  era  of  that  man's 
overthrow  was  called,  the  eye  in  vain  seeks 
for  any  point  at  which  even  a  probability 
existed  of  establishing  a  solid  or  permanent 
government.  The  three  successive  consti- 
tutions of  1791,  1792,  and  1795,  the  succes- 
sive work  of  Constitutionalists,  Girondists, 
and  Jacobins,  possessed  no  more  power  to 
limit  or  arrest  the  force  of  the  revolutionary 
impulse,  than  a  bramble  or  briar  to  stop  the 
progress  of  a  rock  rushing  down  from  a 
precipice.  Though  ratified  and  sworn  to, 
with  every  circumstance  which  could  add 
solemnity  to  the  oblig.ation,  each  remained, 
in  succession,  a  dead  letter.  France,  in 
1795  nnd  1796,  was  therefore  a  nation 
without  either  a  regular  constitution,  or  a 
regular  administration  ;  governed  by  the 
remnant  of  an  Assembly  called  a  Conven- 
tion, who  continued  sitting,  merely  because 
the  crisis  found  them  in  possession  of  their 
seats,  and  who  administered  the  government 
through  the  medium  of  Provisional  Com- 
mittees, with  whose  dictates  they  compli- 
ed implicitly,  and  who  really  directed  aU 


Ckap.  XIX.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


195 


things,  though  in  the   Convention's   name. 

In  the  meantime,  and  since  those  strange 
scenes  had  commenced,  France  had  lost 
her  Kinc  and  Nobles,  her  Church  and  Cler- 
gy, her  Judges,  Courts,  and  Magistrates, 
her  Colonies  and  Commerce.  The  greater 
part  of  her  statesmen  and  men  of  note  had 
perished  by  proscription,  and  her  orators' 
eloquence  had  been  cut  short  by  the  guillo- 
tine. She  had  no  finances — the  bonds  of 
civil  society  seem  to  have  retained  their 
influence  from  habit  only.  The  nation  pos- 
sessed only  one  powerful  engine,  which 
France  called  her  own,  and  one  impulsive 
power  to  guide  it — These  were  her  army 
and  her  ambition.  She  resembled  a  person 
in  the  delirium  of  a  fever,  who  has  stripped 
himself  in  his  frenzy  of  all  decent  and  ne- 
cessary clothing,  and  retains  in  his  hand 
only  a  bloody  sword  ;  while  those  who  have 
endeavoured  to  check  his  furj',  lie  subdued 
around  him.  Never  had  so  many  great 
events  successively  taken  place  in  a  na- 
tion, without  affording  something  like  a 
fixed  or  determined  result,  either  already 
attained,  or  soon  to  be  expected. 

Again  and  again  did  reflecting  men  say 
to  each  other, — This  unheard-of  state  of 
things,  in  which  all  seems  to  be  temporary 
und  revolutionary,  will  not,  cannot  last ; — 
and  especially  after  the  fall  of  Robespierre, 
t  seemed  that  some  change  was  approach- 
ng.  Those  who  had  achieved  that  work, 
lid  not  hold  on  any  terms  of  security  the 
emporary  power  which  it  had  procured 
.hem.  They  rather  retained  their  influence 
ly  means  of  the  jealousy  of  two  extreme 
parties,  than  from  any  confidence  reposed 
in  themselves.  Those  who  had  suffered  so 
deeply  under  the  rule  of  the  revolutionary 
government,  must  have  looked  with  suspi- 


cion on  the  Thermidoriens  as  regular  Jac- 
obins, who  had  shared  all  the  excesses  ef 
the  period  of  Terror,  and  now  employed 
their  power  in  protecting  the  perpetrators. 
On  the  other  hand,  those  of  the  Revolution- 
ists who  yet  continued  in  the  bond  of  Jac- 
obin fraternity,  could  not  forgive  Tallien 
and  Barras  the  silencing  the  Jacobin  Clubs, 
the  exiling  Collot  d'Herbois  and  Billaud 
Varennes,  putting  to  death  many  other  pa- 
triots, and  totally  crushing  the  system  of 
revolutionary  government.  In  fact,  if  the 
thorough-bred  Revolutionists  still  endured 
the  domination  of  Tallien  and  Barras,  it 
was  only  because  it  shielded  them  from  the 
reaction,  or  retributive  measures  threaten- 
ed by  the  moderate  party.  Matters,  it  was 
thought,  could  not  remain  in  this  uncertain 
state,  nor  was  the  present  temporary  pa- 
geant of  government  likely  to  linger  long 
on  the  scene.  But  by  whom  was  that  scene 
next  to  be  opened  ?  Would  a  late  return- 
ing to  ancient  opinions  induce  a  people. 
who  had  suffered  so  much  through  innova- 
tion, to  recall  either  absolutely,  or  upon 
conditions,  the  banished  race  of  her  ancient 
Princes  ?  Or  would  a  new  band  of  Revolu- 
tionists be  permitted  by  Heaven,  in  its  con- 
tinued vengeance,  to  rush  upon  the  stage  ? 
Would  the  supreme  power  become  the 
prize  of  some  soldier  as  daring  as  Csesar. 
or  some  intriguing  statesman  as  artful  as 
Octavius  ?  Would  France  succumb  be- 
neath a  Cromwell  or  a  Monk,  or  again  be 
ruled  by  a  Cabal  of  hackneyed  statesmen, 
or  an  Institute  of  Theoretical  Philosophy, 
or  an  anarchical  Club  of  Jacobins  ?  These 
were  reflections  which  occupied  almost  all 
bosoms.  But  the  hand  of  Fate  was  on  the 
curtain,  and  about  to  bring  the  scene  to 
light. 


CHAP.  ZIZ. 

Coriica. — Family  of  Buonaparte. — Napoleon  bom  lolh  Augtut  1769 — His  early  Hab- 
its—Sent to  the  Royal  Military  School  at  Brienne — His  great  Progress  in  Mathe- 
matical Science — Deficiency  in  Classical  Literature. — Anecdotes  of  him  while  at 
School — Removed  to  the  General  School  of  Paris. —  IVhen  seventeen  Years  Old. 
appointed  2d  Lieutenant  of  Artillery — His  early  Politics — Promoteu  to  a  Captaincy. 
— Pascal  Paoli. — Napoleon  sides  with  the  French  Government  against  Paoli — Along 
with  his  Brother  Lucien,  he  ia  banished  from  Corsica — Never  revisits  it — Alicayt 
unpopular  there. 


The  Island  of  Corsica  was,  in  ancient 
times,  remarkable  as  the  scene  of  Seneca's 
exile,  and  in  the  last  century  was  distin- 
iniished  by  the  memorable  stand  which  the 
natives  made  in  defence  of  their  liberties 
a<^ainst  the  Genoese  and  French,  during  a 
war  which  tended  to  show  the  high  and  in- 
domitable spirit  of  the  islanders,  united  as 
it  i«  with  the  fiery  and  vindictive  feelings 
proper  to  their  country  and  climate. 

In  this  island,  which  was  destined  to  de- 
rive its  future  importaiice  chiefly  from  the 
rircum?:tance.  Napoleon  Buonaparte, 
f>r  Bonaparte,*  had  his  origin.    His  fam- 

*  There  wa»  an  ab?urd  debate  about  the  spelling 
•f  the  name,  which  became,  as  trifles  often  do,  a 
•Mt  ef  {wrt;  qoestioD.    Buonapprte  b4d  diiiued 


ily  was  noble,  though  not  of  much  distinc- 
tion, and  rather  reduced  in  fortune.  Flat- 
tery afterwards  endeavoured  to  trace  the 
name  which  he  had  made  famous,  into  re- 


the  iuperfluous  u,  which  his  father  retained  in  the 
name,  and  adopted  a  more  modern  spelling.  Thii 
was  represented  on  one  side  as  an  attempt  tu 
bring  his  name  more  nearly  to  the  French  idioir  ; 
and,  as  if  it  had  been  a  matter  of  the  lact  moment, 
the  vowel  was  obstinately  replaced  in  the  nanio, 
by  a  class  of  writers  who  deemed  it  pohtic  not  to 
permit  the  successful  General  to  relinquish  th» 
slightest  mark  of  his  Italian  extractiun,  which  wai 
in  every  respect  impossible  fiir  him  either  to  cvn- 
ceal  or  to  deny,  even  if  be  had  nourished  such  an 
idea.  In  his  baptismal  reguter,  his  name  is  fpe.'l- 
ed  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  though  the  father  sub- 
Birribes,  Carlo  Buonaparte.  The  speUing  s**.tiii  !• 
have  be«a  quite  iodiffereat. 


196 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIX. 


mote  ages,  and  researches  were  mtide 
through  ancient  records,  to  discover  that 
there  was  one  Buonaparte  who  had  written 
;t  book,  another  who  had  signed  a  treaty — 
a  female  of  the  name  who  had  given  birth 
to  a  pope,  with  other  minute  claims  of  dis- 
tinction, which  Napoleon  justly  considered 
a3  trivial,  and  unworthy  of  notice.  He  an- 
swered the  Emperor  of  Austria,  who  had  a 
fancy  of  tracing  his  son-in-law's  descent 
from  one  of  the  petty  sovereigns  of  Treviso, 
that  he  was  the  Rodolph  of  Hapsbourg  of 
his  family  ;  and  to  a  genealogist,  who  made 
a  merit  of  deducing  his  descent  from  some 
ancient  line  of  Gothic  princes,  he  caused 
reply  to  be  made,  that  he  dated  his  patent 
of  nobility  from  the  battle  of  Monte  Notte, 
that  is,  from  his  first  victory. 

All  that  is  known  with  certainty  of  Napo- 
leon's family,  may  be  told  in  few  words. 
The  Buonapartes  were  a  family  of  some 
distinction  in  the  middle  ages  ;  their  names 
are  inscribed  in  the  Golden  Book  at  Trevi- 
so, and  their  armorial  bearings  are  to  be 
seen  on  several  houses  in  Florence.  But 
attached,  during  the  civil  war,  to  the  party 
of  the  Ghibellines,  they  of  course  were  per- 
secuted by  the  Guelphs  ;  and  being  exiled 
from  Tuscany^  one  of  the  family  took  ref- 
uge in  Corsica,  and  there  established  him- 
self and  his  successors,  who  were  regularly 
enrolled  among  the  noble  natives  of  the 
island,  and  enjoyed  all  the  privileges  of 
gentle  blood. 

The  father  of  Napoleon,  Charles  Buona- 
parte, was  the  principal  descendant  of  this 
exiled  family.  He  was  regularly  educated 
at  Pisa,  to  the  study  of  the  law,  and  is  stat- 
ed to  have  possessed  a  very  handsome  per- 
son ;  a  talent  for  eloquence,  and  a  vivacity 
of  intellect,  which  he  transmitted  to  his 
son.  He  was  a  patriot  also  and  a  soldier, 
and  ass'sted  at  the  gallant  stand  made  by 
Paoli  against  the  French.  It  is  said  he 
would  have  emigrated  along  with  Paoli, 
who  was  his  friend,  and,  it  is  believed,  his 
kinsman,  but  was  withheld  by  the  influence 
of  his  father's  brother,  Lucien  Buonaparte, 
who  was  Archdeacon  of  the  Cathedral  of 
Ajaccio,  and  the  wealthiest  person  of  the 
family. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  civil  discord, 
fights  and  skirmishes,  that  Charles  Buona- 
parte married  Laetitia  Ramolini,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  young  women  of  the  island, 
and  possessed  of  a  great  deal  of  firmness  of 
character.  She  partook  the  dangers  of  her 
husband  during  the  years  of  civil  war,  and 
is  said  to  have  accompanied  him  on  horse- 
back in  some  military  expeditions,  or  per- 
haps hasty  flights,  shortly  before  her  being 
delivered  of  the  future  Emperor.  Though 
left  a  widow  in  the  prime  of  life,  she  had 
already  borne  her  husband  thirteen  children, 
of  whom  five  sons  and  three  daughters  sur- 
vived him.  I.  Joseph,  the  eldest,  who, 
though  placed  by  his  brother  in  an  obnox- 
ious situation,  as  intrusive  King  of  Spain, 
held  the  reputation  of  a  good  and  moderate 
man.  II.  Napoleon  himself.  III.  Lucien, 
t».^aTce  inferior  to  his  brother  in  ambition 
rtiid  talent.  IV.  Louis,  the  merit  of  whose 
rJiaracter  consists  in  its  unpretending  worth, 


and  who  renounced  a  crown  rather  than 
consent  to  the  oppression  of  his  subjects. 
V.  Jerome,  whose  disposition  is  said  to 
liave  been  chiefly  marked  by  a  tendency  to 
dissipation.  The  females  were,  1.  Maria 
Anne,  afterwards  Grand  Duchess  of  Tusca- 
ny, by  the  name  of  Elisa.  II.  Maria  An- 
nonciada,  who  became  Maria  Pauline, 
Princess  of  Borghese.  III.  Carlotta,  or 
Caroline,  wife  of  Murat,  and  Queen  of 
Naples. 

The  family  of  Buonaparte  being  recon- 
ciled to  the  French  government  after  the 
emigration  of  Paoli,  enjoyed  the  protection 
of  the  Count  de  Marboeuf,  the  French  Gov- 
ernor of  Corsica,  by  whose  interest  Charles 
was  included  in  a  deputation  of  the  nobles 
of  the  island,  sent  to  Louis  X\'I.  in  177C. 
As  a  consequence  of  this  mission,  he  was 
appointed  to  a  judicial  situation,  that  of 
assessor  of  the  tribunal  of  Ajaccio,  the  in- 
come of  which  aided  him  to  maintain  his 
increasing  family,  which  the  smallness  of 
his  patrimony,  and  some  habits  of  expense, 
would  otherwise  have  rendered  ditficult. 
Charles  Buonaparte,  the  father  of  Napole- 
on, died  at  the  age  of  about  forty  years,  of 
an  ulcer  in  the  stomach,  on  the  Sltli  Feb- 
ruary 1785.  His  celebrated  son  fell  a  victim 
to  the  same  disease.  During  Napoleon's 
grandeur,  the  community  of  Montpellier  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  erect  a  monument  to 
the  memory  of  Charles  Buonaparte.  His 
answer  was  both  sensible  and  in  good  taste. 
"  Had  I  lost  my  father  yesterday,"  he  said, 
"  it  would  be  natural  to  pay  his  memory 
som3  mark  of  respect  consistent  with  my 
present  situation.  But  it  is  twenty  years 
since  the  event,  and  it  is  one  in  which  the 
public  can  take  no  concern.  Let  us  leave 
the  dead  in  peace." 

The  subject  of  our  narrative  was  born 
according  to  the  best  accounts,  and  his  own 
belief,  upon  the  15th  day  of  August  176S, 
at  his  father's  house  in  Ajaccio,  forming 
one  side  of  a  court  which  leads  out  of  the 
Rue  Charles.*  We  read  with  interest,  that 
his  mother's  good  constitution,  and  bold 
character  of  mind,  having  induced  her  to 
attend  mass  upon  the  day  of  his  birth,  (be- 
ing the  Festival  of  the  Assumption,)  she 
was  obliged  to  return  home  immediately, 
and  as  there  was  no  time  to  prepare  a  bed 
or  bedroom,  she  was  delivered  of  the  future 
victor  upon  a  temporary  couch  prepared  for 
her  accommodation,  and  covered  with  an 
ancient  piece  of  tapestry,  representing  the 
heroes  of  the  Iliad.  The  infant  was  chris- 
tened by  the  name  of  Napoleon,  an  obscure 
saint,  who  had  dropped  to  leeward,  and  fall- 
en altogether  out  of  the  calendar,  so  that  hia 
namesake  never  knew  which  day  he  ^vas  to 
celebrate  as  the  festival  of  his  patron. 
When  questioned  on  this  subject  by  tlie 
bishop  who  confirmed  him,  he  answered 
smartly,  that  there  were  a  great  many  saints, 
and  only  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days 
to  divide  amongst  them.  The  politeness 
of  the  Pope  promoted  the  patron  in  order 
to  compliment  the  godchild,  and  Saint  Na- 
poleon des  Ursins  was  accommodated  with 

*  ^nsoa's  Sl^etfbes  of  Corsica,  p>  4 


Chap.  XJX.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


197 


a  festival.  To  render  this  compliment, 
which  no  one  but  a  Pope  could  have  paid, 
Btill  more  flattering,  the  feast  of  Saint  Na- 
poleon was  fixed  for  the  fifteenth  August, 
the  birth-day  of  the  Emperor,  and  the  day 
on  which  he  signed  the  Concordat  So 
that  Napoleon  had  the  rare  honour  of  pro- 
moting his  patron  saint. 

The  young  Napoleon  had,  of  course, 
the  simple  and  hardy  education  proper  to 
the  natives  of  the  mountainous  island  of 
his  birth,  and  in  his  infancy  was  not  re- 
markable for  more  than  that  animation  of 
temper,  and  wilfulness  and  impatience  of 
inactivity,  by  which  children  of  quick 
parts  and  lively  sensibility  are  usually  dis- 
tinguished. The  winter  of  the  year  was 
generally  passed  by  the  family  of  liis  fa- 
ther at  Ajaccio,  where  they  still  preserve 
and  exhibit,  as  the  ominous  plaything  of 
Napoleon's  boyhood,  the  model  of  a  brass 
cannon,  weighing  about  thirty  pounds.* 
We  leave  it  to  philosophers  to  inquire, 
whether  the  future  love  of  war  was  suggest- 
ed by  the  accidental  possession  of  such  a 
toy  :  or  whether  the  tendency  of  the  mind 
dictated  the  selection  of  it:  or,  lastly, 
whether  the  nature  of  the  pastime,  corre- 
sponding with  the  taste  which  chose  it, 
may  not  have  had  each  their  action  and  re- 
action, and  contributed  between  them  to 
the  formation  of  a  character  so  warlike. 

The  same  traveller  who  furnishes  the 
above  anecdote,  gives  an  interesting  ac- 
count of  the  country  retreat  of  the  family 
of  Buonaparte,  during  the  summer. 

Going  silong  the  sea-shore  from  Ajaccio 
towards  the  Isle  Sanguiniere,  about  a  mile 
from  the  town,  occur  two  stone  pillars,  the 
remains  of  a  door-way,  leading  up  to  a 
dilapidated  villa,  once  the  residence  of 
Maaame  Buonaparte's  half-brother  on  the 
mother's  side,  whom  Napoleon  created 
Cardinal  Fesch.f  The  house  is  approach- 
ed by  an  avenue,  surrounded  and  overhung 
by  the  cactus  and  other  shrubs,  which  luxu- 
riate in  a  warm  climate.  It  has  a  garden 
and  a  lawa,  showing  amidst  neglect  vesti  • 
ges  of  their  former  beauty,  and  the  house 
is  surrounded  by  shrubberies,  permitted  to 
run  to  wilderness.  This  was  the  summer 
residence  of  Madame  Buonaparte  and  her 
family.  Almost  inclosed  by  the  wild  olive, 
the  cactus,  the  clematis,  and  the  almond- 
tree,  is  a  very  singular  and  isolated  granite 
rock,  cidled Napoleon's  grotto,  which  seems 
to  have  resisted  the  decomposition  which 
has  taken  place  around.  The  remains  of  a 
email  summer-house  are  visible  beneath 
the  rock,  the  entrance  to  which  is  nearly 
closed  by  a  luxuriant  fig-tree.  This  was 
Buonaparte's  frequent  retreat,  when  the 
vacations  of  the  school  at  which  he  studi- 
ed permitted  him  to  visit  home. — How  the 
imagination  labours  to  form  an  idea  of  the 
visions,  which,  in  this  sequestered  and  ro- 
mantic spot,  must  have   arisen  before  the 


•  Sketches  of  Corsica,  p.  4. 

\  The  mother  of  Letitia  Ramolini,  wife  of  Car- 
lo Buonaparte,  married  a  Swiss  officer  in  the 
French  service,  named  Fesch,  after  the  death  of 
Letitia'g  father. 


eyes  of  the  future  hero  of  a  hundred  bat- 
tles ! 

The  Count  de  Marb(Euf,  already  men- 
tioned as  Governor  of  Corsica,  interested 
himself  in  the  young  Napoleon,  so  much  aa 
to  obtain  him  an  appointment  to  the  Roy- 
al Military  School  at  Brienne,  which  was 
maintained  at  the  royal  expense,  in  order 
to  bring  up  youth?  for  the  engineer  and  «r- 
tillery  service.  The  malignity  of  contem- 
porary historians  has  ascribed  a  motive  of 
gallantry  towards  Madame  Buonaparte  as 
the  foundation  of  this  kindness  ;  but  Count 
Marbreuf  had  arrived  at  a  period  of  life 
when  such  connexions  are  not  to  be  pre- 
sumed, nor  did  the  scandal  receive  any 
currency  from  the  natives  of  Ajaccio. 

Nothing  could  be  more  suitable  to  the 
nature  of  young  Buonaparte's  genius,  than 
the  line  of  study  which  thus  fortunately 
was  opened  before  him.  His  ardour  for 
the  abstract  sciences  amounted  to  a  pas- 
sion, and  was  combined  with  a  singular  ap- 
titude for  applying  them  to  the  purposes 
of  war,  while  his  attention  to  pursuits  so 
interesting  and  exhaustless  in  themselves, 
was  stimulated  by  his  natural  ambition  and 
desire  of  distinction.  Almost  all  the  sci- 
entific teachers  at  Brienne,  being  accus- 
tomed to  study  the  character  of  their  pu- 
pils, and  obliged  by  their  duty  to  make 
memoranda  and  occasional  repwrts  on  the 
subject,  spoke  of  the  talents  of  Buona- 
parte, and  the  progress  of  his  studies,  witii 
auiniration.  Circumstances  of  various 
kinds,  exaggerated  or  invented,  have  been 
circulated  concerning  the  youth  of  a  per- 
son so  remarkable.  The  following  are  giv- 
en upon  good  authority.* 

The  conduct  of  Napoleon  among  hie 
companions,  was  that  of  a  studious  and  re- 
served youth,  addicting  himself  deeply  to 
the  means  of  improvement,  and  rather 
avoiding  than  seeking  the  usual  tempta- 
tions to  dissipation  of  time.  He  had  few 
friends,  and  no  intimates,  yet  at  different 
times,  when  he  chose  to  exert  it,  he  exhibit- 
ed considerable  influence  over  his  fellow- 
students,  and  when  there  was  any  joint  plan 
to  be  carried  into  eff"ect,  he  was  frequently 
chosen  Dictator  of  the  little  republic. 

In  the  time  of  winter,  Buonaparte  upon 
one  occasion  engaged  his  companions  in 
constructing  a  fortress  out  of  the  snow, 
regularly  defended  by  ditches  andbastions, 
according  to  the  rules  of  fortification.  It 
was  considered  as  displaying  the  great  pow- 
ers of  the  juvenile  engineer  in  the  way  of 
his  profession,  and  was  attacked  and  de- 
fended by  the  students,  who  divided  into 
parties  for  the  purpose,  until  the  battle  be 
came  so  keen  that  their  superiors  thought 
it  proper  to  proclaim  a  truce. 

The  young  Buonaparte  gave  another  in- 
stance of  address  and  enterprise  upon  the 
following  occasion.    There  was  a  fair  held 


*  They  were  many  years  since  communicated 
to  the  author  by  Messrs.  Joseph  and  Louis  Law, 
brothers  of  General  Baron  Lauriston,  Buonaparte's 
favourite  aid-de-camp.  These  <re"tl<5™^">  "'  ** 
least  Joseph,  were  educated  at  Brienne,  but  at  a 
later  period  than  Napoleon.  Their  distinguiihea 
brother  was  his  contemporary. 


198 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIX. 


annually  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brienne, 
where  the  pupils  of  the  Military  School 
used  to  find  a  day's  amusement ;  but  on  ac- 
count of  a  quarrel  betwixt  them  and  the 
country  people  upon  a  former  occasion,  or 
for  some  such  cause,  the  masters  of  the 
Institution  had  directed  that  the  students 
should  not  on  the  fair-day  be  permitted  to 
go  beyond  their  own  precincts,  which  were 
surrounded  with  a  wall.  Under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  young  Corsican,  however,  the 
scholars  had  already  laid  a  plot  for  securing 
their  usual  day's  diversion.  They  had  un- 
dermined the  wall  which  encompassed  their 
exercising  ground,  with  so  much  skill  and 
secrecy,  that  their  operations  remained  en- 
tirely unknown  till  the  morning  of  the  fair, 
when  a  part  of  the  boundary  une.^pectedly 
tell,  and  gave  a  free  passage  to  the  impris- 
oned students,  of  which  they  immediately 
took  the  advantage,  by  hurrying  to  the  pro- 
hibited scene  of  amusement. 

But  although  on  these,  and  perhaps  other 
occasions,  Buonaparte  displayed  some  of 
the  frolic  temper  of  youth,  mixed  with  the 
inventive  genius  and  the  talent  for  com- 
manding others  by  which  he  was  distin- 
guished in  after  time,  his  life  at  school  was 
in  general  that  of  a  recluse  and  severe  stu- 
dent, acquiring  by  his  judgment,  and  treas- 
uring in  his  memory,  that  wonderful  pro- 
cess of  almost  unlimited  combination,  by 
means  of  which  he  was  afterwards  able  to 
simplify  the  most  difficult  and  complicated 
undertaicings.  His  mathematical  teacher 
was  proud  of  the  young  islander,  as  the 
boast  of  his  school ;  and  his  other  scientific 
instructors  had  the  same  reason  to  be  satis- 
fied. 

In  languages  Buonaparte  was  less  a  pro- 
ficient, and  never  acquired  the  art  of  writ- 
ing or  spelling  French,  far  less  foreign  lan- 
guages, with  accuracy  or  correctness  ;  nor 
had  the  monks  of  Brienne  any  reason  to 
pride  themselves  on  the  classical  proficien- 
cy of  their  scholar.  "The  full  energies  of 
his  mind  being  devoted  to  the  scientific 
pursuits  of  his  profession,  left  little  time 
or  inclination  for  other  studies. 

Though   of   Italian    origin,    Buonaparte 
had  not  a  decided  taste  for  the  fine  arts. 
and  his  taste  in  composition  seems  to  have 
leaned  towards  the  grotesque  and  the  bom- 
bastic.    He  used  always   the   most  exag- 
gerated phrases ;  and  it  is  seldom,  if  ever, 
Siat  his  bulletins  present  those  touches  of 
sublimity  which  are  founded  on  dignity  and 
f    simplicity  of  expression. 
/         Notwithstanding  the  external    calmness 
;     and  reserre  of  his  deportment,  he  who  was 
destined  for  such  great  things,  had,  while 
yet  a  student  at  Brienne,  a  full  share  of  that 
ambition  for  distinction  and  dread  of  dis- 
grace, that  restless  and  irritating  love   of 
fame,  which  is  the  spur  to  extraordinary  at- 
tempts.     Sparkles   of    this  keen    temper 
sometimes  showed  themselves.    On  one  oc- 
casion, a  harsh  superintendent  imposed  on 
the  future  Emperor,  for  some  trifling  fault,  | 
the  disgrace  of  wearing  a  penitential  dress,  j 
and  being  excluded  from  the  table   of  the  | 
students,  and  obliged  to  eat  his  meal  apart.  ) 
His  pride  felt  the  indignity  so   severely,  i 


that  it  brought  on  a  severe  nervous  attack} 
to  which,  though  otherwise  of  good  consti- 
tution, he  was  subject  upon  occasions  of 
extraordinary  irritation.  Father  Petrault, 
the  Professor  of  Mathematics,  hastened  to 
deliver  his  favourite  pupil  from  the  punish- 
ment by  which  he  w.is  so  much  affected. 

It  is  also  said  that  an  early  disposition  to 
the  popular  side  distinguished  Buonaparte 
even  when  at  Brienne.  Pichegru,  after- 
wards so  celebrated,  who  acted  as  his  moni- 
tor in  the  military  school,  (a  singular  cir- 
cumstance,) bore  witness  to  his  early  prin- 
ciples, and  to  the  peculiar  energy  and  te- 
nacity of  his  temper.  He  was  long  after- 
wards consulted  whether  means  might  not 
be  found  to  engage  the  commander  of  the 
Italian  armies  in  the  royal  interest.  "  It 
will  be  but  lost  time  to  attempt  it,"  said 
Pichegru.  "  I  knew  him  in  his  youth — his 
character  is  inflexible — he  has  taken  hia 
side,  and  he  will  not  change  it." 

In  1783,  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  then  only 
fourteen  years  old,  was,  though  under  the 
usual  age,  selected  by  Monsieur  de  Kera- 
lio,  the  inspector  of  the  twelve  military 
schools,  to  be  sent  to  have  his  education 
completed  in  the  general  school  of  Paris. 
It  was  a  compliment  paid  to  the  precocity 
of  his  extraordinary  mathematical  talent, 
and  the  steadiness  of  his  application.  While 
at  Paris  he  attracted  the  same  notice  as  at 
Brienne ;  and  among  other  society,  fre- 
quented that  of  the  celebrated  Abbe  Ray- 
nal,  and  was  admitted  to  his  literary  parties. 
His  taste  did  not  become  correct,  but  hia 
appetite  for  study  in  all  departments  waa 
greatly  enlarged ;  and  notwithstanding  the 
quantity  which  he  daily  read,  his  memory 
was  strong  enough  to  retain,  and  his  judg- 
ment sufficiently  ripe  to  arrange  and  digest, 
the  knowledge  which  he  then  acquired  ;  so 
that  he  had  it  at  his  command  during  all  the 
rest  of  his  busy  life.  Plutarch  was  his  fa- 
Tourite  author  ;  upon  the  study  of  whom  he 
had  so  modelled  his  opinions  and  habits  of 
thought,  that  Paoli  afterwards  pronounced 
him  a  young  man  of  an  antique  caste,  and 
resembling  one  of  the  classical  herdfes. 

Some  of  his  biographers  have  about  this 
time  ascribed  to  him  the  anecdote  of  a  cer» 
tain  youthful  pupil  of  the  military  school, 
who  desired  to  ascend  in  the  car  of  a  bal- 
loon with  the  aeronaut  Blanchard,  and  waa 
so  mortified  at  being  refused,  that  he  made 
an  attempt  to  cut  the  balloon  with  hia 
sword.  The  story  has  but  a  flimsy  support, 
and  indeed  does  not  accord  well  with  the 
character  of  the  hero,  which  was  deep  and 
reflective,  as  well  as  bold  and  determined, 
and  not  likely  to  suflfcr  its  energies  to  es- 
cape in  idle  and  useless  adventure. 

A  better  authenticated  anecdote  states, 
that  at  this  time  he  expressed  himself  disre- 
spectfully towards  the  King  in  one  of  hia 
letters  to  his  family.  According  to  the 
practice  of  the  school,  he  Nvas  obliged  to 
submit  the  letter  to  the  censorship  of  Mon- 
sieur Domairon,  the  Professor  ol  Belles 
Lettres,  who,  taking  notice  of  the  offensive 
passage,  insisted  iipun  the  letter  being  burnt, 
and  added  a  severe  rebuke.  Long  after- 
wards, in    1802,   Monsieur  Domairon  wa« 


Chap.  XIX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


199 


commanded  to  attend  Napoleon's  levee,  in 
order  that  he  might  receive  a  pupil  in  the 

r^rson  of  Jerome  Buonaparte ;  when  the 
irst  Consul  reminded  his  old  tutor  good- 
bumouredly,.  that  times  had  changed  con- 
siderably smce  the  burning  of  the  letter. 

Napoleon  Buonaparte,  in  his  seventeenth 
year,  received  his  first  commission  as  sec- 
ond lieutenant  in  a  regiment  of  artillery, 
and  was  almost  immediately  afterv.-ards  pro- 
moted to  the  rank,  of  first  lieutenant  in  the 
corps  quartered  at  Valance.  He  mingled 
with  society  when  he  joined  his  regiment, 
more  than  he  had  hitherto  been  accustomed 
to  do ;  mixed  in  public  amusements,  and  ex- 
hibited the  powers  of  pleasing  which  he 
possessed  in  an  uncommon  degree,  when  he 
chose  to  exert  them.  His  handsome  and 
intelligent  features,  with  his  active  and 
neat,  though  slight  figure,  gave  him  addi- 
tional advantages.  His  manners  could 
scarcely  be  called  elegant,  but  made  up  in 
vivacity  and  variety  of  expression,  and  of- 
ten in  great  spirit  and  energy,  for  what  they 
wanted  in  grace  and  polish. 

He  became  an  adventurer  lor  the  honours 
of  literature  also,  and  was  anonymously  a 
competitor  for  the  prize  off'ered  by  the  acad- 
emy of  Lyons  on  Raynal's  question,  "  What 
are  the  principles  and  institutions,  by  ap- 
plication of  which  mankind  can  be  raised 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  happiness  ?"  The 
prize  was  adjudged  to  the  young  soldier.  It 
u  impossible  to  avoid  feeling  curiosity  to 
know  the  character  of  the  juvenile  theories 
respecting  government,  advocated  by  one 
who  at  length  attained  the  power  of  practi- 
cally making  what  experiments  he  pleased. 
Probably  his  early  ideas  did  not  exactly  co- 
incide with  his  more  mature  practice  ;  for 
when  Talleyrand,  many  years  afterwards, 
got  the  Essay  out  of  the  records  of  the 
Academy,  and  returned  it  to  the  author, 
Buonaparte  destroyed  it  after  he  had  read  a 
few  paiges.  He  also  laboured  under  the 
temptation  of  writing  a  journey  to  Mount 
Cenis,  after  the  manner  of  Sterne,  which 
he  was  fortunate  enough  finally  to  resist. 
The  affectation  which  pervades  Sterne's  pe- 
culiar style  of  composition,  was  not  likely 
to  be  simplified  under  the  pen  of  Buona- 
parte. 

Sterner  times  were  fast  approaching,  and 
the  nation  v/as  now  fully  divided  by  those 
factions  which  produced  the  Revolution. 
The  officers  of  Buonaparte's  regiment  were 
also  divided  into  Royalists  and  Patriots ; 
and  it  is  easily  to  be  imagined,  that  the 
young  and  friendless  stranger  and  adven- 
turer should  adopt  that  side  to  which  he 
had  already  shown  some  inclination,  and 
which  promised  to  open  the  most  free  ca- 
reer to  those  who  had  only  their  merit  to 
rely  upon.  "  Were  I  general  officer,"  he  is 
alleged  to  have  said,  "  I  would  have  ad- 
hered to  the  King ;  being  a  subaltern,  I  join 
the  Patriots." 

There  was  a  story  current,  that  in  a  de- 
bate with  some  brother  officers  on  the  poli- 
tics of  the  time,  Buonaparte  expressed  him- 
self eo  outrageously,  that  they  were  provok- 
ed to  throw  him  into  the  Rhone,  where  he 
had  nearly  perished.     But  this  ie  an   inac- 


curate account  of  the  accident  which  ac- 
tually befell  him.  He  was  seized  with  the 
cramp  when  bathing  in  t'.ie  river.  His  com- 
rades saved  him  with  difficulty,  but  his  dan- 
ger was  matter  of  pure  chance. 

Napoleon  has  himself  recorded  that  he 
was  a  warm  patriot  during  the  whole  sitting 
of  the  National  .\ssembly  ;  but  that  on  the 
appointment  of  the  Legislative  Assembly, 
he  became  shaken  in  his  opinions.  If  so, 
his  original  sentiments  regained  force  ;  for 
we  shortly  afterwards  find  him  entertaining 
such  as  went  to  the  extreme  heights  of  tne 
Revolution. 

Early  in  the  year  1792,  Buonaparte  be- 
came a  captain  in  the  artillerj'  by  seniori- 
ty ;  and  in  the  s.ime  year,  being  at  Paris,  he 
witnessed  the  two  insurrections  of  the  22d 
June  and  10th  .\ugust.  He  was  accustom- 
ed to  speak  of  the  insurgents  as  the  most 
despicable  banditti,  and  to  express  with 
what  ease  a  determined  officer  could  have 
checked  these  apparently  formiJable,  but 
dastardly  and  unwieldy  masses.  But  with 
what  a  different  feeling  of  interest  would 
Napoleon  have  looked  on  that  infuriated 
populace,  those  still  resisting  though  over- 
powered Swiss,  and  that  burning  palace,  had 
any  seer  whispered  to  him,  ''  Emperor  that 
shall  be,  all  this  blood  and  massacre  is  but 
to  prepa'e  your  future  empire  !"  Little  an- 
ticipatisag  the  potent  effect  which  the  pass- 
ing eveats  were  to  bear  on  his  owti  fortune, 
Buonaparte,  anxious  for  the  safety  of  bis 
mother  and  family,  was  now  desirous  to  ex- 
change France  for  Corsica,  where  the  same 
things  were  acting  on  a  less  distinguished 
stage. 

It  was  a  singular  feature  in  the  French 
Revolution,  that  it  brought  out  from  his  re- 
tirement the  celebrated  Pascal  Paoli,  who, 
long  banished  from  Corsica,  the  freedom 
and  independence  of  which  he  had  so  val- 
iantly delended,  returned  from  exile  with 
the  Sattering  hope  of  still  witnessing  the 
progress  of  liberty  in  his  native  land.  On 
visiting  Paris,  he  was  received  there  with 
enthusiastic  veneration,  and  the  National 
Assembly  and  Royal  Family  contended 
which  should  show  him  most  distinction. 
He  was  created  President  of  the  Depart- 
ment, and  Commander  of  the  National 
Guard  of  his  native  island,  and  used  the 
powers  intrusted  to  him  with  great  wisdom 
and  patriotism. 

But  Paoli's  views  of  liberty  were  differ- 
ent from  those  which  unhappily  began  to 
be  popular  in  France.  He  was  desirous  of 
establishing  that  freedom,  which  is  the  pro- 
tector, not  the  destroyer  of  property,  and 
which  confers  practical  happiness,  instead 
of  aiming  at  theoretical  perfection.  In  a 
word,  he  endeavoured  to  keep  Corsica  free 
from  the  prevailing  infection  of  Jacobinism; 
and  in  reward,  he  was  denounced  in  the 
Assembly.  Paoli,  summoned  to  attend  ibr 
the  purpose  of  standing  on  his  defence,  de- 
clined the  journey  on  account  of  his  age, 
but  offered  to  withdraw  from  the  island. 

A  large  proportion  of  the  inhabitants  took 
part  with  the  aged  champion  of  their  free- 
dom, while  the  Convention  sent  an  expedi- 
tion, at  the  head  of  which  were  La  Combe, 


200 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XIX, 


Saint  Michel,  and  Salicetti,  one  of  the 
Corsican  deputies  to  the  Convention,  with 
the  usual  instructions  for  bloodshed  and 
pillage  issued  to  their  commissaries. 

Buonaparte  was  in  Corsica,  upon  leave 
of  absence  from  hie  regiment,  when  these 
events  were  taking  place  ;  and  although  he 
himself,  and  Paoli,  had  hitherto  been  on 
friendly  terms,  and  some  family  relations 
existed  between  them,  the  young  artillery 
officer  did  not  hesitate  which  side  to  choose. 
He  embraced  that  of  the  Convention  witli 
heart  and  hand  ;  and  his  first  military  ex- 
ploit was  in  the  civil  war  of  his  native  isl- 
and. In  the  year  1793,  he  was  despatched 
from  Bastia,  in  possession  of  the  French 
party,  to  surprise  his  native  town  Ajaccio, 
then  occupied  by  Paoli  or  his  adherents. 
Buonaparte  was  acting  provisionally,  as 
commanding  a  battalion  of  National  Guards. 
He  landed  in  the  Gulf  of  Ajaccio  with 
about  fifty  men,  to  take  possession  of  a 
tower  called  the  Torre  di  Capitello,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  gulf,  and  almost  facing 
the  city.  He  succeeded  in  taking  the 
place ;  but  as  there  arose  a  gale  of  wind 
which  prevented  his  communicating  with 
the  frigate  which  had  put  him  ashore,  he 
was  besieged  in  his  new  conquest  by  the 
opposite  faction,  and  reduced  to  such  dis- 
tress, that  he  and  his  littie  garrison  were 
obliged  to  feed  on  horse-flesh.  After  five 
days  he  was  relieved  by  the  frigate,  and 
evacuated  the  tower,  having  first  in  vain 
attempted  to  blow  it  up.  The  Torre  di 
Capitello  still  shows  marks  of  tlie  damage 
it  then  sustained,  and  its  remains  may  be 
looked  on  as  a  curiosity,  as  the  first  scene 
of  Am  combats,  before  whom 

'♦  Temple  and  tower 

Went  to  the  ground "* 

A  relation  of  Napoleon,  Masserio  by  name, 
effectually  defended  Ajaccio  against  the 
force  employed  in  the  expedition. 

The  strength  of  Paoli  increasing,  and  the 
English  preparing  to  assist  him,  Corsica 
became  no  longer  a  safe  or  convenient  res- 
idence for  the  Buonaparte  family.  Indeed, 
both  Napoleon  and  his  brother  Lucien,who 


*  Such  is  the  report  of  theCorsicans,  concerning 
the  alleged  fiist  exploit  of  their  celebrated  coun- 
tryman, bee  Bensrn's  Sketches,  p.  4.  But  there 
is  room  to  believe  that  Buonaparte  had  been  in 
action  so  early  as  February  1793.  Admiral  Tru- 
euet,  with  a  strong  fleet,  and  having  on  board  a 
large  body  of  troops,  had  been  at  anchor  for  several 
weeks  in  the  Corsican  harbours,  announcing  a  de- 
icent  upon  Sardinia.  At  length,  having  received 
on  board  an  additional  number  of  forces,  he  set 
sail  on  his  expedition.  Buonaparte  is  supposed  to 
have  accompanied  the  Admiral,  of  whose  talent 
and  judgment  he  is  made  in  the  Saint  Helena  MSS. 
to  speak  with  great  contempt.  Buonaparte  suc- 
ceeded in  taking  some  batteries  in  the  straits  of 
Saint  Bonifacio  j  but  the  expedition  proving  un- 
successful, they  were  speedily  abandoned. 


had  distinguished  themselves  as  partisans 
of  the  French,  were  subjected  to  a  decree 
of  banishment  from  their  native  island  5  and 
Madame  Buonaparte,  with  her  three  daugh- 
ters, and  Jerome,  who  was  as  yet  but  achild, 
set  sail  under  their  protection,  and  settled 
for  a  time,  first  at  Nice,  and  afterwards  at 
Marseilles,  where  the  family  is  supposed  to 
have  undergone  considerable  distress,  until 
the  dawning  prospects  of  Napoleon  afforded 
him  the  means  of  assisting  them. 

Napoleon  never  again  revisited  Corsica, 
nor  does  he  appear  to  have  regarded  it  with 
any  feelings  of  affection.  One  small  foun- 
tain at  Ajaccio  is  pointed  out  as  the  only 
ornament  which  his  bounty  bestowed  oa 
his  birth-place.  He  might  perhaps  think 
it  impolitic  to  do  anything  whicli  might  re- 
mind the  country  he  ruled  that  lie  was  not 
a  child  of  her  soil,  nay,  was  in  fact  very  near 
having  been  bom  an  alien,  for  Corsica  was 
not  united  to,  or  made  an  integral  part  of 
France,  until  June  1769,  a  few  weeks  only  be- 
fore Napoleon's  birth.  This  stigma  was  re- 
peatedly cast  upon  him  by  his  opponents, 
some  of  whom  reproached  the  French  with 
having  adopted  a  master,  from  a  country  from 
which  the  ancient  Romans  were  unwilling 
even  to  choose  a  slave  ;  and  Napoleon  may 
have  been  so  far  sensible  to  it,  as  to  avoid 
showing  any  predilection  to  the  place  of  his 
birth,  which  might  bring  the  circumstance 
strongly  under  observation  of  the  great  na- 
tion, with  which  he  and  his  family  seemed 
to  be  indissolubly  united.  But,  as  a  travel- 
ler already  quoted,  and  who  had  the  best 
opportunities  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  feelings  of  the  proud  islanders,  has  ex- 
pressed it, — "  The  Corsicans  are  still  highly 
patriotic,  and  possess  strong  local  attach- 
ment— in  their  opinion,  contempt  for  the 
country  of  one's  birth  is  never  to  be  re- 
deemed by  any  other  qualities.  Napoleon, 
therefore,  certainly  was  not  popular  in 
Corsica,  nor  is  his  memory  cherished 
there."* 

The  feelings  of  the  parties  were  not  un- 
natural on  either  side.  Napoleon,  little 
interested  in  the  land  of  his  birth,  and  hav- 
ing such  an  immense  stake  in  that  of  his 
adoption,  in  which  he  had  everything  to 
keep  and  lose,f  observed  a  policy  towards 
Corsica  which  his  position  rendered  advisa- 
ble J  and  who  can  blame  the  high-spirited 
islanders,  who,  seeing  one  of  their  country- 
men raised  to  such  exalted  eminence, 
and  disposed  to  forget  his  connexion  with 
them,  returned  with  slight  and  indifference 
the  disregard  with  which  he  treated  them  T 


*  Benson's  Sketches  of  Corsica,  p.  121. 

f  Not  literally,  however  ;  for  it  is  worth  men- 
tioning, that  when  he  was  in  full-blown  possessioa 
of  his  power,  an  inheritance  fell  to  the  family  situ- 
ated near  Ajaccio,  and  was  divided  amongst  them. 
The  first  Consul,  or  Emprror,  received  an  olive 
garden  as  his  share. — Sketches  of  Corsica. 


Chop.  XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


201 


CHAP.  XX. 

Sitge  of  Toulon. — Recapitulation. — Buonaparte  appointed  Brigadier- General  of  Ar- 
tillery, with  the  Command  qf  the  Artillery  at  Toulon — Finds  everything  in  disorder 
— His  Plan  for  obtaining  the  Surrender  of  the  Place — Adopted. — Anecdotes  during 
the  Siege. — Allied  Troops  resolve  to  evacuate  Toulon — Dreadful  Particulars  of  the 
Evacuation — England  censured  on  this  occasion. — Lord  Lynedoch. — Fame  of  Buon- 
aparte increases,  and  he  is  appointed  Chief  of  Battalion  in  the  Army  of  Italy — Joins 
Head-quarters  at  Nice. — On  the  Fall  of  Robespierre,  Buonaparte  superseded  in  com- 
mand— Arrives  in  Paris  in  May  1795  to  solicit  employment — He  is  unsuccessful. — 
Talma. — Retrospect  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  National  Assembly. — Difficulties  in 
forming  a  new  Cotistitution. — Appointment  of  the  Directory — of  the  Two  Council* 
of  Elders  and  of  Five  Hundred. — Nation  at  large,  and  Paris  in  particular,  disgusted 
XDith  their  pretensions. — Paris  assembles  in  Sections. — General  Danican  appointed 
their  Commander-in-Chief. — Menou  appointed  by  the  Directory  to  disarm  the  Nation- 
al Guards — brit  suspended  for  incapacity — Buonaparte  appointed  in  hi.t  room. —  The 
Day  of  the  Sections. — Conflict  betwixt  the  Troops  of  the  Convention  under  Buona- 
parte, and  those  of  the  Sections  of  Paris  under  Danican. —  The  latter  defeated  with 
much  slaughter. — Buonaparte  appointed  Second  in  Command  of  the  Army  of  the  In- 
terior— then  General  iii  Chief— Marries  Madame  Beauharnois — Her  Character. — 
Buonaparte  immediately  afterwards  joins  the  Army  of  Italy. 

a  few  battalions,  would  have  been  requi- 
site ;  and  a  general  of  consummate  ability 
must  have  held  the  chief  command.  This 
was  the  more  especially  necessary,  as  Tou- 
lon, from  the  nature  of  the  place,  must 
have  been  defended  by  a  war  of  posts,  re- 
quiring peculiar  alertness,  sagacity,  and  vi- 
gilance. On  the  other  hand,  there  were  cir- 
cumstances very  favourable  for  the  de- 
fence, had  it  been  conducted  with  talent 
and  vigour.  In  order  to  invest  Toulon  on 
the  right  and  left  side  at  once,  it  was  neces- 
sary there  should  be  two  distinct  blockad 
ing  armies  ;  and  these  could  scarce  com- 
municate with  each  other,  as  a  steep  ridge 
of  mountains,  called  Pharon,  must  inter- 
pose betwixt  them.  This  gave  opportunity 
to  the  besieged  to  combine  their  force,  and 
choose  the  object  of  attack  when  they  sal- 
lied ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  two  bod- 
ies of  besiegers  could  not  easily  connect 
their  operations,  either  for  attack  or  de- 
fence. 

Lord  Mulgrave,  who  commanded  person- 
ally in  the  place,  notwithstanding  th6  mot- 
ley character  of  the  garrison,  and  other  dis- 
couraging circumstances,  began  the  defence 
with  spirit.  Sir  George  Keith  Elphinstone 
also  defeated  the  Republicans  at  tne  moun- 
tain-pass, called  OUioulles.  The  English 
for  some  time  retained  possession  of  this 
important  gorge,  but  were  finally  driven  out 
ffom  it.  Cartaux,  a  republican  general 
whom  we  have  already  mentioned,  now  ad- 
vanced on  the  west  of  Toulon,  at  the  head 
of  a  very  considerable  army,  while  General 
Lanoype  blockaded  the  city  on  the  east, 
with  a  part  of  the  army  of  Italy.  It  was  the 
object  of  the  French  to  approach  Toulon 
on  both  sides  of  the  mountainous  ridge  call- 
ed Pharon.  But  on  the  east  the  town  was 
covered  by  the  strong  and  regular  fort  of 
La  Malgue,  and  on  the  west  side  of  the 
road  by  a  less  formidable  work,  called  Mnl 
bosquet.  To  support  Malbosquet,  and  to 
protect  the  entrance  to  the  roadstead  .ind 
the  harbour,  the  English  engineers  fortified 
with  great  skill  an  eminence,  called  Hai»- 
teur  de  Graase.    The  height  bent  into  \ 


The  siege  of  Toulon  was  the  first  incident 
of  importance,  which  enabled  Buonaparte  to 
distinguish  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  French 
government,  and  of  the  world  at  large. 

We  have  already  mentioned  that  a  gene- 
ral diffidence  and  dread  of  the  proceedings 
of  the  Jacobins,  joined  to  the  intrigues  of 
the  Girondists,  had,  after  the  fall  of  the  lat- 
ter party,  induced  several  of  the  princi- 
pal towns  in  France  to  take  arms  against 
the  Convention,  or  rather  against  the  Jac- 
obin party,  who  had  attained  the  com- 
plete mastery  in  that  body.  We  have  also 
said  that  Toulon,  taking  a  more  decided 
step  than  either  Marseilles  or  Lyons,  had 
declared  for  the  King  and  the  Constitution 
of  1791,  and  invited  the  support  of  lb  j  F.ng- 
lish  and  Spanish  squadrons,  who  •xere  cruis- 
ing upon  the  coast.  A  disembarkation  was 
made,  and  a  miscellaneous  force  Iiastily 
collected,  of  Spaniards,  Sardinians,  Neapol- 
itans, and  English,  was  thrown  into  the 
place. 

This  was  one  of  the  critical  periods  when 
vigorous  measures,  on  the  part  of  the  allies, 
might  have  produced  marked  effects  on  the 
result  of  the  war.  Toulon  is  the  Arsenal 
of  France,  and  contained  at  that  time  im- 
mense naval  stores,  besides  a  fleet  of  sev- 
enteen sail  of  the  line  ready  for  sea,  and 
thirteen  or  fourteen  more,  which  stood  in 
need  of  refitting.  The  possession  of  it  was 
of  the  last  importance,  and  with  a  suffi- 
ciently large  garrison,  or  rather  an  army 
strong  enough  to  cover  the  more  exposed 
points  without  the  town,  the  English  might 
nave  maintained  their  footing  at  Toulon,  as 
they  did  at  a  later  period  both  at  Lisbon 
.■uid  Cadiz.  The  sea  would,  by  maintaining 
the  defensive  lines  necessary  to  protect 
the  roadstead,  have  been  entirely  at  the 
cpmmand  of  the  besieged ;  and  they  could 
have  been  supplied  with  provisions  in  any 
quantity  from  Sicily,  or  the  Barbary  States, 
vrhile  the  besiegers  would  have  experienc- 
ed great  difficulty,  such  was  the  dearth  in 
Provence  at  the  time,  in  supporting  their 
own  army.  But  to  have  played  this  bold 
^juae.  tiie  presence  of  an  arm^,  instead  of 
Vofc.  I.  18 


202 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XX. 


sort  of  baj,  the  two  promontories  of  which 
were  secured  by  redoubts,  named  L'Eguil- 
lotte  and  Balagniere,  which  communicated 
with  and  supported  the  new  fortification, 
which  the  English  had  termed  Fort  Mul- 
grave. 

Several  sallies  and  skirmishes  took  place, 
m  most  of  which  the  Republicans  were 
worsted.  Lieutenant-General  O'Hara  ar- 
rived from  Gibraltar  with  reinforcements, 
and  assumed  the  chief  command. 

Little  could  be  said  for  the  union  of  the 
commanders  within  Toulon ;  yet  their  en- 
terprises were  so  far  successful,  that  the 
French  began  to  be  alarmed  at  the  slow 
progress  of  the  siege.  The  dearth  of  pro- 
visions was  daily  increasing,  the  discontent 
of  the  people  of  Provence  was  augmented; 
the  Catholics  were  numerous  in  the  neigh- 
bouring districts  of  Vivarais  and  Lower 
Languedoc  ;  and  Barras  and  Freron  wrote 
from  Marseilles  to  the  Convention,  suggest- 
ing that  the  siege  of  Toulon  should  be  rais- 
ed,* and  the  besieging  army  withdrawn  be- 
yond the  Duramce.  But  while  weaker 
minds  were  despairing,  talents  of  the  first 
order  were  preparing  to  achieve  the  con- 
quest of  Toulon. 

Buonaparte,  since  his  return  from  Corsi- 
ca, seems  to  have  enjoyed  some  protection 
from  his  countryman  Salicetti,  the  only 
one  of  the  Corsican  deputies  who  voted 
for  the  King's  death,  and  a  person  to  whom 
the  young  artillery  officer  had  been  known 
during  the  civil  war  of  his  native  island. 
Napoleon  had  shown  that  his  own  opinions 
were  formed  on  the  model  of  the  times,  by 
a  small  Jacobin  publication,  called  Le  Sou- 
per  de  Beaucaire,  a  political  dialogue  be- 
tween Marat  and  a  Federalist,  in  %vhich  the 
latter  is  overwhelmed  and  silenced  by  the 
arguments  and  eloquence  of  the  Friend  of 
the  People.  Of  this  juvenile  production 
Buonaparte  was  afterwards  so  much  asham- 
ed, that  he  caused  the  copies  to  be  collect- 
ed and  destroyed  with  the  utmost  rigour, 
so  that  it  is  now  almost  impossible  to  meet 
with  one.  It  is  whimsical  to  observe,  that, 
in  the  manuscripts  of  Saint  Helena,  he 
mentions  this  publication  as  one  in  which 
he  assumed  the  mask  of  Jacobin  principles, 
merely  to  convince  the  Girondists  and  Roy- 
alists that  they  were  choosing  an  unfit  time 
for  insurrection,  and  attempting  it  in  a 
bopelees  manner.  He  adds,  that  it  made 
many  converts. 

Buonaparte's  professional  qualifications 
were  still  better  vouched  than  the  sound- 
ness of  his  political  principles,  though  these 
were  sufficiently  decided.  The  notes  which 
the  inspectors  of  the  Military  School  al- 
ways preserve  concerning  their  scholars, 
described  his  genius  as  being  of  the  first  or- 
der ;  and  to  these  he  owed  his  promotion  to 
the  rank  of  a  brigadier-general  of  artillery, 
with  the  command  of  the  artillery  during 
the  siege  of  Toulon. 

^Vhen  he  had  arrived  at  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion, and  had  visited  the  posts  of  the  be- 


*  This  letter  apptaire<l  in  the  Moniteur,  10th  De- 
roirber  1733.  But  as  the  town  of  Toulon  was  ta- 
km  a  few  days  afterwards,  the  CoDveotioa  voted 
iha  lettec  a  fabriaatioo 


sieging  army,  he  found  so  many  marks  of 
incapacity,  that  he  could  not  conceal  his 
astonishment.  Batteries  had  been  erect* 
ed  for  destroying  the  English  shipping,  but 
they  were  three  gun-shots'  distance  from 
the  point  which  they  were  designed  to 
command;  red-hot  balls  were  preparing, 
but  they  were  not  heated  in  furnaces  be- 
side the  guns,  but  in  the  country-houses  in 
the  neighbourhood  at  the  most  ridiculous 
distance,  as  if  they  had  been  articles  of  ea- 
sy and  ordinary  transportation.  Buonaparte 
with  difficulty  obtained  General  Cartaux's 
permission  to  make  a  shot  or  two  by  way 
of  experiment ;  and  when  they  fell  more 
than  half-way  short  of  the  mark,  the  Gener- 
al had  no  excuse  but  to  rail  against  the  aris- 
tocrats, who  had,  he  said,  spoiled  tha  quality 
of  the  powder  with  which  he  was  supplied. 
The  young  officer  of  artillery,  with  pru- 
dence, and  at  the  same  time  with  spirit 
made  his  remonstrances  to  the  member  of 
Convention,  Gasparin,  who  witnessed  th« 
experiment,  and  explained  the  necessity  of 
proceeding  more  systematically,  if  any  suc- 
cessful result  was  expected. 

At  a  council  of  war,  where  Gasparin 
presided,  the  instructions  of  the  Committee 
of  Public  Safety  were  read,  directing  that 
the  siege  of  Toulon  should  be  commenced 
according  to  the  usual  forms,  by  investing 
the  body  of  the  place,  in  other  words,  the 
citv  itself  The  orders  of  the  Committe« 
of  Public  Safety  were  no  safe  subject  of 
discussion  or  criticism  for  those  who  wer« 
to  act  under  them  ;  yet  Buonaparte  ventur- 
ed to  recommend  their  being  departed  from 
on  this  important  occasion.  His  compre- 
hensive genius  had  at  once  discovered  a  less 
direct,  yet  more  certain  manner,  of  obtain- 
ing the  surrender  of  the  place.  He  advi^ 
ed,  that  neglecting  the  body  of  the  town, 
the  attention  of  the  besiegers  should  be 
turned  to  attain  possession  of  the  promoi>- 
tory  called  Hauteur  de  Grasse,  by  driving 
the  besieged  from  the  strong  work  of  Fort 
Mulgrave.  and  the  two  redoubts  of  L'EguiU 
lette  and  Balagniere,  by  means  of  which  the 
English  had  established  the  line  of  defence 
necessary  to  protect  the  fleet  and  harbour. 
The  fortress  of  Malbosquet,  on  the  same 
point,  he  also  recommended  as  a  principai 
object  of  attack.  He  argued,  that  if  the  be- 
siegers succeeded  in  possessing  themselves 
of  these  fortifications,  they  must  obtain  a 
complete  command  of  the  roads  where  the 
English  fleet  lay,  and  oblige  them  to  put 
to  sea.  They  would,  in  the  same  manner, 
effectually  command  the  entrance  of  the 
bay,  and  prevent  supplies  or  provisions 
from  being  thrown  into  the  city.  If  th* 
garrison  were  thus  in  danger  of  being  to- 
tally cut  off"  from  supplies  by  their  vessels 
being  driven  from  their  anchorage,  it  waa 
natural  to  suppose  that  the  English  troop* 
would  rather  evacuate  Toulon  than  remain 
within  the  place,  blockaded  on  all  sides, 
until  they  might  be  compelled  to  surrender 
by  famir,e. 

The  plan  was  adopted  by  the  council  of 
war  after  much  hesitation,  and  the  yoanii 
officer  by  whom  it  was  projected  receiveo 
full  powers  to  carry  it  c.o.   Ue  laiiied  roatMl 


Ghttp   XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


203 


him  a  number  of  excellent  artillery  officers 
&nd  soldiers ;  assembled  against  Toulon 
more  than  two  hundred  pieces  of  cannon, 
well  ser/ed  ;  and  stationed  them  so  advan- 
tageously, that  he  annoyed  considerably  the 
English  vessels  in  the  roads,  even  before 
he  had  constructed  those  batteries  on  which 
he  depended  for  reducing  Fort  Mulgrave 
and  Malbosquet,  by  which  they  were  in  a 
great  measure  protected. 

In  the  meanwhile,  General  Doppet,  for- 
merly a  physician,  had  superseded  Cartaux, 
whose  incapacity  could  no  longer  be  con- 
cealed by  his  rhodomontading  language  ; 
and,  wonderful  to  tell,  it  had  nearly  been 
the  fate  of  the  ex-doctor  to  take  Toulon,  at 
a  time  when  such  an  event  seemed  least 
within  his  calculation.  A  tumultuary  attack 
of  Bome  of  the  young  French  Carmagnoles 
on  a  body  of  Spanish  troops  which  garrison- 
ed Fort  Mulgrave,  had  very  nearly  been 
successful.  Buonaparte  galloped  to  the 
spot,  hurrying  his  reluctant  commander 
along  with  him,  and  succours  were  ordered 
to  advance  to  support  the  attack,  when  an 
aid-de-camp  was  shot  by  Doppet's  side  ;  on 
which  the  medical  general,  considering  this 
as  a  bad  symptom,  pronounced  the  case 
desperate,  and,  to  Buonaparte's  great  indig- 
nation, ordered  a  retreat  to  be  commenced. 
Doppet  being  found  as  incapable  as  Car- 
taux, was  in  his  turn  superseded  by  Du- 
gommier,  a  veteran  who  had  served  for  fifty 
years,  was  covered  with  scars,  and  as  fear- 
less as  the  weapon  he  wore. 

From  this  time  the  Commandant  of  Ar- 
tillery, having  the  complete  concurrence 
of  his  General,  had  no  doubt  of  success. 
To  ensure  it,  however,  he  used  the  utmost 
vigilance  and  exertion,  and  exposed  his  per- 
son to  every  risk. 

One  of  the  dangers  which  he  incurred 
was  of  a  singular  character.  An  artillery- 
man being  shot  at  the  gun  which  he  was 
serving,  while  Napoleon  was  visiting  a  bat- 
tery, he  took  up  the  dead  man"s  rammer, 
and  to  give  encouragement  to  the  soldiers, 
charged  the  gun  repeatedly  with  his  own 
hands.  In  consequence  of  using  this  im- 
plement he  caught  an  infectious  cutaneous 
complaint,  which,  being  injudiciously  treat- 
ed and  thrown  inward,  was  of  great  preju- 
dice to  his  health,  until  after  his  Italian 
campaigns,  when  he  was  completely  cured 
by  Dr  Corvissart;  after  which,  for  the  first 
time,  he  showed  that  tendency  to  embon- 
point, which  marked  the  latter  part  of  his 
Ufe. 

Upon  another  occasion,  while  Napoleon 
was  overlooking  the  construction  nl  a  bat- 
tery, which  the  enemy  endeavoured  to  in- 
terrupt by  their  fire,  he  called  tor  some  per- 
son who  could  write,  that  he  might  dictate 
an  order.  A  young  soldier  stepped  out  of 
the  ranks,  and  resting  the  paper  on  the 
breast-work,  began  to  write  accordingly. 
A  shot  from  the  enemy's  battery  covered 
tho  letter  with  earth  the  instant  it  was  fin- 
ished. "  Thank  you — we  shall  have  no  oc- 
casion for  sand  this  bout,"  said  the  military 
secretary.  The  gaiety  and  courage  of  the 
remark  drew  Buonaparte's  attention  on  the 
ToiMig  man,  who  was  the  celebrated  Gener- 


al Junot,  afterwards  created  Duke  D'Abran- 
tes.  During  th's  siege,  also,  he  discovered 
the  talents  of  Duroc,  afterwards  one  of  his 
most  faithful  adherents.  In  these  and  ma- 
ny other  instances,  Buonaparte  showed  his 
extensive  knowledge  of  mankind,  by  the 
deep  sagacity  which  enabled  him  to  discov- 
er and  attach  to  him  those,  whose  talents 
were  most  distinguished,  and  most  capable 
of  rendering  him  service. 

Notwithstanding  the  influence  which  the 
Commandant  of  Artillery  had  acquired,  he 
found  himself  occasionally  thwarted  by  the 
members  of  the  Convention  upon  missiou 
to  the  siege  of  Toulon,  who  latterly  were 
Freron,  Ricors,  Salicetti,  and  the  younger 
Robespierre.  These  representatives  of  the 
people,  knowing  that  their  commission  gave 
them  supreme  power  over  generals  and  ar- 
mies, never  seem  to  have  paused  to  consid- 
er whether  nature  or  education  had  quali- 
fied them  to  exercise  it  with  advantage  to 
the  public  and  credit  to  themselves.  The} 
criticised  Buonaparte's  plan  of  attack,  find 
ing  it  impossible  to  conceive  how  his  op- 
erations, being  directed  against  detached 
fortifications  at  a  distance  from  Toulon, 
could  be  eventually  the  means  of  placing 
the  town  itself  with  facility  in  their  hands 
But  Napoleon  was  patient  and  temporising  j 
and  having  the  good  opinion  of  Salicetti 
and  some  intimacy  with  young  Robespierre 
he  contrived  to  have  the  works  conducted 
according  to  his  own  plan. 

The  presumption  of  these  dignitaries  be- 
came the  means  of  precipitating  his  opera- 
tions. It  wais  his  intention  to  complete  his 
proposed  works  against  Fort  Mulgrave  be- 
fore opening  a  large  and  powerful  battery, 
which  he  had  constructed  with  great  silence 
and  secrecy  against  Malbosquet,  so  that  the 
whole  of  his  meditated  assault  might  con- 
found the  enemy  by  commencing  at  the  same 
time.  The  operations  being  shrouded  by  an 
olive  plantation,  had  been  completed  with- 
out being  observed  by  the  English,  whom 
Buonaparte  proposed  to  attack  on  the  whole 
line  of  defence  simultaneously.  Messrs. 
Freron  and  Robespierre,  however,  in  visit- 
ing the  military  posts,  stumbled  upon  this 
masked  oattery  ;  and  having  no  notion  why 
four  mortars  and  eight  twenty -four  pounders 
should  remain  inactive,  they  commanded 
the  fire  to  be  opened  on  Malbosquet  with- 
out any  farther  delay. 

General  G'Hara,  confounded  at  finding 
this  important  post  exposed  to  a  fire  so  for- 
midable and  unexpected,  determined  by  a 
strong  effort  to  carry  the  French  battery  at 
once.  Three  thousand  men  were  employ- 
ed in  this  sally ;  and  the  General  himself, 
rather  contrary  to  what  is  considered  the 
duty  of  the  governor  of  a  place  of  impor- 
tance, resolved  to  put  himself  at  their  head. 
The  sally  was  at  first  completely  success- 
ful; but  while  the  English  pursued  the  tiip- 
my  too  far,  in  all  the  confidence  of  what 
they  considered  as  assured  victory,  Buona- 
parte availed  himself  of  some  broken  ground 
and  a  covered  way,  to  rally  a  strong  body  of 
troops,  bring  up  reserves,  and  attack  the 
scattered  English  both  in  flank  and  rear 
There  was  a  warm  skirmiih,  in  which  N|k 


204 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


poleon  himself  received  a  bayonet  wound 
in  the  thigh,  by  which,  though  a  serious  in- 
jury, he  was  not,  however,  disabled.  The 
English  were  thrown  into  irretrievable  con- 
fusion, and  retreated,  leaving  their  General 
wounded,  and  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  It  is  singular,  that  during  his  long 
warfare,  Buon&parte  was  never  personally 
engaged  with  the  British,  e.\cept  in  his  first, 
and  at  Waterloo,  his  last  and  fatal  battle. 
The  attack  upon  Acre  can  scarce  be  termed 
an  exception,  as  far  as  his  own  person  was 
concerned. 

The  loss  of  their  commandant,  added  to 
the  discouragement  which  began  to  prevail 
among  the  defenders  of  Toulon,  together 
with  the  vivacity  of  the  attack,  which  en- 
sued, seem  finally  to  have  disheartened  the 
garrison.  Five  batteries  were  opened  on 
Fort  Mulgrave,  the  possession  of  which 
Buonaparte  considered  as  ensuring  success. 
After  a  fire  of  twenty-four  hours,  Dugom- 
mier  and  Napoleon  resolved  to  try  the  fate 
of  a  general  attack,  for  which  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  people  showed  no  particular 
zeal.  The  attacking  columns  advanced  be- 
fore day,  during  a  heavy  shower  of  rain. 
They  were  at  first  driven  back  on  every 
point  by  the  most  determined  opposition  ; 
and  Dugommier,  as  he  saw  the  troops  fly 
in  confusion,  exclaimed,  well  knowing  the 
consequences  of  bad  success  to  a  General 
of  the  Republic,  "  I  am  a  lost  man  !"  Re- 
newed efforts,  however,  at  last  prevailed ; 
the  Spanish  artillerymen  giving  way  on  one 
point,  the  fort  fell  into  the  possession  of  the 
French,  who  showed  uo  mercy  to  its  de- 
fenders. 

Three  hours,  according  to  Buonaparte, 
after  the  fort  was  taken,  the  representatives 
of  the  people  appeared  in  tne  trenches, 
with  drawn  swords,  to  congratulate  the  sol- 
diers on  their  successful  valour,  and  hear 
from  their  Commandant  of  Artillery  the 
reiterated  assurance,  that,  this  distant  fort 
being  gained,  Toulon  was  now  their  own. 
In  their  letter  to  the  Convention,  the  depu- 
ties gave  a  more  favourable  account  of 
their  own  exploits,  and  failed  not  to  repre- 
sent Ricors,  Salicetti,  and  young  Robes- 
pierre, as  leading  the  attack  with  sabre  in 
hand,  and,  to  use  their  own  phrase,  show- 
ing the  troops  the  road  to  victory.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  ungraciously  forgot,  in 
their  despatches,  to  mention  so  much  as 
the  name  of  Buonaparte,  to  whom  the  vic- 
tory was  entirely  to  be  ascribed. 

In  the  meantime.  Napoleon's  sagacity 
was  not  deceived  in  the  event.  The  offi- 
cers of  the  allied  troops,  after  a  hurried 
council  of  war,  resolved  to  evacuate  Tou- 
lon, since  the  posts  gained  by  the  French 
must  drive  the  English  ships  from  their  an- 
chorage, and  deprive  them  of  a  future  op- 
portunity of  retreating,  if  they  neglected 
the  passing  moment.  Lord  Hood  alone 
urged  a  bolder  resolution,  and  recommend- 
ed the  making  a  desperate  effort  to  regain 
Fort  Mulgrave,  and  the  heights  which  it 
commanded.  But  his  spirited  council  was 
rejected,  and  the  evacuation  resolved  on ; 
which  the  panic  of  the  foreign  troops,  es- 
pecially the  Neapolitans,  would  have  ren- 


[Chap.  XX. 


dered  still  more  horrible  than  it  proved, 
but  for  the  steadiness  of  the  British  seamen. 

The  safety  of  the  unfortunate  citizens, 
who  had  invoked  their  protection,  was  not 
neglected  even  amid  the  confusion  of  the 
retreat.  The  numerous  merchant  vessels 
and  other  craft,  offered  means  of  transpor- 
tation to  all,  who,  having  to  fear  the  resent- 
ment of  the  republicans,  might  be  desirous 
of  quitting  Toulon.  Such  was  the  dread 
of  the  victors'  cruelty,  that  upwards  of  four- 
teen thousand  persons  accepted  this  mel- 
ancholy refuge.  Meantime  there  was  oth- 
er work  to  do. 

It  had  been  resolved,  that  the  arsenal  and 
naval  stores,  with  such  of  the  French  shipa 
as  were  not  ready  for  sea,  should  be  de- 
stroyed ;  and  tliey  were  set  on  fire  accord- 
ingly. This  task  was  in  a  great  measure 
intrusted  to  the  dauntless  intrepidity  of  Sir 
Sidney  Smith,  who  carried  it  through  with 
a  degree  of  order,  which,  everything  con- 
sidered, was  almost  marvellous.  The  as- 
sistance of  the  Spaniards  was  offered  and 
accepted  ;  and  they  undertook  the  duty  of 
scuttling  and  sinking  two  vessels  used  aa 
powder  magazines,  and  destroying  some 
part  of  the  disabled  shipping.  The  rising 
conflagration  growing  redder  and  redder, 
seemed  at  length  a  great  volcano,  amid 
which  were  long  distinctly  seen  the  masts 
and  yards  of  the  burning  vessels,  and  which 
rendered  obscurely  visible  the  advancing 
bodies  of  republican  troops,  who  attempted 
on  different  points  to  push  their  way  into 
the  place.  The  Jacobins  began  to  rise  in 
the  town  upon  the  flying  Royalists  ; — horrid 
screams  and  yells  of  vengeance,  and  revo- 
lutionary chorusses,  were  heard  to  mingle 
with  the  cries  and  plaintive  entreaties  of 
the  remaining  fugitives,  who  had  not  yet 
found  means  of  embarkation.  The  guns 
from  Malbosquet,  now  possessed  by  the 
French,  and  turned  on  the  bulwarks  of  the 
town,  increased  the  uproar.  At  once  a 
shock  like  that  of  an  earthquake,  occasion- 
ed by  the  explosion  of  many  hundred  bar 
rels  of  gunpowder,  silenced  all  noise  save 
its  own,  and  threw  high  into  the  midnight 
heaven  a  thousand  blazing  fragments,  which 
descended,  threatening  ruin  wherever  they 
fell.  A  second  explosion  took  place,  as 
the  other  magazine  blew  up,  with  the  same 
dreadful  effects. 

This  tremendous  addition  to  the  terrors 
of  the  scene,  so  dreadful  in  itself,  was  ow- 
ing to  the  Spaniards  setting  fire  to  those 
vessels  used  as  magazines,  instead  of  sink- 
ing them,  according  to  the  plan  which  had 
been  agreed  upon.  Either  from  ill-will, 
carelessness,  or  timidity,  they  were  equal- 
ly awkward  in  their  attempts  to  destroy  the 
dismantled  ships  intrusted  to  their  charge, 
which  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  French  but 
little  damaged.  The  British  fleet,  with  the 
flotilla  crowded  with  fugitives  which  it  es- 
corted, left  Toulon  without  loss,  notwith- 
standing an  ill-directed  fire  maintained  on 
them  from  the  batteries  which  the  French 
had  taken. 

It  was  upon  this  night  of  terror,  confla- 
gration, tears,  and  blood,  that  the  star  of 
Napoleon  first  ascended  the  horizon;. and 


Chap.  XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


305 


though  it  gleamed  over  many  a  scene  of 
horror  ere  it  set,  it  may  be  doubtful  wheth- 
er its  light  was  ever  blended  with  those  of 
one  more  dreadful. 

The  capture  of  Toulon  crushed  all  the 
hopes  of  resistance  to  the  Jacobins,  which 
had  been  cherished  in  the  south  of  France. 
There  was  a  strong  distrust  excited  against 
England,  who  was  judged  only  desirous  to 
avail  herself  of  the  insurrection  of  these 
unhappy  citizens  to  cripple  and  destroy  the 
naval  power  of  France,  without  the  wish 
of  effectually  assisting  the  Royalists.  This 
was  an  unjust  belief,  but  it  cannot  be  de- 
nied that  there  were  specious  grounds  for 
the  accusation.  The  undertaking  the  pro- 
tection of  a  city  in  such  a  situation  as  that 
of  Toulon,  if  the  measure  was  embraced 
at  all,  should  have  been  supported  by  efforts 
worthy  of  the  country  whose  assistance  was 
implored  and  granted.  Such  efforts  were 
not  made,  and  the  assistance  actually  af- 
forded was  not  directed  by  talent,  and  was 
squandered  by  disunion.  The  troops  show- 
ed gallantry  ;  but  the  leaders,  excepting  the 
naval  officers,  evinced  little  military  skill, 
or  united  purpose  of  defence.  One  gentle- 
man, then  in  private  life,  chancing  to  be  in 
Toulon  at  the  time,  distinguished  himself 
as  a  volunteer,*  and  has  since  achieved  a 
proud  career  in  the  British  army.  Had  he, 
or  such  as  he,  been  at  the  head  of  the  gar- 
rison, the  walls  of  Toulon  might  have  seen 
a  battle  like  that  of  Barossa,  and  a  very  dif- 
ferent result  of  the  siege  might  probably 
have  ensued. 

So  many  of  the  citizens  of  Toulon  con- 
cerned in  the  late  resistance  had  escaped, 
by  the  means  provided  by  the  English,  that 
republican  vengeance  could  not  collect  its 
victims  in  the  usual  numbers.  Many  were 
shot,  however,  and  it  his  been  said  that 
Buonaparte  commanded  the  artillery,  by 
which,  as  at  Lyons,  they  were  exterminat- 
ed 5  and  also,  that  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Fre- 
ron  and  the  younger  Robespif:rre,  congratu- 
lating them  and  himself  on  the  execution  of 
these  aristocrats,  and  signed  Brutus  Buona- 
parte, Sans-culotte.  If  he  actually  com- 
manded at  this  execution,  he  had  the  poor 
apology,  that  he  must  do  so  or  himself  per- 
ish ;  but,  had  the  fact  and  the  letter  been 
genuine,  there  has  been  enough  of  time 
since  his  downfall  to  prove  the  truth  of  the 
accusation,  and  certainly  enough  of  writers 
disposed  to  give  these  proofs  publicity.  He 
himself  positively  denied  the  charge  ;  and 
alleged  that  the  victims  were  shot  by  a  de- 
tachment of  what  was  called  the  Revolu- 
tionary Army,  and  not  by  troops  of  the  line. 
This  we  think  higlily  probable.  Buonaparte 
has  besides  affirmed,  that  far  from  desiring 
to  sharpen  the  vengeance  of  the  Jacobins,  or 
act  as  their  agent,  he  hazarded  the  displeas- 
ure of  those  whose  frown  was  death,  by  in- 
terposing his  protection  to  save  the  unfor- 
tunate family  of  Chabrillant.  emigrants  and 

*Mr.  Graham  ofBalgowan,  now  Lord  Lynedoch. 
He  marched  out  on  one  nf  the  sorties,  and  when 
the  affair  hccarae  hot,  seized  the  musket  and  car- 
touch-hox  of  a  fallen  soldier,  and  afforded  such  an 
example  to  the  troops,  as  contributed  greatly  to 
their  gaining  the  object  desired. 


aristocrats,  who,  being  thrown  by  a  storm 
on  the  coast  of  France,  shortiy  after  the 
siege  of  Toulon,  became  liable  to  punish- 
ment by  the  guillotine,  but  whom  he  saved 
by  procuring  them  the  means  of  escape  by 
sea. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  young  General  of 
Artillery  was  rapidly  rising  in  reputation. 
The  praises  which  were  suppressed  by  the 
representatives  of  the  people,  were  willing- 
ly conferred  and  promulgated  by  the  frank, 
old  veteran,  Dugommier.  Buonaparte's 
name  was  placed  on  the  list  of  those  whom 
he  recommended  for  promotion,  with  the 
pointed  addition,  that  if  neglected,  he  would 
be  sure  to  force  his  own  way.  He  was  ac- 
cordingly confirmed  in  his  provisional  situa^ 
tion  of  Chief  of  Battalion,  and  appointed  to 
hold  that  rank  in  the  Army  of  Italy.  Before 
joining  that  army,  the  genius  of  Napoleon 
was  employed  by  the  Convention  in  survey- 
ing and  fortifying  the  sea-coast  of  the  Med- 
iterranean ;  a  very  troublesome  task,  as  it 
involved  many  disputes  with  the  local  au- 
thorities of  small  towns  and  villages,  and 
even  hamlets,  all  of  whom  wished  to  have 
batteries  erected  for  their  own  special  pro- 
tection, without  regard  to  the  general  safe- 
ty. It  involved  him,  moreover,  as  we  shall 
presently  see,  in  some  risk  with  the  Con-  ~ 
vention  at  home. 

The  chief  of  battalion  discharged  his 
task  scientifically.  He  divided  the  neces- 
sary fortifications  into  three  classes,  distin- 
guisiiiag  those  designed  to  protect  harbours 
and  roadsteads,  from  such  as  were  intend- 
ed to  defend  anchorages  of  less  conse- 
quence, and  both  from  the  third  class, 
which  were  to  be  placed  on  proper  situa- 
tions, to  prevent  insults  and  partial  de- 
scents on  the  coast  by  an  enemy  superior 
at  sea.  Napoleon  dictated  to  General 
Gourgaud  hints  on  this  subject,  which  must 
be  of  consequence  to  the  sea  coasts  which 
need  such  military  defences.* 

Having  made  his  report  to  the  Conven- 
tion, Buonaparte  proceeded  to  join  the  head 
quarters  of  the  French  army,  then  lying 
at  Nice,  straitened  considerably  and  hem- 
med in  by  the  Sardinians  and  Austrians, 
who,  after  some  vain  attempts  of  General 
Brunet  to  dislodge  them,  had  remained 
masters  of  the  ColdiTende,and  lower  pasa- 
es  of  the  .\lps,  together  with  the  road 
leading  from  Turin  to  Nice  by  Saorgio. 

Buonaparte  had  influence  enough  to  re- 
commend with  success  to  the  general,  Du- 
morbion.  and  the  representatives  of  the 
people,  Ricors  and  Robespierre,  a  plan  for 
driving  the  enemy  out  of  this  position,  forc- 
ing them  to  retreat  beyond  the  higher  Alps, 
and  taking  Saorgio ;  all  which  measurea 
succeeded  as  he  had  predicted.  Saorgio 
surrendered,  with  much  stores  and  baggage, 
and  the  French  army  obtained  possession 
of  the  ch.ain  of  the  higher  Alps,t  which,  bc- 

*  .\n  Englishman  will  probably  remember  the 
sublime  passage  in  "  The  mariners  of  England  j" — 
Britannia  needs  no  bulwark, 
Xo  towers  along  the  steep : 
Her  march  is  on  the  Mountain-wave, 
Her  home  is  on  the  deep. 
t  The  .'Sardinians  were  dislodged  from  tke  Col 
di  Tcnde,  7th  of  May  1794. 


206 


LIFE  OF  N.^POLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XX. 


ing  tenable  by  defending  few  and  difficult 
passes,  placed  a  great  part  of  the  Army  of 
Italy,  (as  it  was  already  termed,  though  on- 
ly upon  the  frontier,)  at  disposal  for  actual 
service.  While  directing  the  means  of  at- 
taining these  successes,  Buonaparte,  at  the 
same  time,  acquired  a  complete  acquaint- 
ance with  that  Alpine  country,  in  which  he 
was  shortly  to  obtain  victories  in  his  own 
name,  not  in  that  of  others,  who  obtained 
reputation  by  acting  on  his  suggestions. 
But  while  he  was  thus  employed,  he  was 
involved  in  an  accusation  before  the  Con- 
vention, which,  had  his  reputation  been  less 
for  approved  patriotism,  might  have  cost 
him  dear. 

In  his  plans  for  the  defence  of  the  Med- 
iterranean, Napoleon  had  proposed  repair- 
ing an  old  state  prison  at  Marseilles,  called 
the  fort  of  Saint  Nicholas,  that  it  might  serve 
aa  a  powder  magazine.  This  plan  his  suc- 
cessor on  the  station  proceeded  to  exe- 
cute, and  by  doing  so  gave  umbrage  to  the 
patriots,  who  charged  the  commandant  of 
artillery  then  at  Marseilles,  and  superin- 
tending the  work,  with  an  intention  to  re- 
build this  fort  to  serve  as  a  Bastille  for  con- 
trolling the  good  citizens.  The  officer  be- 
ing summoned  to  the  bar  of  the  Conven- 
tion, proved  that  the  plan  was  not  his  own, 
but  drawn  out  by  Buonaparte.  The  repre- 
sentatives of  the  army  in  Italy,  however, 
not  being  able  to  dispense  with  his  servi- 
ces, wrote  to  the  Convention  in  his  behalf, 
and  gave  such  an  account  of  the  origin  and 
purpose  of  the  undertaking,  as  divested  it 
of  sdl  shade  of  suspicion,  even  in  the  sus- 
picious eye  of  the  Committee  of  Public 
bafety. 

In  the  remainder  of  the  year  1794,  there 
was  little  service  of  consequence  in  the  Ar- 
my of  Italy,  and  the  9th  and  10th  Thermi- 
dor  (27th  and  28th  July)  of  that  year, 
brought  the  downfall  of  Robespierre,  and 
threatened  unfavourable  consequences  to 
Buonaparte,  who  had  been  the  friend  of 
the  tyrant's  brother,  and  was  understood  to 
have  participated  in  the  tone  of  exaggerat- 
ed patriotism  affected  by  his  party.  He 
endeavoured  to  shelter  himself  under  his 
ignorance  of  the  real  tendency  of  the  pro- 
ceedings of  those  who  had  fallen  ;  an  apol- 
ogy which  resolves  itself  into  the  ordinary 
excuse,  that  he  found  his  late  friends  had 
not  been  the  persons  he  took  them  for. 
According  to  this  line  of  defence,  he  made 
all  haste  to  disclaim  accession  to  the  polit- 
ical schemes  of  which  they  were  accused. 
"  I  am  somewhat  affected,"  he  \vrote  to  a 
correspondent,  "  at  the  fate  of  the  younger 
Robespierre  ;  but  had  he  been  my  brother. 
I  would  have  poniarded  him  with  my  own 
hand,  had  I  been  aware  that  he  was  forming 
schemes  of  tyranny." 

Buonaparte's  disclamations  do  not  seem 
at  first  to  have  been  favourably  received. 
His  situation  was  now  precarious,  and  when 
those  members  were  restored  to  the  Con- 
vention, who  had  been  expelled  and  pro- 
scribed by  the  Jacobins,  it  became  still  more 
eo.  The  reaction  of  the  moderate  party, 
accompanied  by  horrible  recollections  of 
ii^B  past,  and  fears  for  the  future,  began 


now  to  be  more  strongly  felt,  as  their  nam- 
bers  in  the  Convention  acquired  strength. 
Those  officers  who  had  attached  them- 
selves to  the  Jacobin  party,  were  the  objects 
of  their  animosity  ;  and  besides,  they  were 
desirous  to  purify  the  armies  as  far  as  pos- 
sible of  those  whom  they  considered  aa 
their  own  enemies,  and  those  of  good  or- 
der; the  rather,  tliat  the  Jacobinical  prin- 
ciples still  continued  to  be  more  favoured 
in  the  armies  than  in  the  interior. 

To  the  causes  of  this  we  have  before  al- 
luded ;  but  it  may  not  be  unnecessary  to  re- 
peat, that  the  soldiers  had  experienced  all 
the  advantages  of  the  fierce  energies  of  a 
government  which  sent  them  out  to  con- 
quest, and  offered  them  the  means  of 
achieving  it;  and  they  had  not  been  wit- 
nesses to  the  atrocities  of  their  tyranny  in 
the  interior.  It  was  highly  desirable  to  the 
moderate  party  to  diminish  the  influence  of 
the  Jacobins  with  the  army,  by  dismissing 
the  officers  supposed  most  friendly  to  such 
principles.  Buonaparte,  among  others,  was 
superseded  in  his  command,  and  for  a  time 
detained  under  arrest.  This  was  removed 
by  means  of  the  influence  which  his  coun- 
tryman Salicetti  still  retained  among  the 
Thermidoriens,  and  Buonaparte  appears  to 
have  visited  Marseilles,  though  in  a  condi- 
tion to  give  or  receive  little  consolatioo 
from  his  family. 

In  May  1795,  he  came  to  Paris  to  solicit 
employment  in  his  profession.  He  found 
himself  unfriended  and  indigent  in  the  city 
of  which  he  was  at  no  distant  period  to  b« 
the  ruler.  Some  individuals,  however,  as- 
sisted him,  and  among  others  the  celebrat- 
ed performer  Talma,  who  had  known  him 
while  at  the  Military  School,  and  even  then 
entertained  high  expectations  of  the  part  in 
life  which  was  to  be  played  by  "  U  petit 
Bonaparte."* 

On  the  other  hand,  as  a  favourer  of  th« 
Jacobins,  his  solicitations  for  employment 
were  resolutely  opposed  by  a  person  of  con- 
siderable influence.  Aubry,  an  old  officer 
of  artillery,  president  of  the  military  com- 
mittee, placed  himself  in  strong  opposition 
to  his  pretensions.  He  had  been  nominat- 
ed as  removed  from  the  artillery  service  to 
be  placed  in  that  of  the  infantry.  He  re- 
monstrated with  great  spirit  against  this 
proposed  change ;  and  when,  in  the  heat  of 
discussion,  Aubry  objected  his  youth,  Buon- 
aparte replied,  that  presence  in  the  field  of 
battle  ought  to  anticipate  the  claim  of  years. 
The  president,  who  had  not  been  much  in 
action,  considered  his  reply  as  a  personal  in- 
sult ;  and  Napoleon,  disdaining  farther  ao- 
swer,  tendered  his  resignation.  It  was  not, 
however,  accepted  ;  and  he  still  remained 
in  the  rank  of  expectants,  but  among  thosa 
whose  hopes  were  entirely  dependent  upon 
their  merits. 

Buonaparte  had  something  of  his  native 
country  in  his  disposition — he  forgot  nei- 
ther benefits  nor  injuries.  He  was  always, 
during  the  height  of  his  grandeur,  particu- 
larly kind  to  Talma,  and  honoured  him  even 
with  a  degree  of  intimacy.    As  for  Aubry, 

*  Oa  the  authority  of  the  late  John  Philip  KenbW 


Chap.  XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


207 


being  amongst  those  belonging  to  Pichegru's 
party  who  were  banished  to  Cayenne,  he 
caused  him  to  be  excepted  from  the  decree 
vhich  permitted  the  return  of  those  unfor- 
tunate exiles,  and  Aubry  died  at  Demarara. 

Meantime,  his  situation  becoming  daily 
more  unpleasant,  Buonaparte  solicited  Bar- 
ras  and  Freron,  who,  as  Thermidoriens, 
had  preserved  their  credit,  for  occupation 
in  almost  any  line  of  his  profession,  and 
even  negotiated  for  permission  to  go  into 
the  Turkish  service,  to  train  the  Mussul- 
mans to  the  use  of  artillery.  A  fanciful 
imagination  may  pursue  him  to  the  rank  of 
Pacha,  or  higher  ;  for,  go  where  he  would, 
he  could  not  have  remained  in  mediocrity. 
His  own  ideas  had  a  similar  tendency. 
"  How  strange,"  he  said,  "  it  would  be,  if  a 
little  Corsican  officer  of  artillery  were  to 
become  King  of  Jerusalem  !"  He  was  of- 
fered a  command  in  La  Vendee,  which  he 
declined  to  accept,  and  was  finally  named  to 
command  a  brigade  of  artillery  in  Holland. 
But  it  was  in  a  land  where  there  still  exist- 
ed so  many  separate  and  conflicting  factions 
as  in  France,  that  he  was  doomed  to  be 
raised,  amid  the  struggles  of  his  contending 
countrymen,  and  upon  their  shoulders  and 
over  their  heads,  to  the  very  highest  emi- 
nence to  which  Fortune  can  exalt  an  indi- 
vidual. The  times  required  such  talents  as 
his,  and  the  opportunity  for  exercising  them 
Boon  arose. 

The  French  nation  were  in  general  tired 
of  the  National  Convention,  which  succes- 
sive proscriptions  had  drained  of  all  the 
talent,  eloquence,  and  energy,  it  had  once 
possessed  ;  and  that  Assembly  had  become 
hateful  and  contemptible  to  all  men,  by 
Buffering  itself  to  be  the  passive  tool  of  the 
Terrorists  for  two  years,  when,  if  they  had 
shown  proper  firmness,  the  revolution  of 
the  9th  Thermidor  might  as  well  have  been 
achieved  at  the  beginning  of  that  frightful 
anarchy,  as  after  that  long  period  of  unheard- 
of  Buffering.  The  Convention  was  not 
greatly  improved  in  point  of  talent,  even 
by  the  return  of  their  banished  brethren ; 
and,  in  a  word,  they  had  lost  the  confidence 
of  the  public  entirely.  They  therefore 
prepared  to  gratify  the  general  wish  by  dis- 
solving themselves. 

But  before  they  resigned  their  ostensible 
authority,  it  was  necessary  to  prepare  some 
mode  of  carrying  on  the  government  in  fu- 
ture. 

The  Jacobin  constitution  of  1793  still  ex- 
isted on  paper  ;  but  although  there  was  an 
unrepealed  law,  menacing  with  death  any 
one  who  should  propose  to  alter  that  form 
of  government,  no  one  appeared  disposed 
to  consider  it  as  actually  in  exercise  ;  and 
notwithstanding  the  solemnity  with  which 
it  had  been  received  and  ratified  by  the 
tanction  of  the  national  voice,  it  was  actu- 
ally passed  over  and  abrogated  as  a  matter 
of  course,  by  a  tacit  but  unanimous  con- 
tent. Neither  was  there  any  disposition  to 
adopt  the  Girondist  constitution  of  1791, 
or  to  revert  to  the  democratic  monarchy  of 
1792,  the  only  one  of  these  models  which 
eould  be  said  to  have  had  even  the  dubious 
•oduniocv  of  a  few  months.      .\s  at  the 


general  change  of  the  world,  all  fonner 
things  were  to  be  done  away — all  was  to  b* 
made  anew. 

Each  of  these  forms  of  government  had 
been  solemnized  by  the  national  oaths  and 
processions  customary  on  such  occasions; 
but  the  opinion  was  now  universally  enter- 
tained, that  not  one  of  them  was  founded 
on  just  principles,  or  contained  the  power 
of  defending  itself  against  aggression,  and 
protecting  the  lives  and  rights  of  the  sub- 
ject. On  the  other  hand,  every  one  not 
deeply  interested  in  the  late  anarchy,  and 
implicated  in  the  horrid  course  of  blood- 
shed and  tyranny  which  was  its  very  es- 
sence, was  frightened  at  the  idea  of  reviv- 
ing a  government,  which  was  a  professed 
continuation  of  the  despotism  ever  attend- 
ant upon  a  revolution,  and  which,  in  all  civ- 
ilized countries,  ought  to  terminate  with 
the  extraordinary  circumstances  by  which 
revolution  has  been  rendered  necessary. 
To  have  continued  the  revolutionary  gov 
ernment,  indeed,  longer  than  this,  would 
have  been  to  have  imitated  the  conduct  of 
an  ignorant  empiric,  who  should  persist  in 
subjecting  a  convajescent  patient  to  the 
same  course  of  exhausting  and  dangerous 
medicines,  which  a  regular  physician  would 
discontinue  as  soon  as  the  disease  had  been 
brought  to  a  favourable  crisis. 

It  seems  to  have  been  in  general  felt  and 
admitted,  that  the  blending  of  the  execu- 
tive and  legislative  power  together,  as  both 
had  been  exercised  by  the  existing  Conven- 
tion, opened  the  road  to  the  most  aiBicting 
tyranny  ;  and  that  to  constitute  a  stable 
government,  the  power  of  executing  the 
laws,  and  administering  the  ministerial 
functions,  must  be  vested  in  some  separate 
individuals,  or  number  of  individuals,  who 
should,  indeed,  be  responsible  to  the  na- 
tional legislature  for  the  exercise  of  this 
power,  but  neither  subject  to  their  direct 
control,  nor  enjoying  it  as  emanating  inune- 
diately  from  their  body.  With  these  reflee- 
tions  arose  others,  on  the  utility  of  dividing 
the  Legislative  Body  itself  into  two  assem- 
blies, one  of  which  might  form  a  check  on 
the  other,  tending,  by  some  exercise  of  an 
intermediate  authority,  to  qualify  the  rash 
rapidity  of  a  single  Chamber,  and  obstruct 
the  progress  of  any  individual,  who  might, 
like  Robespierre,  obtain  a  dictatorship  in 
such  a  body,  and  become,  in  doing  so,  an 
arbitrary  tyrant  over  the  whole  authorities 
of  the  state.  Thus,  loath  and  late,  the 
French  began  to  cast  an  eye  on  the  British 
constitution,  and  the  system  of  checks  and 
balances  upon  which  it  is  founded,  as  the 
best  uieans  of  uniting  the  protection  of  lib- 
erty with  the  preservation  of  order.  Think- 
ing men  had  come  gradually  to  be  aware, 
that  in  hopes  of  getting  something  better 
than  a  system  which  had  been  sanctioned 
by  the  experience  of  ages,  they  had  only 
produced  a  set  of  models,  which  were  suc- 
cessively wondered  at,  applauded,  neglect- 
ed, and  broken  to  pieces,  instead  of  a  sim- 
ple machine,  capable,  in  mechanical  phrase, 
of  working  well. 

Had  such  a  feeling  prevailed  during  the 
commencement  of  the  Revolution,  as  w^s 


208 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XX. 


advocated  by  Mounier  and  others,  France 
and  Europe  might  have  been  spared  the 
bloodshed  and  distress  which  afflicted  them 
during  a  period  of  more  than  twenty  years 
of  war,  with  all  the  various  evils  which  ac- 
companied that  great  convulsion.  France 
had  then  a  king ;  nobles,  out  of  whom  a 
senate  might  have  been  selected ;  and  abun- 
dance of  able  men  to  have  formed  a  Lower 
House,  or  House  of  Commons.  But  the 
golden  opportunity  was  passed  over  ;  and 
when  the  architects  might,  perhaps,  have 
been  disposed  to  execute  the  new  fabric 
which  they  meditated,  on  the  plan  of  a  lim- 
ited monarchy,  the  materials  for  the  struc- 
ture were  no  longer  to  be  found. 

The  legitimate  King  of  France  no  doubt 
existed,  but  he  was  an  exile  in  a  foreign 
country  ;  and  the  race  of  gentry,  from  whom 
a  house  of  peers,  or  hereditary  senate,  might 
have  been  chiefly  selected,  were  to  be 
found  only  in  foreign  service,  too  much  ex- 
asperated by  their  sufferings  to  admit  a  ra- 
tional hope  that  they  would  ever  make  any 
compromise  with  those  who  had  forced 
them  from  their  native  land,  and  confiscated 
their  family  property.  Saving  for  these 
circumstances,  and  the  combinations  which 
arose  out  of  them,  it  seems  very  likely,  that 
at  the  period  at  which  we  have  now  arriv- 
ed, the  tide,  which  began  to  set  strongly 
against  the  Jacobins,  might  have  been 
adroitly  turned  in  favour  of  the  Bourbons. 
But  though  there  was  a  general  feeling  of 
melancholy  regret,  which  naturally  arose 
from, comparing  the  peaceful  days  of  the 
Monarchy  with  those  of  the  Reign  of  Terror, 
— ^the  rule  of  Louis  the  XVL  with  that  of 
Robespierre, — the  memory  of  former  quiet 
and  security  with  the  more  recent  recol- 
lections of  blood  and  plunder, — still  it 
seems  to  have  existed  rather  in  the  state 
of  a  predisposition  to  form  a  royal  party, 
than  as  the  principle  of  one  already  exist- 
ing. Fuel  was  lying  ready  to  catch  the 
flame  of  loyalty,  but  the  match  had  not  yet 
been  applied  5  and  to  counteract  this  gen- 
eral tendency,  there  existed  the  most  for- 
midable obstacles. 

In  the  first  place,  we  have  shown  already 
the  circumstances  by  which  the  French  ar- 
mies were  strongly  attached  to  the  name 
of  the  Republic,  in  whose  cause  all  their 
wars  had  been  waged,  and  all  their  glory 
won  ;  by  whose  expeditious  and  energetic 
administration  the  military  profession  was 
benefited,  while  they  neither  saw  nor  felt 
the  misery  entailed  on  the  nation  at  large 
But  the  French  soldier  had  not  only  fought 
in  favour  of  Democracy,  but  actively  and 
directly  against  Royalty.  As  Vive  la  Re- 
publique  was  his  war-cry,  he  was  in  La 
Vendee,  on  the  Rhine,  and  elsewhere,  met, 
encountered,  and  sometimes  defeated  and 
driven  back,  by  those  who  used  the  oppo- 
site signal-word,  Vive  le  Roi.  The  Royal- 
ists were,  indeed,  the  most  formidable  bp- 
ponents  of  the  military  part  of  the  French 
nation ;  and  such  was  the  animosity  of  the 
latter  at  this  period  to  the  idea  of  returning 
to  the  ancient  system,  that  if  a  general 
could  have  been  found  capable  of  playing 
de  part  of  Monk,  he  would  probably  have 


experienced  the   fate  of  La  Fayette   and 
Dumouriez. 

A  second  and  almost  insuperable  objec 
tion  to  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  oc- 
curred in  the  extensile  change  of  property 
that  had  taken  place.  If  the  exiled  family 
had  been  recalled,  they  could  not,  at  this 
very  recent  period,  but  have  made  stipula- 
tions for  their  devoted  followers,  and  insist- 
ed that  the  estates  forfeited  in  their  cause, 
should  have  been  compensated  or  restored  : 
and  such  a  resumption  would  have  inferred 
ruin  to  all  the  purchasers  of  national  de- 
mesnes, and,  in  consequence,  a  general 
shock  to  the  security  of  property  through 
the  kingdom. 

The  same  argument  applied  to  the  church 
lands.  The  Most  Christian  King  could  not 
resume  his  throne,  without  restoring  the 
ecclesiastical  establishment  in  part,  if  not 
in  whole.  It  was  impossible  to  calculate 
the  mass  of  persons  of  property  and  wealth 
with  their  various  connexions,  who,  as  pos- 
sessors of  national  demesnes,  that  is,  of  the 
property  of  the  church,  or  of  the  emigrants 
were  bound  by  their  own  interest  to  opposa 
the  restoration  of  the  Bourbon  family. 
The  revolutionary  government  had  follow- 
ed the  coarse,  but  striking  and  deeply  poli- 
tic, admonition  of  the  Scottish  Reformer — 
"  Pull  down  the  nests,"  said  Knox,  when 
he  urged  the  multitude  to  destroy  churches 
and  abbeys,  "  and  the  rooks  will  fly  off'." 
The  French  government,  by  dilapidating 
and  disposing  of  the  property  of  the  emi- 
grants and  clergy,  had  established  an  almost 
insurmountable  barrier  against  the  return 
of  the  original  owners.  The  cavaliers  in 
the  great  Civil  War  of  England  had  been 
indeed  fined,  sequestrated,  impoverished  j 
but  their  estates  -were  still,  generally  speak- 
ing, in  their  possession  ;  and  they  retained, 
though  under  oppression  and  poverty,  the 
influence  of  a  national  aristocracy,  dimin- 
ished, but  not  annihilated.  In  France,  that 
influence  of  resident  proprietors  had  all 
been  transferred  to  other  hands,  tenacious 
in  holding  what  property  they  had  acquir- 
ed, and  determined  to  make  good  the  de- 
fence of  it  against  those  who  claimed  a 
prior  right. 

Lastly,  the  fears  and  conscious  recollec- 
tions of  those  who  held  the  chief  power  in 
France  for  the  time,  induced  them  to  view 
their  own  safety  as  deeply  compromised  by 
any  proposition  of  restoring  the  exiled  royal 
family.  This  present  sitting  and  ruling 
Convention  had  put  to  death  Louis  XVL, — 
with  what  hope  of  safety  could  they  install 
his  brother  on  the  throne  ?  They  had  for- 
mally ;  and  in  full  conclave,  renounced  be- 
lief in  the  existence  of  a  Deity — with  what 
consistence  could  they  be  accessory  to  re- 
store a  national  church  ?  Some  remained 
republicans  from  their  heart  and  upon  con- 
viction ;  and  a  great  many  more  of  the  dep- 
uties could  not  abjure  democracy,  without 
confessing  at  the  same  time,  that  all  the 
violent  measures  which  they  had  carried 
through  for  the  support  of  that  system,  were 
so  many  great  and  treasonable  crimes. 

These  fears  of  a  retributive  reaction  were 
very  generally  felt  in  the  Convention    Tlie 


Chap.  XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


209 


Thermidoriens,  in  particular,  who  had  kill- 
ed Robespierre,  and  now  reigned  in  his 
etead,  had  more  substantial  grounds  of  ap- 
prehension from  any  counter-revolutionary 
movement,  than  even  the  body  of  the  Rep- 
resentatives at  large,  many  of  whom  had 
been  merely  passive  in  scenes  where  Bar- 
ras  and  Tallien  had  been  active  agents. 
The  timid  party  of  The  Plain  might  be 
overawed  by  the  returning  Prince  5  and  the 
members  of  the  Girondists,  who  could  in- 
deed scarce  be  said  to  exist  as  a  party, 
might  be  safely  despised.  But  the  Ther- 
midoriens themselves  stood  in  a  different 
predicament.  They  were  of  importance 
enough  to  attract  both  detestation  and  jeal- 
ousy ;  they  held  power,  which  must  be  an 
object  of  distrust  to  the  restored  Monarch  ; 
and  they  stood  on  precarious  ground,  be- 
twixt the  hatred  of  the  moderate  party,  who 
remembered  them  as  colleagues  of  Robes- 
pierre and  Danton,  and  that  of  the  Jacobins, 
who  saw  in  Tallien  and  Barras  deserters  of 
that  party,  and  the  destroyers  of  the  power 
of  the  Sans  Culottes.  They  had,  there- 
fore, just  reason  to  fear,  that,  stripped  of 
the  power  which  they  at  present  possessed, 
they  might  become  the  unpitied  and  unaid- 
ed scape-goats,  to  expiate  all  the  offences 
of  the  Revolution. 

Thus  each  favourable  sentiment  towards 
the  cause  of  the  Bourbons  was  opposed, 

I.  By  their  unpopularity  with  the  armies  ; 

II.  By  the  apprehensions  of  the  confusion 
and  distress  which  must  arise  from  a  gen- 
eral change  of  proj)€rty ;  and  III.  By  the 
conscious  fears  of  those  influential  persons, 
who  conceived  their  own  safety  concerned 
in  sustaining  the  republican  model. 

Still  the  idea  of  monarchy  was  so  gener- 
ally received  as  the  simplest  and  best  mode 
of  once  more  re-establishing  good  order 
and  a  fixed  government,  that  some  states- 
men proposed  to  resume  the  form,  but 
change  the  dynasty.  With  this  view,  di- 
vers persons  were  suggested  by  those,  who 
supposed  that  by  passing  over  the  legitimate 
heir  to  the  crown,  the  dangers  annexed  to 
hie  rights  and  claims  might  be  avoided,  and 
the  apprehended  measures  of  resumption 
and  reaction  might  be  guarded  against.  The 
eon  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  named,  but 
the  infamy  of  his  father  clung  to  him.  In 
another  wild  hypothesis,  the  Duke  of  York, 
or  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  were  suggested 
as  fit  to  be  named  constitutional  Kings  of 
France.  The  Abbe  Sieves  himself  is  said 
to  have  expressed  himself  in  favour  of  the 
prince  last  named,* 

But  without  regarding  the  wishes  or  opin- 
ions of  the  people  without  doors,  the  Con- 
vention resolved  to  establish  such  a  model 
of  government  as  should  be  most  likely  to 
infuse  into  a  republic  something  of  the  sta- 
bility of  a  monarchical  establishment ;  and 
thus  at  once  repair  former  errors,  and  pre- 1 
eerve  an  appearance  of  consistency  in  the  j 
eyes  of  Europe. 

For  this  purpose  eleven  commissioners,  1 

*  The  Memoirs  publisheu  under  the  nHiii'.-  of 
Fonche  make  this  assertion.    But  although  that 
work  shows  gr?at  intimacy  with  the  secret  hi-tury  1 
of  the  limes,  it  is  not  to  bo  implicitly  relied  upon. , 


chiefly  selected  amongst  the  former  Giron- 
dists, were  appointed  to  draw  up  a  new 
constitution  upon  a  new  principle,  wliich 
was  to  receive  anew  the  universal  adhesion 
of  the  French  by  acclamation  and  oath,  and 
to  fall,  in  a  short  time,  under  the  same  neg- 
lect which  had  attended  every  preceding 
model.  This,  it  was  understood,  was  to  be 
so  constructed,  as  to  unite  the  consistency 
of  a  monarchical  government  with  the  name 
and  forms  of  a  democracy. 

That  the  system  now  adopted  by  the 
French  commissioners  might  bear  a  form 
corresponding  to  the  destinies  of  the  na- 
tion, and  flattering  to  its  vanity,  it  was  bor- 
rowed from  that  of  the  Roman  republic,  aa 
attempt  to  imitate  which  had  already  intro- 
duced many  of  the  blunders  and  manv  of 
the  crimes  of  the  Revolution.  The  execu- 
tive power  was  lodged  in  a  council  of  five 
persons,  termed  Directors,  to  whom  were 
to  be  consigned  the  conduct  of  peace  and 
war,  the  execution  of  the  laws,  and  the 
general  administration  of  the  government. 
They  were  permitted  no  share  of  the  legis- 
lative authority. 

This  arrangement  was  adopted  to  comply 
with  the  jealousy  of  those,  who,  in  the  in- 
dividual person  of  a  single  Director,  hold- 
ing a  situation  similar  to  that  of  the  Stadt- 
holder  in  Holland,  or  the  Pres'dent  of  the 
United  States,  saw  something  too  closely 
approaching  to  a  monarchical  government. 
Indeed,  it  is  said,  Louvet  warned  them 
against  establishing  such  an  office,  by  as- 
suring them,  that  when  they  referred  the 
choice  of  the  individual  who  was  to  hold  it, 
to  the  nation  at  large,  they  would  see  the 
Bourbon  heir  elected.  But  the  inconven- 
ience of  this  pentarchy  could  not  be  dis- 
guised ;  and  it  seemed  to  follow  as  a  neces- 
sary consequence  of  such  a  numerous  ex- 
ecutive council,  either  that  there  would  be 
a  schism,  and  a  minority  and  majority  es- 
tablished in  that  pre-eminent  body  of  the 
state,  where  unity  and  vigour  were  chiefly 
requisite,  or  else  that  some  one  or  two  of 
the  ablest  and  most  crafty  among  the  Di- 
rectors would  establish  a  supremacy  over 
the  others,  and  use  them  less  as  their  col- 
leagues than  their  dependants.  The  le- 
gislators, however,  though  they  knew  that 
the  whole  Roman  empire  was  found  insufli- 
cient  to  satiate  the  ambition  of  three  men, 
yet  appeared  to  hope  that  the  concord  and 
unanimity  of  their  five  Directors  mieht  con- 
tinue unbroken,  though  they  had  but  one 
nation  to  govern ;  and  they  decided  accord- 
ingly. 

The  executive  power  being  thus  provided 
for,  the  Legislative  Body  was  to  consist 
of  two  councils  ;  one  of  Elders,  as  it  was 
called,  serving  as  a  House  of  Lords ;  an- 
other of  Youngers,  which  they  termed, 
from  its  number,  the  Council  of  Five  Hun- 
dred. Both  were  elective,  and  the  differ- 
ence of  age  was  the  only  circumstance 
which  placed  a  distinction  betwixt  the  two 
bodies.  The  members  of  the  Council  of 
Five  Hundred  were  to  be  at  least  twenty- 
five  years  old,  a  qualification  which,  after 
the  seventh  year  of  the  Republic,  was  to 
rise  to  thirty  years  complete.     In  this  as- 


210 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XX. 


eembly  laws  were  to  be  first  proposed ;  and, 
having  received  its  approbation,  they  were 
to  be  referred  to  the  Council  of  Ancients. 
The  requisites  to  sit  in  the  latter  senate, 
were  the  age  of  forty  years  complete,  and 
the  being  a  married  man  or  a  widower. 
Bachelors,  though  above  that  age,  were 
deemed  unfit  for  legislation,  perhaps  from 
want  of  domestic  experience. 

The  Council  of  Ancients  had  the  power 
of  rejecting  the  propositions  laid  before 
them  by  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred,  or, 
by  adopting  and  approving  them,  that  of 
■passmg  them  into  laws.  These  regulations 
certainly  gained  one  great  point,  in  submit- 
ting each  proposed  legislative  enactment  to 
two  separate  bodies,  and,  of  course,  to  ma- 
ture and  deliberate  consideration.  It  is 
true,  that  neither  of  the  Councils  had  any 
especial  character,  or  separate  interest, 
which  could  enable  or  induce  the  An- 
cients, as  a  body,  to  suggest  to  the  Five 
Hundred  a  different  principle  of  considering 
any  proposed  measure,  from  that  which  was 
likely  to  occur  to  them  in  their  own  previ- 
ous deliberation.  No  such  varied  views, 
therefore,  were  to  be  expected,  as  must 
Arise  between  assemblies  composed  of  per- 
sons who  differ  in  rank  or  fortune,  amd  con- 
sequently view  the  same  question  in  vari- 
ous and  opposite  lights.  Still,  delay  and 
reconsideration  were  attained,  before  the 
irrevocable  fiat  was  imposed  upon  any  meas- 
ure of  consequence  ;  and  so  far  much  was 
gained.  An  orator  was  supposed  to  answer 
all  objections  to  the  system  of  the  two 
Councils  thus  constituted,  when  he  de- 
•cribed  that  of  the  Juniors  as  being  the  Im- 
agination, that  of  the  Ancients  as  being  the 
Judgment  of  the  nation ;  the  one  designed 
to  invent  and  suggest  national  measures, 
the  other  to  deliberate  and  decide  upon 
them.  This  was,  though  liable  to  many  ob- 
jections, an  ingenious  illustration  indeed; 
out  an  illustration  is  not  an  argument, 
though  often  passing  current  as  such. 

On  the  whole,  the  form  of  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  year  3,  i.  e.  1795,  showed  a 
greater  degree  of  practical  efficacy,  sense, 
and  consistency,  than  any  of  those  previ- 
ously suggested  ;  and  in  the  introduction, 
though  there  was  the  usual  proclamation  of 
the  nights  of  Man,  his  Duties  to  the  laws 
and  to  the  social  system  were  for  the  first 
time  enumerated  in  manly  and  forcible  lan- 
guage, intimating  the  desire  of  the  framers 
of  these  institutions  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
continuation  of  revolutionary  violence  in 
future. 

But  the  Constitution,  now  promulgated, 
had  a  blemish  common  to  all  its  predeces- 
sors ; — it  was  totally  new,  and  unsanctioned 
by  the  experience  either  of  France  or  any 
other  country ;  a  mere  e.xperiment  in  poli- 
tics, the  result  of  which  could  not  be  known 
until  it  had  been  put  in  exercise,  and  which, 
for  many  years  at  least,  must  be  necessarily 
less  the  object  of  respect  than  of  criticism. 
Wise  legislators,  even  when  lapse  of  time, 
alteration  of  manners,  or  increased  liberal- 
ity of  sentiment,  require  corresponding  al- 
terations in  the  institutions  of  their  fathers,  i 
are  careful,  as  far  as  possible,  to  preserv  * 


the  ancient  form  and  character  of  those 
laws,  into  which  they  are  endeavouring  to 
infuse  principles  and  a  spirit  accommodated 
to  the  altered  exigencies  and  temper  of  the 
age.  There  is  an  enthusiasm  in  patriotism 
as  well  as  in  religion.  We  value  institutions, 
not  only  because  they  are  ours,  but  because 
they  have  been  those  of  our  fathers;  and 
if  a  new  Constitution  were  to  be  presented 
to  us,  although  perhaps  theoretically  show- 
ing more  symmetry  than  that  by  which  the 
nation  had  been  long  governed,  it  would 
be  as  difficult  to  transfer  to  it  the  allegiance 
of  the  people,  as  it  would  be  to  substitute 
the  worship  of  a  Madonna,  the  work  of 
modern  art,  for  the  devotion  paid  by  the 
natives  of  Saragossa  to  their  ancient  Palla- 
dium, Our  Lady  of  the  Pillar. 

But  the  Constitution  of  the  year  3,  with 
all  its  defects,  would  have  been  willingly 
received  by  the  nation  in  general,  as  afford- 
ing some  security  from  the  revolutionary 
storm,  had  it  not  been  for  a  selfish  and 
usurping  device  of  the  Thermidoriens  to 
mutilate  and  render  it  nugatory  at  the  very 
outset,  by  engrafting  upon  it  the  means  of 
continuing  the  exercise  of  their  own  arbi 
trary  authority.  It  must  never  be  foryotten, 
that  these  conquerors  of  Robespiert*  nad 
shared  all  the  excesses  of  his  party  before 
they  became  his  personal  enemies;  ani 
that  when  deprived  of  their  official  situa 
tions  and  influence,  which  they  were  like.  / 
to  be  by  a  representative  body  freely  an. 
fairly  elected,  they  were  certain  to  be  ex 
posed  to  great  individual  danger. 

Determined,  therefore,  to  retain  the  pow 
er  in  their  own  hands,  the  Thermidorienn 
suffered,  with  an  indifference  amounting 
almost  to  contempt,  the  Constitution  to 
pass  through,  and  be  approved  of  by  the 
Convention.  But,  under  pretence  that  it 
would  be  highly  impolitic  to  deprive  the 
nation  of  the  services  of  men  accustomed 
to  public  business,  they  procured  two  de- 
crees to  be  passed  ;  the  first  ordaining  the 
electoral  bodies  of  France  to  choose,  aa 
representatives  to  the  two  councils  under 
the  new  Constitution,  at  least  two-thirda  of 
the  members  presently  sitting  in  Conven- 
tion ;  and  the  second  declaring,  that  in  de- 
fault of  a  return  of  two-thirds  of  the  present 
deputies,  as  prescribed,  the  Convention 
themselves  should  fill  up  the  vacancies  out 
of  their  own  body ;  in  other  worus,  should 
name  a  large  proportion  of  themselves  their 
own  successors  in  legislative  power. 

These  decrees  were  sent  down  to  the 
Primary  Assemblies  of  the  people,  and  eve- 
ry art  was  used  to  render  them  accepta- 
ble. 

But  the  nation,  and  particularly  the  city 
of  Paris,  generally  revolted  at  this  stretch 
of  arbitrary  authority.  They  recollected, 
that  all  the  members  who  had  sat  in  the 
first  National  Assembly,  so  remarkable  for 
talent,  had  been  declared  ineligible,  on  that 
single  account,  for  the  second  Legislative 
Body ;  and  now,  men  so  infinitely  tiie  infe- 
riors of  those  who  were  the  colleagues  of 
Mirabeau,  Mounier,  and  other  great  names, 
presumed  not  only  to  declare  themselvee 
>i)<rible  by  re-election,  but  dared  to  eetab- 


Cht^.  XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


211 


liah  two-thirds  of  their  number  as  indispen- 
sable ingredients  of  the  Legislative  Assem- 
blies, which,  according  to  tlie  words  alike 
and  spirit  of  the  Constitution,  ought  to  be 
chosen  by  the  free  voice  of  the  people. 
The  electors,  and  particularly  those  of  the 
sections  of  Paris,  angrily  demanded  to  know, 
apon  what  public  services  the  deputies  of 
the  Convention  founded  their  title  to  a 
privilege  so  unjust  and  anomalous.  Among 
the  more  active  part  of  them,  to  whom  the 
measure  was  chiefly  to  be  ascribed,  they 
eaw  but  a  few  reformed  Terrorists,  who 
■wished  to  retain  the  power  of  tyranny, 
though  disposed  to  exercise  it  with  some 
degree  of  moderation,  and  the  loss  of  whose 
places  might  be  possibly  followed  by  that 
of  their  heads  ;  in  the  others,  they  only  be- 
held a  flock  of  timid  and  discountenanced 
Helots,  willing  to  purchase  personal  secu- 
rity at  the  sacrifice  of  personal  honour  and 
duty  to  the  public  ;  while  in  the  Convention 
as  a  body,  who  pronounced  so  large  a  pro- 
portion of  their  number  as  indispensable  to 
the  service  of  the  state,  judging  from  their 
conduct  hitherto,  they  could  but  discover 
an  image  composed  partly  of  iron,  partly  of 
clay,  deluged  with  the  blood  of  many  thcu- 
fiand  victims — a  pageant  without  a  will  of 
its  own,  and  which  had  been  capable  of  giv- 
ing its  countenance  to  the  worst  of  actions, 
at  the  instigation  of  the  worst  of  men — a 
sort  of  Moloch,  whose  name  had  been  used 
by  its  priests  to  compel  the  most  barbarous 
Eacrifices.  To  sum  up  the  whole,  these  ex- 
perienced men  of  public  business,  without 
whose  intermediation  it  was  pretended  the 
national  affairs  could  not  be  carried  on, 
could  only  shelter  themselves  from  the 
charge  of  unbounded  wickedness,  by  plead- 
ing their  unlimited  cowardice,  and  by  poor- 
ly alleging  that  for  two  years  they  had  sat, 
voted,  and  delioerated,  under  a  system  of 
compulsion  and  terror.  So  much  meanness 
rendered  those  who  were  degraded  by  it 
unfit,  not  merely  to  rule,  but  to  live  ;  and 
yet  two-thirds  of  their  number  were,  ac- 
cording to  their  own  decrees,  to  be  intrud- 
ed on  the  nation  as  an  indispensable  portion 
of  its  representatives. 

Such  was  the  language  held  in  the  assem- 
blies of  the  sections  of  Paris,  who  were  the 
more  irritated  against  the  domineering  and 
engrossing  spirit  exhibited  in  these  usurp- 
ing enactments,  because  it  was  impossible 
to  forget  that  it  was  their  interference,  and 
the  protection  afforded  by  their  National 
Guard,  which  had  saved  the  Convention 
from  massacre  on  more  occasions  than 
one. 

In  the  meanwhile,  reports  continued  to 
be  made  from  the  Primary  Assemblies,  of 
their  adhesion  to  the  constitution,  in  which 
they  were  almost  unanimous,  and  of  their 
sentiments  concerning  the  two  decrees, 
authorising  and  commanding  the  re-elec- 
tion of  two-thirds  of  the  Convention,  on 
which  there  existed  a  strong  difference  of 
opinion.  The  Convention,  determined,  at 
all  rates,  to  carry  through  with  a  high  hand 
the  iniquitous  and  arbitrary  measure  which 
they  proposed,  failed  not  to  make  these  re- 
ports such  as  they  desired  them  to  be,  and 


announced  that  the  two  decrees  had  been 
accepted  by  a  majority  of  the  Primary  As- 
semblies. The  citizens  of  Paris  challeng- 
ed the  accuracy  of  the  returns — alleged 
that  the  reports  were  falsified — demanded 
a  scrutiny,  and  openly  bid  defiance  to  the 
Convention.  Their  power  of  meeting  to- 
gether in  their  sections,  on  account  of  the 
appeal  to  the  people,  gave  them  an  oppor- 
tunity of  feeling  their  own  strength,  and 
encouraging  each  other  by  speeches  and 
applauses.  They  were  farther  embolden- 
ed and  animated  by  men  of  literary  talent, 
whose  power  was  restored  with  the  liberty 
of  the  press.  Finally,  they  declared  their 
sittings  permanent,  and  that  they  had  the 
right  to  protect  the  liberties  of  France. 
The  greater  part  of  the  National  Guards 
were  united  on  this  occasion  against  the 
existing  government ;  and  nothing  less  wa» 
talked  of,  than  that  they  should  avail  them- 
selves of  their  arms  and  numbers,  march 
down  to  the  Tuilleries,  and  dictate  law  to 
the  Convention  with  their  muskets,  as  the 
revolutionary  mob  of  the  suburbs  used  to 
do  with  their  pikes. 

The  Convention,  unpopular  themselvea, 
and  embarked  in  an  unpopular  cause,  began 
to  look  anxiously  around  for  assistance. 
They  chiefly  relied  on  the  aid  of  about  five 
thousand  regular  troops,  who  were  assem- 
bled in  and  around  Paris.  These  declared 
for  government  with  the  greater  readiness 
that  the  insurrection  was  of  a  character  de 
cidedly  aristocratical,  and  that  the  French  ar- 
mies, as  already  repeatedly  noticed,  were  at- 
tached to  the  Republic.  "But  besides,  these 
professional  troops  entertained  the  usual 
degree  of  contempt  for  the  National  Guards, 
and  on  this  account  alone  were  quite  ready 
to  correct  the  insolence  of  the  pekins*  or 
muscadinSji  who  usurped  the  dress  and 
character  of  soldiers.  Tne  Convention  had 
also  the  assistance  of  several  hundred  artil- 
lerymen, who,  since  the  taking  of  the  Bas- 
tille, had  been  always  zealous  democrats. 
Still  apprehensive  of  the  result,  they  added 
to  this  force  another  of  a  more  ominous 
description.  It  was  a  body  of  volunteers, 
consisting  of  about  fifteen  hundred  men, 
whom  they  chose  to  denominate  the  Sacred 
Band,  or  the  Patriots  of  1789.  They  were 
gleaned  out  of  the  suburbs,  and  from  the 
jails,  the  remnants  of  the  insurrectional 
battalions  which  had  formed  the  body-guard 
of  Hebert  and  Robespierre,  and  had  been 
the  instruments  by  which  they  executed 
their  atrocities.  The  Convention  proclaim- 
ed them  men  of  the  10th  of  August — un- 
doubtedly they  were  also  men  of  the  massa- 
cres of  September.  It  was  conceived  that 
the  beholding  such  a  pack  of  bloodhounds, 
ready  to  be  let  loose,  might  inspire  horror 
into  the  citizens  of  Pa»is,  to  whom  their 
very  aspect  brought  so  many  fearful  recol- 
lections. It  did  so,  but  it  also  inspired 
hatred;  and  the  number  and  zeal  of  fhe  cit- 
izens, compensating    for  the   fury  of  the 


*  Pekins,  a  word  of  contempt,  by  which  the  «ii- 
diers  distinguished  those  who  did  not  belong  to 
their  profession. 

t  Muscadins,  fops — a  phrase  applied  to  tb*  (Ml 
ter  clasi  of  Sanjs  Cvlottei. 


212 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


{Chap.  XX. 


Terrorists,  and  for  the  superior  discipline 
of  the  regular  troops  to  be  employed  against 
them,  promised  an  arduous  and  doubtful 
conflict. 

Much,  it  was  obvious,  must  depend  up- 
ofU  the  courage  and  conduct  of  the  leaders. 
The  sections  employed,  as  their  Com- 
mander-in-chief, General  Danican,  an  old 
officer  of  no  high  reputation  for  liiilitary 
skill,  but  otherwise  a  worthy  and  sincere 
man.  The  Convention  at  first  made  choice 
of  Menou,  and  directed  him,  supported  by 
a  strong  military  force,  to  march  into  the 
section  Le  Pelletier,  and  disarm  the  Na- 
tional Guards  of  that  district.  This  sec- 
tion is  one  of  the  most  wealthy,  and  of 
course  most  aristocratic,  in  Paris,  being  in- 
habited by  bankers,  merchants,  the  weaJthi- 
est  class  of  tradesmen,  and  the  better  or- 
ders in  general.  Its  inhabitants  had  form- 
erly composed  the  battalion  of  National 
Guards  des  Filles  Saint  Thomas,  the  only 
one  which,  taking  part  in  the  defence  of 
the  Tuilleries,  shared  the  fate  of  the  Swiss 
Guards  upon  the  memorable  10th  of  Au- 
gust. The  section  continued  to  entertain 
sentiments  of  the  same  character,  and 
when  Menou  appeared  at  the  head  of  his 
forces,  accompanied  by  La  Porte,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Convention,  he  found  the  citi- 
zens under  arms,  and  exhibiting  such  a 
ehow  of  resistance,  as  induced  him,  after  a 
parley,  to  retreat  without  venturing  an  at- 
tack upon  them. 

Menou's  indecision  showed  that  he  was 
not  a  man  suited  to  the  times,  and  he  was 
suspended  from  his  command  by  the  Con- 
tention, and  placed  under  arrest.  The 
general  management  of  affairs,  and  the  di- 
xection  of  the  Conventional  forces,  was 
then  committed  to  Barras  ;  but  the  utmost 
anxiety  prevailed  among  the  members  of 
the  committees  by  whom  government  was 
administered,  to  find  a  General  of  nerve 
and  decision  enough  to  act  under  Barras, 
in  the  actual  command  of  the  military  force, 
in  a  service  so  delicate,  and  times  so  men- 
acing. It  was  then  that  a  few  words  from 
Barras,  addressed  to  his  colleagues,  Carnot 
and  Tallien,  decided  the  fate  of  Europe  for 
■well  nigh  twenty  years.  "  I  have  the  man," 
he  said,  "  whom  you  want ;  a  little  Corsi- 
can  officer,  who  will  not  stand  upon  cer- 
emony." 

The  acquaintance  of  Barras  and  Buona- 
parte had  been,  as  we  have  already  said, 
formed  at  the  siege  of  Toulon,  and  the  for- 
mer had  not  forgotten  the  inventive  and  deci- 
sive genius  of  the  young  officer  to  whom  the 
conquest  of  that  city  was  to  be  ascribed.  On 
the  recommendation  of  Barras,  Buonaparte 
wag  sent  for.  He  had  witnessed  the  retreat 
of  Menou,  and  explained  with  much  sim- 
plicity the  causes  of  that  check,  and  the 
modes  of  resistance  which  ought  to  be 
adopted  in  case  of  the  apprehended  attack. 
His  explanations  gave  satisfaction.  Buona- 
parte was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Conven- 
tional forces,  and  took  all  the  necessary 
precautions  to  defend  the  same  palace 
which  he  had  seen  attacked  and  carried  by 
a  body  of  insurgents  on  the  10th  of  August. 
Buthe  possessed  far  more  formidable  means 


of  defence  than  were  in  the  power  of  the 
unfortunate  Louis.  He  had  two  hundred 
pieces  of  cannon,  which  his  higk  military 
skill  enabled  him  to  distribute  to  the  ut- 
most advantage.  He  had  more  than  five 
thousand  regular  forces,  and  about  fifteen 
hundred  volunteers.  He  was  thus  enabled 
to  defend  the  whole  circuit  of  the  Tuille- 
ries ;  to  establish  posts  in  all  the  avenues 
by  which  it  could  be  approached  ;  to  pos- 
sess himself  of  the  bridges,  so  as  to  prevent 
co-operation  between  the  sections  which 
lay  on  the  opposite  banks  of  the  river  ;  and 
finally,  to  establish  a  strong  reserve  in  the 
Place  Louis  Quinxe,  or,  as  it  was  then  call- 
ed. Place  de  la  Revolution.  Buonaparte 
had  only  a  few  hours  to  make  all  these 
arrangements,  for  he  was  named  in  place 
of  Menou  late  on  the  night  before  the 
conflict. 

A  merely  civic  army,  having  no  cannon, 
(for  the  field-pieces,  of  which  each  section 
possessed  two,  had  been  almost  all  given 
up  to  the  Convention  after  the  disarming 
the  suburb  of  Saint  Antoine,)  ought  to  have 
respected  so  strong  a  position  as  the  Tuille 
ries,  when  so  formidably  defended.  Their 
policy  should  have  been,  as  in  the  days  of 
Henry  II.,  to  have  barricaded  the  streets  at 
every  point,  and  cooped  up  the  Convention- 
al troops  within  the  defensive  position  they 
had  assumed,  till  want  of  provisions  obliged 
them  to  sally  at  disadvantage,  or  to  surren- 
der. But  a  popular  force  is  generally  im- 
patient of  delay.  The  retreat  of  Menou 
had  given  them  spirit,  and  they  apprehend- 
ed, with  some  show  of  reason,  that  th€ 
sections,  if  they  did  not  unite  their  forces, 
might  be  attacked  and  disarmed  separately. 
They  therefore  resolved  to  invest  the 
Convention  in  a  hostile  manner,  require 
of  the  members  to  recall  the  obnoxious 
decrees,  and  allow  the  nation  to  make  a 
free  and  undictated  election  of  its  repre- 
sentatives. 

On  the  13th  Vendemaire,  corresponding 
to  the  4th  October,  the  civil  aflfray,  com- 
monly called  the  Day  of  the  Sections,  took 
place.  The  National  Guards  assembled  to 
the  number  of  thirty  thousand  men  and  up- 
wards, but  having  no  artillery.  They  ad- 
vanced by  difierent  avenues,  in  close  col- 
umns, but  everywhere  found  the  most  for- 
midable resistance.  One  large  force  occu-  , 
pied  the  quays  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Seine,  threatening  the  palace  from  tha*.  side 
of  the  river.  Another  strong  division  ad- 
vanced on  the  Tuilleries,  through  the  street 
of  St.  Honore,  designing  to  debouche  on  the 
palace,  where  the  Convention  was  sitting, 
by  the  Rue  de  I'Echelle.  They  did  so, 
without  duly  reflecting  that  they  were  flank- 
ed on  most  points  by  strong  posts  in  the 
lanes  and  crossings,  defended  by  artillery. 

The  contest  began  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore. 
Buonaparte  had  established  a  strong  post 
with  two  guns  at  the  Cul-de-Sac  Dauphine, 
opposite  to  the  Church  of  St.  Roche.  He 
permitted  the  imprudent  Parisians  to  in- 
volve their  long  and  dense  columns  in  the 
narrow  street  without  interruption,  until 
they  established  a  body  of  grenadiers  in  the 
front  of  the  church,  and  opposite  to  the  po 


Chap.  XX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


213 


Bition  at  the  Cul-de-Sac.  Each  party,  as 
usual,  throws  on  the  other  the  blame  of 
commencing  the  civil  contest  for  which 
both  were  prepared.  But  all  agree  the  fir- 
ing commenced  with  musketry.  It  was 
instantly  followed  by  discharges  of  grape- 
sliot  and  cannister,  which,  pointed  as  the 
guns  were,  upon  the  thick  columns  of  the 
National  Guards,  arranged  on  the  quays  and 
in  the  narrow  streets,  made  an  astounding 
carnage.  The  National  Guards  offered  a 
brave  resistance,  and  even  attempted  to 
rush  on  the  artillery,  and  carry  the  guns  by 
main  force.  But  a  measure  which  is  des- 
perate enough  in  the  open  field,  becomes 
impossible  when  the  road  to  assault  lies 
through  narrow  streets,  which  are  swept  by 
the  cannon  at  every  discharge.  The  citi- 
zens were  compelled  to  give  way.  By  a 
more  judicious  arrangement  of  their  re- 
spective forces  different  results  might  have 
been  hoped  ;  but  how  could  Danican  in  any 
circumstances  have  competed  with  Buona- 
parte ?  The  affair,  in  which  several  hun- 
dred men  were  killed  and  wounded,  was 
terminated  as  a  general  action  in  about  an 
hour  ;  and  the  victorious  troops  of  the  Con- 
vention, marching  into  the  different  sec- 
tions, completed  the  dispersion  and  disarm- 
ing of  their  opponents,  an  operation  which 
lasted  till  late  at  night. 

The  Convention  used  this  victory  with 
the  moderation  which  recollection  of  the 
Reign  of  Terror  had  inspired.  Only  two 
persons  suffered  death  for  the  Day  of  the 
Sections.  One  of  them.  La  Fond,  had 
been  a  Garde  du  Corps,  was  distinguished 
for  his  intrepidity,  and  repeatedly  rallied 
the  National  Guard  under  the  storm  of 
grape-shot.  Several  other  persons  having 
ned,  were  in  their  absence  capitally  con- 
demned, but  were  not  strictly  looked  after  ; 
and  deportation  was  th«  punishment  in- 
flicted upon  others.  The  accused  were 
indebted  for  this  clemency  chiefly  to  the 
interference  of  those  members  of  Conven- 
tion, who,  themselves  exiled  on  the  3Ist 
of  May,  had  suffered  persecution,  and  learn- 
ed mercy. 

The  Convention  showed  themselves  at 
the  same  time  liberal  to  their  protectors. 
General  Berruyer,  who  commanded  the  vol- 
unteers of  1789,  and  other  general  officers 
employed  on  the  Day  of  the  Sections,  were 
loaded  with  praises  and  preferment.  But  a 
separate  triumph  was  destined  to  Buona- 
parte, as  the  hero  of  the  day.  Five  days 
after  the  battle,  Barras  solicited  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Convention  to  the  young  officer, 
by  whose  prompt  and  skilful  dispositions 
the  Tuilleries  had  been  protected  on  the 
13lh  Vendemaire,  and  proposed  that  they 
should  approve  of  General  Buonaparte's 
appointment  as  second  in  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Interior,  Barras  himself  still 
rem;iining  commander-in-chief.  The  pro- 
posal was  adopted  by  acclamation.  The 
Convention  retained  their  resentment 
against  Menou,  whom  they  suspected  of 
treachery  ;  but  Buonaparte  interfering  as  a 
mediator,  they  were  content  to  look  over 
his  offence. 

Ai\er  this  decided  triumph  over  their  op- 


ponents, the  Convention  ostensibly  laid 
down  their  authority,  and  retiring  from  the 
scene  in  their  present  character,  appeared 
upon  it  anew  in  that  of  a  Primary  Assem- 
bly, in  order  to  make  choice  of  such  of 
their  members  as,  by  virtue  of  the  decrees 
of  two-thirds,  as  they  were  called,  were 
to  remain  on  the  stage,  as  members  of  the 
Legislative  Councils  of  Elders  and  Five 
Hundred. 

After  this  change  of  names  and  dresses, 
resembling  the  shifts  of  a  strolling  company 
of  players,  the  two-thirds  of  the  old  Con- 
vention, with  one-third  of  members  newly 
elected,  took  upon  them  the  administratioa 
of  the  new  constitution.  The  two  re-elect- 
ed thirds  formed  a  large  proportion  of  the 
councils,  and  were,  in  some  respects,  much 
like  those  unfortunate  women,  who,  gather- 
ed from  jails  and  from  the  streets  of  the 
metropolis,  have  been  sometimes  sent  out 
to  foreign  settlements;  and,  however  pro- 
fligate their  former  lives  may  have  been, 
often  regain  character,  and  become  tolera- 
ble members  of  society,  in  a  change  of 
scene  and  situation. 

The  Directory  consisted  of  Barras,  Sieyes, 
Reubel,  Latourneurde  la  Manche,  and  Re- 
veilliere  Lepaux,  to  the  exclusion  of  Tal- 
lien,  who  was  deeply  offended.  Four  of 
these  Directors  were  reformed  Jacobins,  or 
Thermidoriens ;  the  fifth,  Reveilliere  Le- 
paux, was  esteemed  a  Girondist.  Sieyes, 
whose  taste  was  rather  for  speculating  in 
politics  than  acting  in  them,  declined  what 
he  considered  a  hazardous  office,  and  was 
replaced  by  Carnot. 

The  nature  of  the  insurrection  of  the 
Sections  was  not  ostensibly  royalist,  but 
several  of  its  leaders  were  of  that  party  in 
secret,  and,  if  successful,  it  would  most 
csrtainly  have  assumed  that  complexion. 
Thus,  the  first  step  of  Napoleon's  rise 
commenced  by  the  destruction  of  the  hopes 
of  the  House  of  Bourbon,  under  the  reviv- 
ing influence  of  which,  twenty  years  after- 
wards, he  himself  was  obliged  to  succumb. 
But  the  long  path  which  closed  so  darkly, 
was  now  opening  upon  him  in  light  and  joy. 
Buonaparte's  high  serwices,  and  the  rank 
which  he  had  obtained,  rendered  him  now 
a  young  man  of  the  first  hope  and  expecta- 
tion, mingling  on  terms  of  consideration 
among  the  rulers  of  the  state,  instead  of 
being  regarded  as  a  neglected  stranger,  sup- 
porting himself  with  difficulty,  and  haunt- 
ing public  offices  and  bureaux  in  vain,  to 
obtain  some  chance  of  prefermeiit,  or  even 
employment. 

From  second  in  command,  the  new 
General  soon  became  General-in-chief  of 
the  Army  of  the  Interior,  Barras  having 
found  his  duties  as  a  Director  were  incom- 
patible with  those  of  military  command. 
He  employed  his  genius,  equally  prompt 
and  profound,  in  improving  the  state  of  the 
military  forces ;  and,  in  order  to  prevent 
the  recurrence  of  such  insurrections  aa 
that  of  the  13th  Vendemaire,  or  Day  of  the 
Sections,  and  as  the  many  others  by  which 
it  was  preceded,  he  appointed  and  organized 
a  guard  for  the  protection  of  the  Represen- 
tative Body. 


214 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XX. 


As  the  dearth  of  bread,  and  other  causes 
of  disaffection,  continued  to  produce  com- 
motions in  Paris,  the  General  of  the  Inte- 
rior was  sometimes  obliged  to  oppose  them 
with  the  military  force.  On  one  occasion, 
it  is  said,  that  when  Buonaparte  was  anx- 
iously admonishing  the  multitude  to  dis- 
perse, a  very  bulky  woman  exhorted  them 
to  keep  their  ground.  "  Never  mind  these 
coxcombs  with  the  epaulettes,"  she  said  ; 
"  they  do  not  care  if  we  are  all  starved,  so 
they  themselves  feed  and  get  fat." — "  Look 
at  me,  good  woman,"  said  Buonaparte,  who 
was  then  as  thin  as  a  shadow,  "  and  tell  me 
which  is  the  fatter  of  us  two."  This  turn- 
ed the  laugh  against  the  Amazon,  and  the 
rabble  dispersed  in  good-humour.  If  not 
among  the  most  distinguished  of  Napoleon's 
victories,  this  is  certainly  worthy  of  record, 
as  achieved  at  the  least  cost. 

Meantime  circumstances,  which  we  will 
relate  according  to  his  own  statement,  in- 
troduce Buonaparte  to  an  acquaintance, 
which  was  destined  to  have  much  influence 
on  his  future  fate.  A  fine  boy,  of  ten  or 
twelve  years  old,  presented  himself  at  the 
levee  of  the  General  of  the  Interior,  with  a 
request  of  a  nature  unusually  interesting. 
He  stated  his  name  to  be  Eugene  Beauhar- 
nois,  son  of  the  ci-devant  Vicomte  de  Beau- 
harnois.  who,  adhering  to  the  revolutionary 
party,  had  been  a  general  in  the  Republican 
service  upon  the  Rhine,  and  falling  under 
tlie  canspjess  suspicion  of  the  Committee 
of  Public  Safety,  wa-s  delivered  to  the  Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal,  and  fell  by  its  sentence 
just  tour  days  before  the  overthrow  of  Ro- 
bespierre. Eugene  was  come  to  request  of 
Buonaparte,  as  General  of  the  Interior,  that 
his  father's  sword  might  be  restored  to  him. 
The  prayer  of  the  young  supplicant  was  as 
interesting  as  his  manners  were  engaging, 
and  Napoleon  felt  so  much  interest  in  him, 
that  he  was  induced  to  cultivate  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Eugene's  mother,  afterwards 
the  Hmpress  Josephine. 

This  lady  was  a  Creolian,  the  daughter 
of  a  planter  in  St.  Domingo.  Her  name  at 
liiU  length  was  Marie  Joseph  RoseTascher 
1^e  la  Fagerie.  She  had  suffered  her  share 
of  revolutionary  miseries.  After  her  hus- 
band, General  Beauharnois,  had  been  de- 
prived of  his  command,  she  was  arrested  as 
a  Huspected  person,  and  detained  in  prison 
♦ill  the  general  liberation,  which  succeeded 
;he  revolution  of  9th  Thermidor.  While 
in  confinement,  Madame  Beauharnois  had 
formed  an  intimacy  with  a  companion  in 
distress,  Madame  Fontenai,  now  Madame 
Tallien,  from  which  she  derived  great  ad- 
Tantages  after  her  friend's  marriage.  With 
a  remarkably  graceful  person,  amiable  man- 
ners, and  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  good-hu- 
mour, Madame  Beauharnois  was  formed  to 
be  an  ornament  to  society.  Barras,  the 
Thermidorien  hero,  himself  an  cx-noblc, 
was  fond  of  society,  desirous  of  enjoying  it 
on  an  agreeable  scale,  and  of  washing  a\\  av 
the  dregs  which  Jacobinism  had  mingled 
with  all  the  dearest  interests  of  life.  He 
loved  show,  too,  and  pleasure,  and  might 
BOW  indulge  both  without  the  risk  of  falling 
•nder  the  suspicion  of  incivism;  which,  in 


the  reign  of  Terror,  would  have  been  incur* 
red  by  an  attempt  to  intermingle  elegance 
with  the  enjoyments  of  social  intercourse. 
At  the  apartments  which  he  occupied,  aa 
one  of  the  Directory,  in  the  Luxemburg 
Palace,  he  gave  its  free  course  to  hie  natu- 
ral  taste,  and  assembled  an  agreeable  socie- 
ty of  both  sexes.  Madame  Tallien  and  her 
friend  formed  the  soul  of  these  assemblies, 
and  it  was  supposed  that  Barras  was  not  in- 
sensible to  the  charms  of  Madame  Beau 
harnois, — a  rumour  which  was  likely  to 
arise,  whether  with  or  without  foundation. 

When  Madame  Beauharnois  and  General 
Buonaparte  became  intimate,  the  latter  as- 
sures us,  and  we  see  no  reason  to  doubt 
him.  that  although  the  lady  was  two  or 
three  years  older  than  himself,*  yet  being 
still  in  the  full  bloom  of  beauty,  and  ex- 
tremely agreeable  in  her  manners,  he  was 
induced,  solely  by  her  personal  charms,  to 
make  her  an  offer  of  his  hand,  heart,  and 
fortunes, — little  supposing,  of  course,  to 
what  a  pitch  the  latter  were  to  arise. 

Although  he  himself  is  said  to  have  been 
a  fatalist,  believing  in  destiny  and  in  the  in- 
fluence of  his  star,  he  knew  nothing,  proba- 
bly, of  the  prediction  of  a  negro  sorceress, 
who,  while  Marie  Joseph  was  but  a  child, 
prophesied  she  should  rise  to  a  dignity 
greater  than  that  of  a  queen,  yet  fall  from  it 
before  her  death.t  This  was  one  of  thoeo 
vague  auguries,  delivered  at  random  by 
fools  or  impostors,  which  the  caprice  of 
Fortune  sometimes  matches  with  a  corres- 
ponding and  conforming  event.  But  with- 
out trusting  to  the  African  sibyl's  prediction. 
Buonaparte  may  have  formed  his  match  un- 
der the  auspices  of  ambition  as  well  as  love. 
The  marrying  Madame  Beauharnois  was  .1 
mean  of  uniting  his  fortune  with  those  of 
Barras  and  Tallien,  the  first  of  whom  gov- 
erned France  as  one  of  the  Directors  •,  and 
the  last,  from  talents  and  political  connex- 
ions, had  scarcely  inferior  influence.  He 
had  already  deserved  well  of  them  for  his 
conduct  on  the  Day  of  the  Sections,  but  he 
required  their  countenance  to  rise  still  high- 
er ;  and  without  derogating  from  the  bride's 
merits,  we  may  suppose  her  influence  in 
their  society  corresponded  with  the  views 
of  her  lover.  It  is,  however,  certain,  that 
he  always  regarded  her  with  peculiar  af 
fection  ;  that  he  relied  on  her  fate,  which 
he  considered  as  linked  with  and  strength- 
ening his  own  ;  and  reposed,  besides,  con- 
siderable confidence  in  Josephine's  tact  and 


*  Buonaparte  was  then  in  his  twenty-sixth  year 
Josephine  gave  herself  ia  the  marriage  contract  for 
twenty-eight. 

t  .'V  laily  of  high  rank,  who  happened  to  live  for 
some  tijne  in  tlio  same  convenl  nl  Paris,  wher« 
Josephinf^  was  also  a  pensioner  or  boarder,  heard 
her  mention  the  prophecy,  and  told  it  herself  to  th« 
author,  juat  about  tlie  time  of  the  Italian  expedi- 
tien,  when  Buonapiirf  was  beginning  to  attrael 
notice.  Another  clause  is  usually  added  to  tlie 
Iirediclion — that  the  party  whom  it  concerned 
shoulil  die  in  an  hospital,  which  was  afterwards 
explained  as  referring  to  Malmaison.  This  tho 
author  did  not  hear  from  the  same  authority.  Thn 
lady  mentioned  used  to  speak  in  the  highest  terms 
of  the  simple  manners  and  grsat  kindness  of  kfe ' 
dame  Beauharoots. 


Chap.  XXL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


215 


address  in  political  business.  She  had  at 
all  times  the  art  of  mitigating  his  temper, 
and  turning  aside  the  hasty  determinations 
of  his  angry  moments,  not  by  directly  op- 
posing, but  by  gradually  parrying  and  dis- 
arming them.  It  must  be  added  to  her 
great  praise,  that  she  was  always  a  willing, 
and  often  a  successful  advocate,  in  the  cause 
of  humanity. 

They  were  married  9th  March  1796  ;  and 
the  dowry  of  the  bride  was  the  chief  com- 
mand of  the  Italian  armies,  a  scene  which 


opened  a  full  career  to  the  ambition  of  tha 
youthful  General.  Buonaparte  remained 
with  his  wife  only  three  days  after  his  mar- 
riage, hastening  to  see  his  family,  who  were 
still  at  Marseilles,  and,  having  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  exhibiting  himself  as  a  favour- 
ite of  Fortune  in  the  city  which  he  had 
lately  left  in  the  capacity  of  an  indigent  ad- 
venturer, proceeded  rapidly  to  commence 
the  career  to  which  Fate  called  him,  by 
placing  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Italian 
army. 


CHAP.  XZI. 

The  Alps. — Feelings  and  Views  of  Buonaparte  on  being  appointed  to  the  Command 
of  the  Army  of  Italy — General  Account  of  his  new  Principles  of  Warfare — Moun- 
tainous Countries  peculiarly  favourable  to  them. — Retrospect  of  Military  Proceed- 
ings since  October  VTio. — Hostility  of  the  French  Government  to  the  Pope. — Massa- 
cre of  the  French  Envoy  Basseville,  at  Rome. — Atistriayi  Army  under  Beaulieu. — 
Napoleon's  Plan  for  entering  Italy — Battle  of  Monte  Notte,  and  Buonaparte's  first 
Victory — Again  defeats  the  Austrians  at  Millesimo — and  again  under  Colli — Takes 
possession  of  Cherasco — King  of  Sardinia  requests  an  Armistice,  which  leads  to  a 
Peace  concluded  on  very  severe  Terms. — Close  of  the  Piedmontese  Campaign. — Na- 
poleon's Character  at  this  period. 


Napoleon  has  himself  observed,  that  no 
country  in  the  world  is  more  distinctly 
marked  out  by  its  natural  boundaries  than 
Italy.  The  Alps  seem  a  barrier  erected 
by  Nature  herself,  on  which  she  has  in- 
scribed in  gigantic  characters,  "  Here  let 
Ambition  be  staid."  Yet  this  titroendous 
circuravallation  of  mountains,  as  it  could 
not  prevent  the  ancient  Romans  from  break- 
in?  out  to  desolate  the  w(5rid,  so  it  has 
jeen  in  like  manner  found,  ever  since  the 
days  of  Hannibal  unequal  to  protect  Italy 
herself  from  invasion.  The  French  nation, 
in  the  times  of  which  we  treat,  spoke  in- 
deed of  the  .\lps  as  a  natural  boundary,  so 
far  as  tr  authorize  them  to  claim  all  which 
lay  on  the  western  side  of  these  mountains, 
as  naturally  pertaining  to  their  dominions  ; 
but  they  never  deigned  to  respect  them  as 
such,  when  the  question  respected  their  in- 
vading on  their  own  part  the  territories  of 
other  states,  which  lay  on  or  beyond  the 
formidable  frontier.  They  assumed  the 
law  of  natural  limits  as  an  unchallengeable 
rule  when  it  made  in  favour  of  France,  but 
never  allowed  it  to  be  quoted  against  her 
interest. 

During  the  Revolutionary  War,  the  gen- 
eral fortune  of  battle  had  varied  from  time 
to  time  in  the  neighbourhood  of  these 
mighty  bound.aries.  The  King  of  Sardinia 
possessed  almost  all  the  fortresses  which 
command  the  passes  on  these  mountains, 
and  had  therefore  been  said  to  wear  the 
keys  of  the  Alps  at  his  girdle.  He  had  in- 
deed lost  his  Dukedom  of  Savoy,  and  the 
County  of  Nice,  in  the  last  campaign;  but 
he  still  maintained  in  opposition  to  the 
French  a  very  considerable  army,  and  was 
•ipported  by  his  powerful  ally  the  Empe- 
ror of  Austria,  always  vigilant  regarding 
that  rich  and  beautiful  portion  of  his  do- 
miniona  which  lies  in  the  north  of  Italy. 
The  frontiers  of  Piedmont  were  therefore 
•orered  bj  a  strong  Austro-Sardiniaa  army, 


opposed  to  the  French  armies  to  which  Na- 
poleon had  been  just  named  Commander- 
in-chief.  A  strong  Neapolitan  force  wa» 
also  to  be  added,  so  that  in  general  num- 
bers their  opponents  were  much  superior 
to  the  French  ;  but  a  greatpart  of  this  force 
was  cooped  up  in  garrisons  which  could  not 
be  abandoned. 

It  may  be  imagined  with  what  delight  the 
General,  scarce  aged  twenty-six,  advanced 
to  an  independent  field  of  glory  and  con- 
quest, confident  in  his  own  powers,  and  in 
the  perfect  knowledge  of  the  country  which 
he  had  acquired,  when,  by  his  scientific 
plans  of  the  campaign,  he  had  enabled 
General  Dumorbion  to  drive  the  Austriana 
back,  and  obtain  possession  of  the  Col  di 
Tende,  Saorgio,  and  the  gorges  of  the  high- 
er Alps.  Buonaparte's  achievements  had 
hitherto  been  under  the  auspices  of  others. 
He  made  the  dispositions  before  Toulon, 
but  it  was  Dugommier  who  had  the  credit  of 
taking  the  place.  Dumorbion,  as  we  have 
just  said,  obtained  the  merit  of  the  advan- 
tages in  Piedmont.  Even  in  the  civil  tur- 
moil of  13th  Vendemaire,  his  actual  servi- 
ces had  been  overshaded  by  the  official  dig- 
nity of  Barras,  as  Commander-in-chief.  Bat 
if  he  reaped  honour  in  Italy,  the  success 
would  be  exclusively  his  own  ;  and  that 
proud  heart  must  have  throbbed  to  meet 
danger  upon  such  terms ;  that  keen  spirit 
have  toiled  to  discover  the  means  of  suc- 
cess. 

For  victory,  he  relied  chiefly  upon  a  8y»- 
tem  of  tactics  hitherto  unpractised  in  war, 
or  at  least  upon  any  considerable  oruniform 
scale.  It  may  notTse  unnecessarj'  to  pause, 
to  take  a  general  view  of  the  principles 
which  he  now  called  into  action. 

Nations  in  the  savage  state,  being  con- 
stantly engaged  in  War,  always  form  for 
themselves  some  peculiar  mode  of  fighting, 
suited  to  the  country  they  inhabit,  and  to 
the  mode  ia  which  they  are  armed.    The 


816 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXI 


North-American  Indian  becomes  formida- 
ble as  a  rifleman  or  sharpshooter,  lays  am- 
buscades in  his  pathless  forests,  and  prac- 
tises all  the  arts  of  irregular  war.  The  Arab, 
or  Scythian,  manoeuvres  his  clouds  of  cav- 
alry, 80  as  to  envelope  and  destroy  his  en- 
emy in  his  deserts  by  sudden  onsets,  rapid 
retreats,  and  unexpected  rallies  ;  desolat- 
ing the  country  around,  cutting  off  his  an- 
tagonist's supplies,  and  practising,  in  short, 
the  species  of  war  proper  to  a  people  supe- 
rior in  light  cavalry. 

The  first  stage  of  civilization  is  less  fa- 
vourable to  success  in  war.  As  a  nation  ad- 
vances in  the  peaceful  arts,  and  as  the 
character  of  the  soldier  begins  to  be  less  fa- 
miliarly united  with  that  of  the  citizen, 
this  system  of  natural  tactics  falls  out  of 
practice;  and  when  foreign  invasion,  or 
civil  broils,  call  the  inhabitants  to  arms, 
they  have  no  idea  save  that  of  finding  out 
the  enemy,  rushing  upon  him,  and  commit- 
ting the  event  to  superior  strength,  bravery, 
or  numbers.  An  example  may  be  seen  in 
the  great  civil  war  of  England,  where  men 
fought  on  both  sides,  in  almost  every  coun- 
ty of  the  kingdom,  without  any  combina- 
tion, or  exact  idea  of  uniting  in  mutual  sup- 
port, or  manoeuvring  so  as  to  form  their  in- 
sulated bands  into  an  army  of  preponderat- 
ing force.  At  least,  what  was  attempted 
for  that  purpose  must  have  been  on  the  rud- 
est plan  possible,  where,  even  in  actual 
fight,  that  part  of  an  army  which  obtained 
any  advantage,  pursued  it  as  far  as  they 
could,  instead  of  using  their  success  for  the 
support  of  their  companions  ;  so  that  the 
main  body  was  often  defeated  when  a  victo- 
rious wing  W81S  in  pursuit  of  those  whom 
their  first  onset  had  broken. 

But  as  war  becomes  a  profession,  and  a 
subject  of  deep  study,  it  is  gradually  dis- 
covered, that  the  principles  of  tactics  de- 
pend upon  mathematical  and  arithmetical 
science  ;  and  that  the  commander  will  be 
victorious  who  can  assemble  the  greatest 
number  of  forces  upon  the  same  point  at 
the  same  moment,  notwithstanding  an  infe- 
riority of  numbers  to  the  enemy  when  the 
general  force  is  computed  on  both  sides. 
No  man  ever  possessed  in  a  greater  degree 
than  Buonaparte,  the  power  of  calculation 
and  combination  necessary  for  directing 
such  decisive  manoeuvres.  It  constituted 
indeed  his  secret — as  it  was  for  some  time 
called — and  that  secret  consisted  in  aii  im- 
agination fertile  in  expedients  which  would 
never  have  occurred  to  others ;  clearness 
and  precision  in  forming  his  plans;  a  mode 
of  directing  with  certainty  the  s-^parate 
moving  columns  which  were  to  execute 
them,  by  arranging  so  that  each  division 
should  arrive  on  the  destined  position  at 
the  exact  time  when  their  service  was  ne- 
cessary ;  and  above  all,  in  the  knowledge 
which  enabled  such  a  master-spirit  to 
choose  the  most  fitting  subordinate  imple- 
ments, to  attach  them  to  his  person,  and, 
by  explaining  to  them  so  much  of  his  plan 
as  it  was  necessary  each  should  execute, 
to  secure  the  exertion  c;' their  utmost  abil- 
ity in  carrying  it  into  effect. 

Thus,   not  only   were   his  manoEuvres, 


however  daring,  executed  with  a  precision 
which  warlike  operations  had  not  attained 
before  his  time ;  but  they  were  also  per- 
formed with  a  celerity  which  gave  them 
almost  always  the  effect  of  surprise.  Napo- 
leon was  like  lightning  in  the  eyes  of  his 
enemies ;  and  when  repeated  experience 
had  taught  them  to  expect  this  portentous 
rapidity  of  movement,  it  sometimes  induced 
his  opponents  to  wait,  in  a  dubious  and  hes- 
itating posture,  for  attacks,  which,  with  less 
apprehension  of  their  antagonist,  they 
would  have  thought  it  more  prudent  to  frus- 
trate and  to  anticipate. 

Great  sacrifices  were  necessary  to  enable 
the  French  troops  to  move  with  that  de- 
gree of  celerity  which  Buonaparte's  com- 
binations required.  He  made  no  allowance 
for  impediments  or  unexpected  obstacles  : 
the  time  which  he  had  calculated  for  exe- 
cution of  manoeuvres  prescribed,  was  on  no 
account  to  be  exceeded — every  sacrifice  was 
to  be  made  of  baggage,  stragglers,  even  ar- 
tillery, rather  than  the  column  should  arrive 
too  late  at  the  point  of  its  destination. 
Hence,  all  that  had  hitherto  been  consider- 
ed as  essential  not  only  to  the  health,  but 
to  the  very  existence  of  an  army,  was  in  a 
great  measure  dispensed  with  in  the  I'rench 
service  ;  and,  for  the  first  time,  troops  were 
seen  to  take  the  field  without  tents,  with- 
out camp-equipage,  without  magazines  of 
provisions,  without  military  hcpitals  ; — the 
soldiers  eating  as  they  could,  sleeping 
where  they  could,  dying  where  they  could ; 
but  still  advancing,  still  combating,  and 
still  victorious. 

It  is  true,  that  the  abandonment  of  every 
object,  save  success  in  the  field,  augment- 
ed frightfully  all  the  usual  liorrors  of  war. 
The  soldier,  with  arms  in  his  hands,  and 
wanting  bread,  became  a  marauder  in  self- 
defence  ;  and  in  supplying  his  wants  by 
rapine,  did  mischief  to  the  inhabitants  in 
a  degree  infinitely  beyond  the  benefit  he 
himself  received ;  for  i  may  be  said  of 
military  requisition,  as  truly  as  of  despot- 
ism, that  it  resembles  the  proceedings  of  a 
savage,  who  cuts  down  a  tree  to  come  at 
the  fruit.  Still,  though  purchased  at  a  high 
rate,  that  advantage  was  gained  by  this  rap- 
id system  of  tactics,  wliich  in  a  slower 
progress,  during  which  the  soldier  was  reg- 
ularly maintained,  and  kept  under  the  re- 
straint of  discipline,  might  have  been  ren- 
dered doubtful.  It  wasted  the  army  through 
disease,  fatigue,  .and  all  the  consequences 
of  want  and  tnil ;  but  still  the  victory  was 
attained,  and  that  was  enough  to  make  the 
survivors  forget  their  hardsliip;;,  and  to 
draw  forth  new  recruits  to  replace  the  fall- 
en. Patient  of  labours,  light  of  lieart  and 
temper,  and  elated  by  success  beyond  all 
painful  recollections,  the  French  soldiers 
were  the  very  men  calculated  to  execute 
this  desperate  species  of  service  under  a 
chief,  who,  "their  sagacity  soon  discovered, 
was  sure  to  Icid  to  victory  all  those,  whu 
could  sustain  the  hardships  by  which  it  waa 
to  be  won. 

The  character  of  the  mountainous  coun- 
tries, among  which  he  was  for  the  first  time 
to  exercise  his  system,  was  highly  favours- 


Chap.  XXI.-\ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


217 


ble  to  Buonaparte's  views.  Presenting  ma- 
ny lines  and  defensible  positions,  it  induced 
the  Austrian  generals  to  become  stationarj', 
andoccupv  a  considerable  extent  of  ground, 
according  to  their  old  system  of  tactics. 
But  though  abounding  in  such  positions  as 
might  at  first  sight  seem  absolutely  impreg- 
nable, and  were  too  often  trusted  to  as 
such,  the  mountains  also  exhibited  to  the 
sagacious  eye  of  a  great  Captain,  gorges, 
defiles,  and  difficult  and  unsuspected  points 
of  access,  by  which  he  could  turn  the  posi- 
tions that  appeared  in  front  so  formidable  ; 
and,  by  threatening  them  on  the  flank  and  on 
the  rear,  compel  the  enemy  to  a  battle  at 
disadvantage,  or  to  a  retreat  with  loss. 

The  forces  which  Buonaparte  had  under 
his  command,  were  between  fifty  and  sixty 
thousand  good  troops,  having,  many  of 
them,  been  brought  from  the  Spanish  cam- 
paign, in  consequence  of  the  peace  with 
that  country  ;  but  very  indifferently  provid- 
ed with  clothing,  and  suffering  from  the 
hardships  they  had  endured  in  those  moun- 
tainous, barren,  and  cold  regions.  The 
cavalry,  in  particular,  were  in  very  poor 
order  ;  but  the  nature  of  their  new  field  of 
action  not  admitting  of  their  being  much 
employed,  rendered  this  of  less  conse- 
quence. The  misery  of  the  French  army, 
until  these  Alpine  campaigns  were  victori- 
ously closed  by  the  armistice  of  Cberasco, 
could,  according  to  Buonaparte's  authority,* 
scarce  bear  description.  The  officers  for 
several  years  had  received  no  more  than 
eight  livres  a  month  (twenty-pence  sterling 
a  week)  in  name  of  pay,  and  staff-officers 
had  not  amongst  them  a  single  horse.  Ber- 
thier  preserved,  as  a  curiosity,  an  order, 
dated  on  the  day  of  the  victory  of  Albenga. 
which  munificently  conferred  a  gratuity  of 
three  Louis  d'ors  upon  every  general  of  di- 
vision.t  Among  the  generals  to  whom  this 
donation  was  rendered  acceptable  by  their 
wants,  were,  or  might  have  been,  many 
whose  names  became  afterwards  the  praise 
and  dread  of  war.  Augereau.  Massena, 
Serrurier,  Joubert,  Lasnes,  and  Murat,  all 
generals  of  the  first  consideration,  served 
under  Buonaparte  in  the  Italian  campaign. 

The  position  of  the  French  army  had  re- 
peatedly varied  since  October  1795,  after 
the  skirmish  at  Cairo.  At  that  time  the 
extreme  left  of  the  line,  whioh  extended 
from  south  to  north,  rested  upon  the  Col 
d' Argentine,  and  communicated  with  the 
higher  Alps — the  centre  was  on  the  Col  di 
Tende  and  Mont  Bertrand — the  left  occu- 
pied the  heights  of  Saint  Bertrand.  Saint 
Jacques,  and  other  ridges  running  in  the 
same  direction,  which  terminated  on  the 
Mediterranean  shore,  near  Finale. 


*  Memoires  Writes  k  St.  Helene,  sous  la  dictee 
de  I'Empereur,  vol.  ill.  p   151. 

t  This  piece  of  generosity  reminds  us  of  the  lib- 
erality of  the  kings  of  Brentford  to  their  Knights- 
bridge  forces — 

First  King.  Here,  take  five  guineas  to  these  war- 
like men. 
oecond  King.  And  here,  five  more,  which  makc^ 

the  sum  just  ten. 
Herald.    We  have  not  seen  so  much  the   Lord 
knows  when ! 
Vol.  I.  K 


The  .\ustrians,  strongly  reinforced,  at- 
tacked this  line,  and  carried  the  heights  of 
Mont  Saint  Jacques;  and  Kellermann,  after 
a  vain  attempt  to  regain  that  point  of  his 
position,  retreated  to  the  line  of  defence 
more  westward,  which  rests  on  Borghetto. 
Kellermann,  an  active  and  good  brigade 
officer,  but  without  sufficient  talent  to  act 
as  Commander-in-chief,  was  superseded, 
and  Scherer  was  placed  in  command  of  the 
Army  of  Italy.  He  risked  a  battle  with  the 
Austrians  near  Soano,  in  which  the  talents 
of  Massena  and  Augereau  were  conspicu- 
ous ;  and  by  the  victory  which  ensued,  the 
French  regained  the  line  of  Saint  Jacques 
and  Finale,  whiich  Kellermann  had  been 
forced  to  abandon ;  so  that,  in  a  general 
point  of  view,  the  relative  position  of  the 
two  opposed  armies  was  not  very  different 
from  that  in  which  they  had  been  left  by 
Buonaparte. 

But  though  Scherer  had  been  thus  far 
victorious,  he  was  not  the  person  to  whom 
the  Directory  desired  to  intrust  the  daring 
plan  of  assuming  the  offensive  on  a  grand 
scale  upon  the  Alpine  frontier,  and,  by  car- 
rying their  arms  into  Italy,  compelling  the 
Austrians  to  defend  themselves  in  that 
quarter,  and  to  diminish  the  gigantic  efforts 
which  that  power  had  hitherto  continued 
with  varied  success,  but  unabated  vigour, 
upon  the  Rhine.  The  rulers  of  France  had 
a  farther  object  in  this  bold  scheme.  They 
desired  to  intimidate,  or  annihilate  and  de- 
throne the  Pope.  He  was  odious  to  them 
as  Head  of  the  Church,  because  the  attach- 
ment of  the  French  clergy  to  the  Roman 
See,  and  the  points  of  conscience  which 
rested  upon  that  dependence,  had  occasion- 
ed the  recusancy  of  the  p/ieste,  especially 
of  those  who  were  most  esteemed  by  the 
people,  to  take  the  constitutional  oath.  To 
the  Pope,  and  his  claims  uf  supremacy, 
were  therefore  laid  the  charge  of  the  great 
civil  war  in  La  Vendee,  and  the  general 
disaffection  of  the  Catholics  in  the  south 
of  France. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  cause  of  the 
animosity  entertained  by  the  Directory 
against  the  Head  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
They  had,  three  years  before,  sustained  an 
actual  injury  from  the  See  of  Rome,  which 
was  yet  unavenged.  The  people  of  Rome 
were  extremely  provoked  that  the  French- 
residing  there,  and  particularly  the  young 
artists,  had  displayed  the  three-coloured 
cockade,  and  were  proposing  to  exhibit  the 
scutcheon  containing  the  emblems  of  the 
Republic  over  the  door  of  the  French  con- 
sul. The  Pope,  through  his  minister,  had 
intimated  his  desire  that  this  should  not  be 
attempted,  as  he  had  not  acknowledged  the 
Republic  as  a  legitimate  government.  The 
French,  however,  pursued  their  purpose  : 
and  the  consequence  was,  that  a  popular 
commotion  arose,  which  the  Papal  troops 
did  not  greatly  exert  themselves  to  sup- 
press. The  carriage  of  the  French  Envoy, 
or  Charge  des  Affaires,  n.amed  Basseville, 
was  attacked  in  the  streets,  and  chased 
home  ;  his  house  was  broken  into  by  the 
mob.  and  he  himself,  unarmed  and  unre- 
sisting,   v.as    cruelly   -jssaseinated.       The 


218 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON'  BUOiNAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXI. 


French  government  considered  this  very 
naturally  as  a  gross  insult,  and  were  the 
more  desirous  of  avenging  it,  that  by  doing 
so  tlicy  would  approach  nearer  to  the  digni- 
fied conductof  the  Roman  Fvepublic,  which, 
in  good  or  evil,  seems  always  to  have  been 
their  model.  The  affair  happened  in  1793, 
but  was  not  forgotten  in  1796. 

The  original  idea  entertained  by  the 
French  government  for  prosecuting  their 
resentment,  had  been  by  a  proposed  landing 
at  Civita  Vecchia  with  an  army  often  thou- 
sand men.  marching  to  Rome,  and  exacting 
from  the  Pontiff  complete  atonement  for 
the  murder  of  Basseville.  But  as  the 
English  fleet  rode  unopposed  in  the  Medi- 
terranean, it  became  a  matter  of  very  doubt- 
ful success  to  transport  such  a  body  of 
troops  to  Civita  Vecchia  by  sea,  not  to 
mention  the  chance  that,  even  if  safely 
landed,  they  would  have  found  themselves 
in  the  centre  of  Italy,  cut  off  from  supplies 
and  succours,  assaulted  on  all  hands,  and 
most  probably  blockaded  by  the  British 
fleet.  Buonaparte,  who  was  consulted,  rec- 
ommended that  the  north  of  Italy  should 
be  first  conquered,  in  order  that  Rome 
might  be  with  safety  approached  and  chas- 
tised 5  and  this  scheme,  though  in  appear- 
ance scarce  a  less  bold  measure,  was  a 
much  safer  one  than  the  Directory  had  at 
first  inclined  to,  since  Buonaparte  would 
only  approach  Rome  in  the  event  of  his  be- 
ing able  to  preserve  his  communications 
with  Lombardy  and  Tuscany,  which  he 
must  conquer  in  the  first  place. 

The  plan  of  crossing  the  Alps,  and  march- 
ing into  Italy,  suited  in  every  respect  the 
ambitious  and  self-confident  character  of 
the  General  to  whom  it  was  now  intrusted. 
It  gave  him  a  separate  and  independent  au- 
thority, and  the  power  of  acting  on  his  own 
judgment  and  responsibility  ;  for  his  coun- 
tryman Salicetti,  the  deputy  who  accompa- 
nied him  as  commissioner  of  the  govern- 
ment, was  not  probably  much  disposed  to 
intrude  his  opinions.  He  had  been  Buona- 
parte's patron,  and  was  still  his  friend.  The 
young  General's  mind  was  made  up  to  the 
alternative  of  conquest  or  ruin,  as  may  be 
judged  from  his  words  to  a  friend  at  taking 
leave  of  him.  "  In  three  months,"  he  said, 
"  I  will  be  either  at  Milan  or  at  Paris  ;"  in- 
timating at  once  his  desperate  resolution  to 
succeed,  and  his  sense  that  the  disappoint- 
ment of  all  his  prospects  must  be  the  con- 
sequence of  a  failure. 

With  the  same  view  of  animating  his  fol- 
lowers to  ambitious  hopes,  he  addressed 
the  Army  of  Italy  to  the  following  purpose  : 
— '•  Soldiers,  you  are  hungry  and  naked— 
The  Republic  owes  you  much,  but  she  has 
not  the  ineans  to  acquit  herself  of  her  debts. 
The  patience  with  which  you  support  your 
hardships  among  these  barren  rocks  is  ad- 
mirable, but  it  cannot  procure  you  glory. 
1  am  come  to  lead  you  into  the  most  fertile 
plains  that  the  sun  beholds— Rich  provinc- 
es, opulent  towns,  all  shall  be  at  your  dis- 
jjosal — SolAere,  with  such  a  prospect  be- 
fore you,  can  you  fail  in  courage  and  con- 
stancy ?"    This  was  ehowing  5ie  deer  to 


the  hound  when  the  leash  is  about  to  be 
slipped. 

The  Austro-Sardinian  army,  to  which 
Buonaparte  was  opposed,  was  commanded 
by  Beaulieu,  an  Austrian  general  of  great 
experience  and  some  talent,  but  no  lesi 
than  seventy -five  years  old  ;  accustomed  all 
his  life  to  the  ancient  rules  of  tactics,  and 
unlikely  to  suspect,  anticipate,  or  frustrate, 
those  plans,  formed  by  a  genius  so  fertile  aa 
that  of  Napoleon. 

Buonaparte's  plan  for  entering  Italy  dif- 
fered from  that  of  former  conquerors  and 
invaders,  who  had  approached  that  fine 
country  by  penetrating  or  surmounting  at 
some  point  or  other  her  Alpine  barriers. 
This  inventive  warrior  resolved  to  attain 
the  same  object,  by  turning  round  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Alpine  range, 
keeping  as  CiOee  as  possible  to  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean,  and  passing  through 
the  Genoese  territory  by  the  narrow  pass 
called  the  Boccheta,  leading  around  the 
extremity  of  the  mountains,  and  betwixt 
these  and  the  sea.  Thus  he  proposed  to 
penetrate  into  Italy  by  the  lowest  level 
which  the  surface  of  the  country  presented, 
which  must  be  of  course  where  the  range 
of  the  Alps  unites  with  that  of  the  Appe- 
nines.  The  point  of  junction  where  these 
two  immense  ranges  of  mountains  touch 
upon  each  other,  is  at  the  heights  of  Mount 
Saint  Jacques,  above  Genoa,  where  the 
Alps,  running  north-westward,  ascend  to 
Mont  Blanc,  their  highest  peak,  and  the 
Appenines,  running  to  the  south-east,  grad- 
ually elevate  themselves  to  Monte  Velino 
the  tallest  mountain  of  the  range. 

To  attain  his  object  of  turning  the  Alps 
in  the  manner  proposed,  it  was  necessary 
that  Buonaparte  should  totally  change  tho 
situation  ot  his  army ;  those  occupying  a 
defensive  line,  running  north  and  south,  be- 
ing to  assume  an  offensive  position,  extend- 
ing east  and  west.  Speaking  of  an  army  as 
of  a  battalion,  he  was  to  form  into  column 
upon  the  right  of  the  line  which  he  had 
hitherto  occupied.  This  was  an  extremely 
delicate  operation,  to  be  undertaken  in  pres- 
ence of  an  active  enemy,  his  superior  in 
numbers  ;  nor  was  he  permitted  to  execute 
it  uninterrupted. 

No  sooner  did  Beaulieu  learn  that  th« 
French  general  was  concentrating  his  forc- 
es, and  about  to  change  his  position,  than 
he  hastened  to  preserve  Genoa,  without 
possession  of  which,  or  at  least  of  the  adja- 
cent territory,  Buonaparte's  scheme  of  ad- 
vance could  scarce  have  been  accomplish- 
ed. The  Austrian  divided  his  army  into 
three  bodies.  Colli,  at  the  head  of  a  Sar- 
dinian division,  he  stationed  on  the  extreme 
right  at  Ceva;  his  centre  division,  under 
D'Argenteau,  having  its  head  at  Sasiello, 
had  directions  to  march  on  a  mountain  call- 
ed Monte  Notte,  with  two  villages  of  tlio 
same  name,  near  to  which  was  a  strong  po- 
sition at  a  place  called  Montelcgino,  which 
the  French  had  occupied  in  order  to  cover 
their  flank  during  their  march  towards  the 
east.  At  the  head  of  his  left  wing,  Bean- 
liea  himself  moved  from  Novi  upon  Voltri 


Chaf.  XXL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


21i) 


a  small  town  within  ten  miles  of  Genoa, 
for  the  protection  of  that  ancient  city, 
whose  independence  and  neutrality  were 
like  to  be  held  in  little  reverence.  Thus 
it  appears,  that  while  the  French  were  en- 
deavouring to  penetrate  into  Italy  by  an 
advance  from  Sardinia  by  the  way  of  Genoa, 
their  line  of  march  was  threatened  by  three 
armies  of  Austro-Sardinians,  descending 
from  the  skirts  of  the  Alps,  and  menacing 
to  attack  their  flank.  But,  though  a  skilful 
disposition,  Beaulieu's  had,  from  the  very 
mountainous  character  of  the  country,  the 
great  disadvantage  of  wanting  connexion 
between  the  three  separate  divisions  ;  nei- 
ther, if  needful,  could  they  be  easily  united 
on  any  point  desired,  while  the  lower  line, 
on  which  the  French  moved,  permitted 
constant  communication  and  co-operation. 

On  the  10th  of  April  1796,  D'A'genteau, 
with  the  central  division  of  the  Auslro- 
Sardinian  army,  descended  upon  Monte 
Notte,  while  Beaulieu  on  the  left  attacked 
the  Tan  of  the  French  array,  which  had 
come  as  far  as  \'oltri.  General  Cervoni, 
commanding  the  French  division  which 
sustained  the  attack  of  Beaulieu,  was  com- 
pelled to  fall  back  on  the  main  body  of  his 
countrymen ;  and  had  the  assault  of  D'Ar- 
genteau  been  equally  animated,  or  equal- 
.y  successful,  the  fame  of  Buonaparte  might 
•lave  been  stifled  in  the  birth.  But  Colo- 
nel Rampon,  a  French  oflicer,  who  com- 
manded the  redoubts  near  Montelegino, 
stopped  the  progress  of  D'Argenteau  by  the 
aiost  determined  resistance.  At  the  head  of 
iiot  more  than  fifteen  hundred  men,  whom 
'le  inspired  with  his  own  courage,  and 
^au3ed  to  swear  to  maintain  their  post  or 
die  there,  hr  continued  to  defend  the  re- 
doubts, during  the  whole  of  the  llth.  until 
D'Argenteau,  whose  conduct  was  after- 
wards greatly  blamed  for  not  making  more 
determined  efforts  to  carry  them,  drew  off 
his  forces  for  the  evening,  intending  to  re- 
new the  attack  next  morning. 

But  on  the  morning  of  the  I2th,  the  Aus- 
trian general  found  himself  surrounded  with 
enemies.  Cervoni,  who  retreated  before 
Beaulieu,  had  united  himself  with  La  Harpe, 
and  both  advancing  northward  during  the 
night  of  the  llth,  established  themselves  in 
the  rear  of  the  redoubts  of  Montelegino, 
which  Rainpon  had  so  gallantly  defended. 
This  was  not  all.  The  divisions  of  Ausre- 
reau  and  Massena  had  marched,  by  differ- 
ent routes,  on  the  flank  and  on  the  rear  of 
D'Argenteau's  column  ;  so  that  next  morn- 
ing, instead  of  renewing  his  attack  on  the 
redoubts,  the  .Austrian  general  was  obliged 
to  extricate  himself  by  a  disastrous  retreat, 
leaving  behind  him  colours  and  cannon,  a 
thousand  slain,  and  two  thousand  prisoners. 

Such  was  the  battle  of  Monte  Notte,  the 
first  of  Buonaparte's  victories  ;  eminently 
displaying  the  truth  and  mathematical  cer- 
tainty of  combination,  which  enabled  him 
on  many  more  memorable   occasions,  even  i 
when  his  forces  were  inferior  in  numbers,  I 
and  apparently  disunited  in  position,  sud-  j 
denly  to  concentrate  them  and  defeat  his  | 
enemy,  by   overpowering  him  on  the  very  ; 
point  where  he  thought  himself  strongest.  ' 


He  had  accumulated  a  superior  force  on 
the  Austrian  centre,  and  destroyed  it,  while 
Colli,  on  the  right,  and  Beaulieu  himself, 
on  the  left,  each  at  the  head  of  numerous 
forces,  did  not  even  hear  of  the  action  till 
it  was  fought  and  won. 

In  consequence  of  the  success  at  Monte 
Notte,  and  the  close  pursuit  of  the  defeat- 
ed Austrians,  the  French  obtained  posses- 
sion of  Cairo,  which  placed  them  on  that 
side  of  the  Alps  which  slopes  towards  Lom- 
bardy,  and  where  the  streams  from  these 
mountains  run  to  join  the  Po. 

Beaulieu,  had  advanced  to  Voltri,  while 
the  French  withdrew  to  unite  themselves 
in  the  attack  upon  D'Argenteau.  He  had 
now  to  retreat  northward  with  all  haste  to 
Dego,  in  the  valley  of  the  river  Borraida, 
in  order  to  resume  communication  with  the 
right  wing  of  his  army,  consisting  cliiefly 
of  Sardinians,  from  which  he  was  now 
nearly  separated  by  the  defeat  of  the  cen- 
tre. General  Colli,  by  a  corresponding 
movement  on  the  left,  occupied  Millesimo. 
a  small  town  about  nine  miles  from  Dego, 
with  which  he  resumed  and  maintained 
communication  by  a  brigade  stationed  on 
tlie  heights  of  Biastro.  From  the  strength 
of  this  position,  though  his  forces  were 
scarce  sutficiently  concentrated,  Beaulieu 
hoped  to  maintain  his  ground  till  he  should 
receive  supplies  from  Lombardy,  and  recov- 
er the  consequences  of  the  defeat  at  Mon- 
te Notte.  But  the  antagonist  whom  he 
had  in  front  had  no  purpose  of  permitting 
him  such  respite. 

Determined  upon  a  general  attack  on  al? 
points  of  the  Austrian  position,  the  French 
army  advanced  in  three  bodies  upon  a  space 
of  four  leagues  in  extent.  Augereau,  at 
the  head  of  the  division  which  had  not 
fought  at  Monte  Notte,  advanced  on  the 
left  against  Millesimo;  the  centre,  under 
Massena,  directed  themselves  upon  Dego, 
by  the  vale  of  the  Bormida;  the  right  wing, 
commanded  by  La  Harpe,  manoeuvred  on 
the  right  of  all,  for  the  purpose  of  turning 
Beaulieu's  left  flank.  Augereau  was  the 
first  who  came  in  contact  with  the  enemv. 
He  attacked  General  Colli  on  the  13th 
April.  His  troops,  emulous  of  the  honour 
acquired  by  their  companions,  behaved  with 
great  bravery,  rushed  upon  the  outposts  of 
the  Sardinian  army  at  Millesimo,  forced, 
and  retained  possession  of  the  gorge  bv 
which  it  was  defended,  and  thus  separated 
from  the  Sardinian  army  a  body  of  about 
two  thousand  men,  under  the  Austrian  Gen- 
eral Provera,  who  occupied  a  detached  em- 
inence called  Cossaria,  which  covered  the 
extreme  left  of  General  CoUi's  poei'.on. 
But  the  Austrian  showed  the  most  obsti- 
nate courage.  Although  surrounded  by  the 
enemy,  he  threw  himself  into  the  niinous 
castle  of  Cossaria,  which  crowned  the  emi 
nence.  and  showed  a  disposition  to  main- 
tain the  place  to  the  last  ;  the  rather  that, 
as  he  could  see  from  the  firrets  of  his 
stronghold  the  Sardinian  troo;.«,from  whom 
he  had  been  separated,  prep  tring  to  tight  on 
the  ensuing  day,  he  might  reMonably  hope 
to  be  disengaged. 

Buonaparte  in  person  came  up  }  and  see* 


2:^0 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


IChap.  XXJ 


iiig  tho  iieccBsity  of  dislodging  the  enemy 
Iroin  this  strong  post,  ordered  three  succes- 
sive attacks  to  be  made  on  the  castle.  Jou- 
bert,  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  attacking 
columns,  had  actually,  with  six  or  seven 
others,  made  his  way  into  the  outworks, 
when  he  was  struck  down  by  a  wound  in 
tlie  head.  General  Banal  and  Adjutant- 
general  Quenin  fell,  each  at  the  head  of  the 
column  which  he  commanded ;  and  Buona- 
parte was  compelled  to  leave  the  obstinate 
iPfovera  in  possession  of  the  castle  for  the 
night.  The  morning  of  the  14th  brought  a 
different  scene.  Contenting  himself  with 
blockading  the  castle  of  Cossaria,  Buona- 
parte now  gave  battle  to  Genera!  CoHi,  who 
made  every  effort  to  relieve  it.  These  at- 
tempts weie  all  in  vain.  He  was  defeated 
and  cut  off  from  Beaulieu ;  he  retired  as 
well  as  he  could  upon  Ceva,  leaving  to  his 
fate  the  brave  General  Provera,  who  was 
oompelled  to  surrender  at  discretion. 

On  the  same  day,  Massena,  with  the  cen- 
tre, attacked  the  heights  of  Biastro,  being 
the  point  of  communication  betwixt  Beau- 
lieu  and  Colli,  while  La  Harpe,  having 
crossed  the  Bormida,  where  the  stream 
came  up  to  the  soldiers'  middle,  attacked 
in  front  and  in  flank  the  village  of  Dego, 
where  the  Austrian  commander-in-chief  was 
stationed.  The  first  attack  was  completely 
successful, — the  heights  of  Biastro  were 
carried,  and  the  Piedmontese  routed.  The 
assault  of  Dego  was  not  less  so,  although 
after  a  harder  struggle.  Beaulieu  was  com- 
pelled to  retreat,  and  was  entirely  separat- 
ed from  the  Sardinians,  who  had  hitherto 
acted  in  combination  with  him.  The  de- 
fenders of  Italy  now  retreated  in  different 
directions,  Colli  moving  westward  towards 
Ceva,  while  Beaulieu,  closely  pursued 
through  a  difficult  country,  retired  upon 
D'Aqui. 

.Even  the  morning  after  the  victory,  it 
was  nearly  wrested  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
conquerors.  A  fresh  division  of  Austrians, 
who  had  evacuated  Voltri  later  than  the 
others,  and  were  approaching  to  form  a 
junction  with  their  general,  found  the  ene- 
my in  possession  of  Beaulieu's  position. 
They  arrived  at  Dego  like  men  who  had 
been  led  astray,  and  were  no  doubt  surpris- 
ed at  finding  it  in  the  hands  of  the  French. 
Yet  they  did  not  hesitate  to  assume  the  of- 
feijgive,  and  by  a  biisk  attack  drove  out  the 
enemy,  and  replaced  the  Austrian  eagles 
in  the  village.  Great  alarm  was  occasion- 
ed by  this  sudden  apparition  ;  for  no  one 
among  the  French  could  conceive  the 
meaning  of  an  alarm  beginning  on  the  op- 
posite quarter  to  that  on  which  the  enemy 
had  retreated,  and  without  its  being  an- 
nounced from  the  out-posts  towards  D'A- 
qui. 

Buonaparte  hastily  marched  on  the  vil- 
lage. The  Austrians  repelled  two  attacks  ; 
at  the  third.  General  Lanusse,  afterwards 
killed  in  Egypt,  put  his  hat  upon  the  point 
of  his  sword,  and  advancing  to  the  charge, 
penetrated  into  the  place.  Lannes  also, 
afterwards  Duke  of  Montebello,  distin- 
guished himself  on  the  same  occasion  by 
courage  ancl  military  skill,  and  was  recom- 


mended by  Buonaparte  to  the  Director/ 
for  promotion.  In  this  battle  of  Dcgri, 
more  commonly  called  of  JNIillesimo,  the 
-Vustro-.Sardinian  army  lost  five  or  six  thou- 
sand men,  thirty  pieces  of  cannon,  witli  r\ 
great  quantity  of  baggage.  Besides,  the 
.\ustrians  were  divided  from  the  Sardiiii 
aus  ;  and  the  two  generals  began  to  show, 
not  only  that  their  forces  were  disunited, 
but  that  they  themselves  were  acting  upon 
separate  motives ;  the  Sardinians  desiring 
to  protect  Turin,  whereas  the  movements 
of  Beaulieu  seemed  still  directed  to  pre- 
vent the  French  from  entering  the  Milanese 
territory. 

Leaving  a  sufficient  force  on  the  Bormi- 
da to  keep  in  check  Beaulieu,  Buonaparte 
now  turned  his  strength  against  Colli,  who, 
overpowered,  and  without  hopes  of  suc- 
cour, abandoned  his  line  of  defence  near 
Ceva,  and  retreated  to  the  line  of  the  Ta- 
naro. 

Napoleon  in  the  mean  time  fixed  his  head- 
quarters at  Ceva,  and  enjoyed  from  the 
heights  of  Montezemoto,  the  splendid  view 
of  the  fertile  fields  of  Piedmont  stretching 
in  boundless  perspective  beneath  his  feet, 
watered  by  the  Po,  the  Tanaro,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  streams  which  descended  from 
the  Alps.  Before  the  eyes  of  the  delighted 
army  of  victors  lay  this  rich  expanse  like  a 
promised  land;  behind  them  was  the  wil- 
derness they  had  passed ; — not  indeed  a 
desert  of  barren  sand,  similar  to  that  in 
which  the  Israelites  wandered,  but  a  huge 
tract  of  rocks  and  inaccessible  mountains, 
crested  with  ice  and  snow,  seeming  by  na- 
ture designed  as  the  barrier  and  rampart  of 
the  blessed  regions,  which  stretched  east- 
ward beneath  them.  We  can  sympathize 
with  the  self-congratulation  of  the  Gener- 
al who  had  surmounted  such  tremendous 
obstacles  in  a  way  so  unusual.  He  said  to 
the  officers  around  him,  as  they  gazed  upon 
this  magnificent  scene,  "Hannibal  took  the 
Alps  by  storm.  We  have  succeeded  as  well 
by  turning  their  flank." 

The  dispirited  army  of  Colli  was  attack- 
ed at  Mondovi  during  his  retreat,  by  two 
corps  of  Buonaparte's  army  from  two  differ- 
ent points,  commanded  by  Massena  and 
Serrurier.  The  last  general,  the  Sardinian 
repulsed  with  loss ;  but  when  he  found 
Massena,  in  the  meantime,  was  turning  the 
left  of  his  line,  and  that  he  was  thus  pressed 
on  both  flanks,  his  situation  became  almost 
desperate.  The  cavalry  of  the  Piedmon- 
tese made  an  effort  to  renew  the  combat. 
For  a  time  tliey  overpowered  and  drove  back 
those  of  the  French  ;  and  General  Stengel, 
who  commanded  the  latter,  was  slain  in  at- 
tempting to  get  them  into  order.  But  the 
desperate  valour  of  Murat,  unrivalled  per- 
haps in  the  heady  charge  of  cavalry  com- 
bat, renewed  the  fortune  of  the  field  ;  and 
the  horse,  as  well  as  the  infantry  of  CoUi's 
army,  were  compelled  to  a  disastrous  re- 
treat. The  defeat  was  decisive  ;  and  the 
Sardinians,  after  the  loss  of  the  best  of 
their  troops,  thoir  cannon,  baggage,  and  ap- 
pointments, and  beini;  now  totally  divided 
from  their  Austrian  allies,  and  liable  to  be 
overpowered  by  the  united  forces  of  tha 


Chap.  XXI.-\ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


221 


French  arinv.  had  no  longer  hopes  of  effect- 
iialiy  covering  Turin.  Buonaparte,  pur- 
suing his  victory,  took  possession  of  Che- 
rasco,  within  ten  leagues  of  the  Piedmon- 
tese  capital. 

Thus  Fortune,  in  the  course  of  a  cam- 
paign of  scarce  a  month,  placed  her  favour- 
ite in  full  possession  of  tlie  desired  road  to 
Italy,  by  command  of  tne  mountain-passes, 
which  had  been  invaded  and  conquered 
with  so  much  military  skill.  He  had  gained 
three  battles  over  forces  far  superior  to  his 
own  ;  inflicted  on  the  enemy  a  loss  of  t'.ven- 
ty-five  thousand  men  in  killed,  wounded,  and 
prisoners  5  taken  eighty  pieces  of  cannon, 
and  twenty-one  stand  of  colours  ;  reduced 
to  inaction  the  Austrian  army  ;  almost  an- 
nihilated that  of  Sardinia  ;  and  stood  in  full 
communication  with  France  upon  the  east- 
ern side  of  the  Alps,  with  Italy  lying  open 
before  him,  as  if  to  invite  his  invasion.  But 
it  was  not  even  with  such  laurels,  and  witli 
facilities  which  now  presented  themselves 
for  the  accomplishment  of  new  and  more 
important  victories  upon  a  larger  scale,  and 
with  more  magnificent  results,  that  the  ca- 
reer of  Buonaparte's  earliest  campaign  was 
to  be  closed.  The  head  of  the  royal  house 
of  Savoy,  if  not  one  of  the  most  powerful, 
still  one  of  the  most  distinguished  in  Eu- 
rope, was  to  have  the  melancholy  experi- 
ence, that  he  had  encountered  with  the  Man 
of  Destiny,  as  he  was  afterwards  proudly 
called,  who,  for  a  time,  had  power,  in  the 
emphatic  phrase  of  Scripture,  "  to  bind 
kings  with  chains,  and  nobles  with  fetters 
of  iron." 

The  shattered  relics  of  the  Sardinian  ar- 
my had  fallen  back,  or  rather  fled,  to  within 
two  leagues  of  Turin,  without  hope  of  be- 
ing again  able  to  make  an  effectual  stand. 
The  Sovereign  of  Sardinia,  Savoy,  and 
Piedmont,  had  no  means  of  preserving  his 
capital,  nay,  his  existence  on  the  continent, 
excepting  by  an  almost  total  submission  to 
the  will  of  the  victor.  Let  it  be  remem- 
bered, that  Victor  Araadeus  the  Third  was 
the  descendant  of  a  race  of  heroes,  who, 
from  the  peculiai"  situation  of  tlieir  territo- 
ries, as  constituting  a  neutral  ground  of 
great  strength  betwixt  France  and  the  Ital- 
ian possession:^  of  Austria,  had  often  been 
called  on  to  play  a  part  in  the  general  af- 
fairs of  Europe,  of  importance  far  superior 
to  that  which  their  condition  as  a  second- 
rate  power  could  otherwise  have  demand- 
ed. In  general,  they  had  compensated  their 
inferiority  of  force  by  an  ability  and  gallant- 
ry which  did  them  the  highest  credit,  both 
as  generals  and  as  politicians  ;  and  now 
Piedmont  was  at  the  feet,  in  her  turn,  of  an 
enemy  weaker  in  numbers  than  her  own. 
Besides  the  reflections  on  the  past  fame  of 
his  country,  the  present  humiliating  situa- 
tion of  the  King  was  rendered  more  morti- 
fying by  the  state  of  his  family  conne.tions. 
Victor  Amadeus  was  the  father-in-law  of 
Monsieur  (by  right  Louis  XVIII.,)  and  of 
the  Comte  d'Artois  (the  reigning  King  of 
France.)  He  had  received  his  sons-in-law 
at  his  court  at  Turin,  had  afforded  them  an 
(TOportunity  of  assembling  around  them 
their  forcee,  consisting  of  the  emigrant  no- 


blesse, and  had  strained  all  the   power  he 

;  possessed,  and  in  many  instances  success^ 

I  fully,  to  withstand  both  the  artifices  and  the 

arms  of  the  t'rencli  Republicans.  And  now, 

so  born,  so  connected,  and  with  such  prinei- 

I  pies,  he  was  condemned  to  sue  for  peace  on 

j  any  terms  which  might  be  dictated,  from 

I  a  General  of  France  aged  twenty-six  years, 

who,  a  few  months  before,  was  desirous  of 

an   appointment  in  the  artillery  service  of 

the  Grand  Seignor  ! 

An  armistice  was  requested  by  the  King 
of  Sardinia  under  these  afflicting  circum- 
stances, but  could  only  be  purchased  by 
placing  two  of  his  strongest  fortresses, — 
those  keys  of  the  Alps,  of  which  his  ances- 
tors had  long  been  the  keepers, — Coni  and 
Tortona,  in  the  hands  of  the  French,  and 
thus  acknowledging  that  he  surrendered  at 
discretion.  The  armistice  was  agreed  on  at 
Cherasko,  but  commissioners  were  sent  by 
the  King  to  Paris,  to  arrange  with  the  Di- 
rectory the  final  terms  of  peace.  These 
were  such  as  victors  give  to  the  vanquished. 
Besides  the  fortresses  already  surrender- 
ed, the  King  of  Sardinia  was  to  place  in  the 
hands  of  the  French  five  others  of  the  first 
importance.  The  road  from  France  to  Italy 
was  to  be  at  all  times  often  to  the  French 
armies  :  and  indeed  the  king,  by  surrender 
of  the  places  mentioned,  had  lost  the  pow- 
er of  interrupting  their  progress.  He  was 
to  break  off  every  species  of  alliance  and 
connexion  with  the  combined  powers  at  war 
with  France,  and  become  bound  not  to  en- 
tertain at  his  court,  or  in  his  service,  any 
French  emigrants  whatsoever,  or  any  of 
their  connexions ;  nor  was  an  exceptior 
even  made  in  favour  of  his  ow^n  two  daugb 
ters.  In  short,  the  surrender  was  absolu. 
Victor  Amadeus  exhibited  the  utmost  rr 
luctance  to  subscribe  t!iis  treaty,  and 
not  long  survive  it.  His  son  succeeded  in 
name  to  the  kingdom  of  Piedmont ;  but  the 
fortresses  and  passes  which  had  rendered 
him  a  prince  of  some  importance,  were,  ex- 
cepting Turin,  and  one  or  two  of  minor 
consequence,  all  surrendered  into  th',  hands 
of  the  French. 

Viewing  this  treaty  with  Sardinia  as  the 
close  of  the  Piedmontese  campaign,  we 
pause  to  consider  the  character  which 
Buonaparte  displayed  at  that  period.  The 
talents  as  a  general  which  he  had  exhibited, 
were  of  the  very  first  order.  There  was  no 
disconnexion  in  his  objects,  they  were  all 
attained  by  the  very  means  he  proposed, 
and  the  success  was  improved  to  the  ut- 
most. A  different  conduct  usually  char- 
acterizes those  who  stumble  unexpectedly 
on  victory,  either  by  good  fortunie  or  by  the 
valour  of  their  troops.  When  the  favoura- 
ble opportunity  occurs  to  such  leaders, 
they  are  nearly  as  much  embarrassed  by  it 
as  by  a  defeat.  But  Buonaparte  who  had 
foreseen  the  result  of  each  operation  by  his 
sagacity,  stood  also  prepared  to  make  the 
most  of  the  advantages  which  might  be  de- 
rived from  it. 

His  style  in  addressing  the  Convention 
was,  at  this  period,  more  modest  and  sim- 
ple, and  therefore  more  impressive,  than 
the  figurative  and  bombastic  style  which  bo 


222 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  xxn. 


afterwards  used  in  his  bulletins.  His  self- 
opinion,  perhaps,  was  not  risen  so  high  as 
to  permit  him  to  use  the  sesquipedalian 
words  ard  violent  metaphors,  to  which  he 
afterwaids  seems  to  have  given  a  prefer- 
ence. We  may  remark  also,  that  the  young 
victor  was  honourably  anxious  to  secure  for 
such  officers  as  distinguished  themselves, 
the  preferment  which  their  services  entitled 
them  to.  He  urges  the  promotion  of  his 
brethren  in  arms  in  almost  every  one  of  his 
despatches, — a  conduct  not  only  just  and 
generous,  but  also  highly  politic.  Were 
his  recommendations  successful,  their  Gen- 
eral had  the  gratitude  due  for  the  benefit ; 
were  they  overlooked,  thanks  equally  be- 
longed to  him  for  his  good  wishes,  and  the 
resentment  for  the  slight  attached  itself  to 
the  government,  who  did  not  give  effect  to 
them. 

If  Buonaparte  spoke  simply  and  modest- 
ly on  his  own  acnievements,  the  bombast 
which  he  spared  was  liberally  dealt  out  to 


the  Convention  by  an  orator  named  Dauber- 
mesnil,  who  invokes  all  bards,  from  Tyr- 
taeus  and  Ossian  down  to  the  author  of  the 
Marsellois  hymn — all  painters,  from  Apel- 
les  to  David — all  musicians,  from  Orpheus 
to  the  author  of  the  Chant  du  depart,  to 
sing,  paint,  and  compose  music,  upon  the 
achievements  of  the  General  and  Army  of 
Italy. 

With  better  taste,  a  medal  of  Buonaparte 
was  struck  in  the  character  of  the  Conquer- 
or of  the  battle  of  Monte  Notte.  The  face 
is  extremely  thin,  with  lank  hair,  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  fleshy  square  countenance 
exhibited  on  his  later  coins.  On  the  re- 
verse. Victory,  bearing  a  palm  branch,  a 
wreath  of  laurel,  and  a  naked  sword,  is  seen 
flying  over  the  Alps.  This  medal  we  no- 
tice as  the  first  of  the  splendid  series  which 
records  the  victories  and  honours  of  Napo- 
leon, and  which  was  designed  by  Denon  as 
a  tribute  to  the  genius  of  his  patron 


CHAP.  ZXZI. 

Further  progress  of  the  French  Army  under  Buonopiirte — He  crosses  the  Po,  at  Plaeen- 
za,  on  the  1th  May. — Battle  of  Lodi  takes  place  on  the  10th,  in  which  the  French  are 
victorious. — Remarks  on  Napoleon's  Tactics  in  this  celebrated  Action. — French  take 
possession  of  Cre.nona  and  Pizzighitone. — Milan  deserted  by  the  Archduke  Ferdi- 
nand and  his  Duchess. — Buonaparte  enters  Milan  on  the  \-ith  May — General  situa- 
tion of  the  Italian  States  at  this  period. — Xapoleon  inflicts  fines  upon  the  neutral  and 
■unoffending  Slates  of  Parma  and  Modena,  and  extorts  the  surrender  of  some  of  their 
finest  Pictures. — Remarks  upon  this  novel  procedure. 


The  ardent  disposition  of  Buonaparte  did 
not  long  permit  him  to  rest  after  the  advan- 
tages which  he  had  secured.  He  had  gaz- 
ed on  Italy  with  an  eagle's  eye  ;  but  it  was 
only  for  a  moment,  ere  stooping  on  her  with 
the  wing,  and  pouncing  on  her  with  the  tal- 
ons, of  the  king  of  birds. 

A  general  with  less  extraordinary  talent 
would  perhaps  have  thought  it  sufficient  to 
have  obtained  possession  of  Piedmont,  rev- 
olutionizing its  government  as  the  French 
had  done  that  of  Holland,  and  would  have 
awaited  fresh  supplies  and  reinforcements 
from  France  before  advancing  to  farther  and 
more  distant  conquests,  and  leaving  the 
Alps  under  the  dominion  of  a  hostile, 
though  for  the  present  a  subdued  and  dis- 
armed monarchy.  But  Buonaparte  had 
studied  the  campaign  of  Villars  in  these  re- 
gions, and  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  b}'  that 
feneral's  hesitation  to  advance  boldly  into 
taly,  after  the  victories  which  the  Mar- 
shal de  Coigni  had  obtained  at  Parma  and 
Guastalla,  that  the  enemy  had  been  enabled 
to  assemble  an  accumulating  force,  before 
which  the  French  were  compelled  to  re- 
treat. He  determined,  therefore,  to  give 
the  Republic  of  Venice,  the  Grand  Duke 
of  Tuscany,  and  other  States  in  Italy,  no 
time  to  muster  forces,  and  take  a  decided 
part,  as  they  were  likely  to  do,  to  oppose  a 
French  invasion.  Their  terror  and  sur- 
prise could  not  fail  to  be  increased  by  a 
sudden  irruption  ;  while  months,  weeks, 
even  days  of  consideration,  might  afford 
tljose  States,  attached  as  the  rulers  must  be 


to  their  ancient  oligarchical  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, time  and  composure  to  assume 
arms  to  maintain  them.  A  speedy  resolu- 
tion was  the  more  necessary,  as  Austria, 
alarmed  for  her  Italian  possessions,  waa 
about  to  make  every  effort  for  their  defence. 
Orders  had  already  been  sent  by  the  Aulic 
Council  of  War  to  detach  an  army  of  thirty 
thousand  men,  under  Wurmser,  from  the 
Army  of  the  Rhine  to  the  frontiers  of  Italy. 
These  were  to  be  strengthened  by  other  re- 
inforcements from  the  interior,  and  by  such 
forces  as  could  be  raised  in  the  mountain- 
ous district  of  the  Tyrol,  which  furnishes 
perhaps  the  most  experienced  and  most 
formidable  sharp-shooters  in  the  world.  The 
whole  was  to  be  united  to  the  fragments  of 
Beaulieu's  defeated  troops.  If  suffered  to 
form  a  junction,  and  arrange  their  plans  for 
attack  or  defence,  an  army,  of  force  so  su- 
perior to  the  French  in  numbers,  veterans 
in  discipline,  and  commanded  by  a  general 
like  Wurmser,  was  likely  to  prevent  all  the 
advantages  which  the  French  might  gain 
by  a  sudden  irruption,  ere  an  opposition  so 
formidable  was  collected  and  organized. 
But  the  daring  scheme  which  Napoleon 
contemplated,  correspoTiding  to  the  genius 
of  him  who  had  formed  it,  required  to  be 
executed  v.ith  caution,  united  with  secrecy 
and  celerity.  These  were  the  more  neces- 
sary, as,  although  the  thanks  of  the  French 
government  had  been  voted  to  the  Army  of 
Italy  five  times  in  the  course  of  a  month, 
yet  the  Directory,  alarmed  at  the  niore 
cloubtful  state  of  hostilities  upon  the  Rhine, 


Chap  XXIL] 


LIFE  OF  ^'APOLEO^i  BUONAPARTE. 


223 


had  turned  their  exertions  chiefly  in  that !  defended  by  a  formidable  enemy  in  front, 
direction  ;  and,  trusting  to  the  skill  of  their  i  Buonaparte's  subtle  genius  haQ  already 
General,  and  the  courage  of  his  troops,  had  prepared  the  means  for  deceiving  the  old 
not  transmitted  recruits  and  supplies  upon  !  Austrian  respecting  his  intended  opera- 
the  scale  necessary  for  the  great  undertak-  I  tions. 

ings  which  he  meditated.  But  Italiam — |  Valenza  appeared  to  be  the  point  of  pas- 
Ualiam  t* — the  idea  of  penetrating  into  a  '  sage  proposed  by  the  French  ;  it  is  one  of 
country  so  guarded  and  defended  by  na-  j  those  fortresses  which  cover  the  eastern 
ture,  as  well  as  by  military  skill,  the  con-  j  frontier  of  Piedmont,  and  is  situated  upon 
Bciousness  of  having  surmounted  obstacles  j  the  river  Po.  During  the  conferences  pro- 
of a  nature  so  extraordinary,  and  the  hope  '  vious  to  the  armistice  of  the  Cherasco, 
that  they  were  approaching  the  reward  of  |  Buonaparte  had  thrown  out  hints  as  if  he 
so  many  labours — ajove  all,  their  full  con-  i  were  particularly  desirous  to  be  possessed 
fidence  in  a  leader,  who  seemed  to  have  of  this  place,  and  it  was  actually  stipulated 
bound  Victory  to  his  standard — made  the  '  in  the  terms  of  the  treaty,  that  the  French 
BoldiersfoUow  their  general,  witliout  count-  I  should  occupy  it  for  the  purpose  of  eflect- 
ing  their  own  deficiencies,  or  the  enemy's  I  ing  their  passage  over  the  river.  Beauliea 
numbers.  '      |  did  not  fail  to  learn  what  had  passed,  which 

To  encourage  this  ardour,  Buonaparte  cir-  i  coinciding  with  his  own  ideas  of  the  rout 
culated  an  address,  in  which,  compliment-    by  which  Buonaparte  meant  to  advance  up- 


ing  the  army  on  the  victories  they  had  gain- 
ed, he  desired  them  at  the  same  time  to 
consider  nothing  as  won  so  long  as  the  Aus- 
trians  held  Milan,  and  while  the  ashes  of 
those  who  had  conquered  the  Tarquins  were 
Boiled  by  the  presence  of  the  assassins  of 
Basseville.  It  would  appear  that  classical 
allusions  are  either  familiar  to  the  French 
soldiers,  or  that,  without  being  motQ  learn- 
ed than  others  of  their  rank,  they  are  pleas- 
ed with  beingsupposed  to  understand  them. 
They  probably  considered  the  oratory  of 
their  great  leader  as  soldier-like  words,  and 
words  of  exceeding  good  command.  The 
English  soldier,  addressed  in  such  flights  of 
eloquence,  would  either  have  laughed  at 
them,  or  supposed  that  he  had  got  a  crazed 
play-actor  put  over  him,  instead  of  a  gene- 
ral. But  there  is  this  peculiar  trait  in  the 
French  character,  that  they  are  willing  to 
take  everything  of  a  complimentary  kind  in 


on  Milan,  he  hastened  to  concentrate  hia 
army  on  the  opposite  bank,  at  a  place  call- 
ed Valeggio,  about  eighteen  miles  from  Va- 
lenza, the  point  near  which  he  expected 
the  attempt  to  be  made,  and  from  which 
he  could  move  easily  in  any  direction  to- 
wards the  river,  before  the  French  could 
send  over  any  considerable  force.  Masae- 
na  also  countenanced  this  report,  and  rivet- 
ed the  attention  of  the  Austrians  on  \'^alen- 
za,  by  pushing  strong  reconnoitring  parties 
from  Alexandria  in  the  direction  of  that  for- 
tress. Besides,  Beaulieu  had  himself  cross- 
ed the  Po  at  this  place,  and,  like  all  men 
of  routine,  (for  such  he  was,  though  a  brave 
and  approved  soldier,)  he  was  always  apt 
to  suppose  that  the  same  reasons  which  di- 
rected himself,  must  needs  seem  equally 
convincing  to  others.  In  almost  all  deli- 
cate affairs,  persons  of  ordinary  talents  are 
misled  by  their  incapacity  to  comprehend, 


the  manner  in  which  it  seems  to  be  meant.  ]  'hat  men   of  another  disposition    will   be 


They  appear  to  have  made  that  bargain  with 
themselves  on  many  points,  which  the  au- 
dience usually  do  in  a  theatre, — to  accept 
of  the  appearance  of  things  for  the  reality. 
They  never  inquire  whether  a  triumphal 
arch  is  of  stone  or  of  wood ;  whether  a 
Bcutcheon  is  of  solid  metal,  or  only  gilt ; 
or  whether  a  speech,  of  which  the  tenden- 
cy is  flattering  to  their  national  vanity,  con 


likely  to  view  circumstances,  and  act  upon 
principles,  with  an  eye  and  opiiiio.1  very 
difi'erent  from  their  own. 

But  the  reports  which  induced  the  Aus- 
trian general  to  take  the  position  at  Valeg- 
gio, arose  out  of  a  stratagem  of  war.  It 
was  never  Buonaparte's  intention  to  cross 
the  Po  at  Valenza.  The  proposal  was  a 
feint  to  draw  Beaulieu's   attention  to  that 


tains  genuine  eloquence,  or  only  tumid  ex-  ;  point,  while  the  French  accomplished  the 
travagance.  j  desired  passage    at   Placenza,   nearly   fifty 

All  thoughts  were  therefore  turned  to  j  miles  lower  down  the  river  than  Valeggio, 
Italy.  The  fortress  of  Tortona  was  surren-  "'here  their  subtle  General  had  induced 
dered  to  the  French  by  the  King  of  Sar-  the  Austrians  to  take  up  their  line  of  de- 
dinia;  Buonaparte's  head-quarters  were  I  fence.  Marching  for  this  purpose  with  in- 
fixed there.  Massena  concentrated  another  1  credible  celerity,  Buonaparte,  on  the  7th 
part  of  the  army  at  Alexandria,  menacing  j  of  May,  assembled  his  forces  at  Placenza, 
Alilan  and  threatening,  by  the  passaje  of  when  their  presence  was  least  expected, 
the  Po,  to  invade  the  territories  belonging  and  where  there  were  none  to  defend  the 
to  Austria,  on  the  northern  bank  of  that  riv°  |  opposite  bank,  except  two  or  three  squad- 
er.  As  Buonaparte  himself  observed,  the  rons  of  Austrians,  stationed  there  merely 
passage  of  a  great  river  is  one  of  the  most  '  *'''■  the  purpose  of  reconnoitring.  General 
critical  operations  in  modem  war  j  and  ! -^idreossi  (for  names  distinguished  during 
Beaulieu  had  collected  his  forces  to  cover  j  these  dreadful  wars  begin  to  rise  on  the 
Milan,  and  prevent  the  French,  if  possible,  narrative,  as  the  stars  glimmer  out  on  the 
from  crossing  the  Po.  But,  in  order  to  ;  horizon)  commanded  an  advanced  guard  of 
avert  the  dangerous  consequences  of  at-  five  hundred  men.  They  had  to  pass  in 
tempting  to  force  his  passage  on  the  river,  '  the  common  ferry-boats,  and  the  crossing 
I  required  nearly  half  an  hour ;  so  that  the 

*  Italiam,  Italiam  !  primus  conclama  Achates  :  j  difficulty,  or  rather  impossibility,  of  achiev- 
Italiamsocii,  magno  clamore,  galutant.  I  ing  the  operation,  had  they  been  seriously 


224 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXU. 


opposed,  appears  to  demonstration.  Colo- 
nel Laiines  threw  himself  ashore  first  with  a 
body  of  grenadiers,  and  speedily  dispersed 
the  Austrian  hussars,  who  attempted  to  re- 
sist their  landing.  The  vanguard  having 
thus  opened  the  passage,  the  other  divis- 
ions of  the  array  were  enabled  to  cross 
in  succession,  and  in  the  course  of  two 
days  the  whole  were  in  tlie  Milanese  terri- 
tory, and  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Po.  The 
military  manoeuvres,  by  means  of  which 
Buonaparte  achieved,  without  the  loss  of 
a  man,  an  operation  of  so  much  conse- 
quence, and  which,  without  such  address 
as  he  displayed,  must  have  been  attended 
with  great  loss,  and  risk  of  failure,  have 
often  been  considered  as  among  his  most 
masterly  movements. 

Beaulieu,  informed  too  late  of  the  real 
plans  of  the  French  General,  moved  his  ad- 
vanced guard,  composed  of  the  division 
of  General  Liptay,  from  Valeggio  towards 
the  Po,  in  the  direction  of  Placenza.  But 
here  2l?o  the  alert  general  of  the  French 
had  been  too  rapid  in  his  movements  for 
tb<3  aged  German.  Buonaparte  had  no  inten- 
tion to  v.-ait  an  attack  from  the  enemy  with 
such  a  river  as  the  Po  in  his  rear,  which  he 
had  no  means  of  recrossing  if  the  day  should 
go  against  him;  so  that  a  defeat,  or  even  a 
material  check,  would  have  endangered  the 
total  loss  of  his  army.  He  was,  therefore, 
pushing  forward  in  order  to  gain  ground  on 
which  to  manoeuvre,  and  the  advanced  di- 
visions of  the  two  armies  met  at  a  village 
called  Fombio,  not  far  from  Casal,  on  the 
8th  of  May.  The  Austrians  threw  them- 
selves into  the  place,  fortified  and  manned 
the  steeples,  and  whatever  posts  else  could 
be  made  effectual  for  defence,  and  reckon- 
ed upon  defending  themselves  there  until 
the  main  body  of  Beaulieu's  army  should 
come  up  to  support  them.  But  they  were 
unable  to  sustain  the  vivacity  of  the  French 
onset,  to  which  so  many  successive  victo- 
ries had  now  given  a  double  impulse.  The 
village  was  carried  at  the  bayonet's  point ; 
the  Austrians  lost  their  cannon,  and  left  be- 
hind one  third  of  their  men,  in  slain, 
wounded,  and  prisoners.  The  wreck  of 
Liptay's  division  saved  themselves  by  cross- 
ing the  Adda  at  Pizzighitone,  while  they 
protected  their  retreat  by  a  hasty  defence 
of  that  fortress. 

Another  body  of  Austrians  having  advanc- 
ed from  Casal,  to  support,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed, the  division  of  Liptay,  occasioned 
a  great  loss  to  the  French  army  in  the  per- 
son of  a  very  promising  officer.  This  was 
General  La  Harpe,  highly  respected  and 
trusted  by  Buonaparte,  and  repeatedly  men- 
tioned in  the  campaigns  of  Piedmont. 
Hearing  the  alarm  given  by  the  outposts. 
■when  the  Austrian  patroles  came  in  con- 
tact with  them.  La  Harpe  rode  out  to  satis- 
fy himself  concerning  tlie  nature  and 
Btrength  of  the  attacking  party.  On  his 
-eturn  to  his  own  troops,  they  mistook  him 
and  his  attendants  for  the  enemy,  tired  up- 
on, and  killed  him.  He  was  "a  Swiss  by 
birth,  and  had  been  compelled  to  leave  liis 
country  on  account  of  his  democratical 
opinions  5  a  grenadier,  says  Buonaparte,  in 


stature  and  in  courage,  but  of  a  restless 
disposition.  The  soldiers,  with  the  super* 
stition  belonging  to  their  profession,  re- 
marked, that  during  the  battle  of  Fombio, 
on  the  day  before,  he  was  less  animated 
than  usual,  as  if  an  obscure  sense  of  his 
approaching  fate  already  overwhelmed  him. 

The  Austrian  regiment  of  cavalry  which 
occasioned  this  loss,  after  some  skirmish- 
ing, was  content  to  est  ape  to  Lodi,  a  point 
upon  which  Beaulieu  was  again  collecting 
his  scattered  forces,  for  the  purpose  of  cov- 
ering Milan,  by  protecting  the  line  of  the 
Adda. 

"  The  passage  of  the  Po,"  said  Buona- 
parte, in  his  report  to  the  Directory,  "  had 
been  expected  to  prove  the  most  bold  and 
difficult  manoeuvre  of  the  campaign,  nor 
did  we  e.xpect  to  have  an  action  of  more 
vivacity  than  that  of  Dego.  But  we  have 
now  to  recount  the  battle  of  Lodi."  As 
the  conqueror  deservedly  congratulated 
himself  on  this  hard-won  victory,  and  as  it 
has  become  in  a  manner  especially  con- 
nected with  his  name  and  military  charac- 
ter, we  must,  according  to  our  plan,  be 
somewhat  minute  in  our  details  respect- 
ing it. 

The  Adda,  a  large  and  deep  river,  though 
fordable  at  some  places  and  in  some  sea- 
sons, crosses  the  valley  of  the  Milanese, 
rising  and  joining  the  Po  at  Pizzighitone; 
so  that,  if  the  few  places  at  which  it  can  bo 
crossed  arc  fortified  or  defended,  it  forms  a 
line  covering  all  the  Milanese  territory  to 
the  eastward,  from  any  force  approaching 
from  the  direction  of  Piedmont.  This  line 
Beaulieu  proposed  to  make  good  against 
the  victor  before  whom  he  had  so  often  re- 
treated, and  he  conjectured  (on  this  occa- 
sion rightly)  that,  to  prosecute  his  victory 
by  marching  upon  Milan,  Buonaparte  would 
first  desire  to  dislodge  the  covering  army 
from  the  line  of  Adda,  as  he  could  not  saie- 
ly  advance  to  the  capital  of  Lombardy, 
leaving  the  enemy  in  possession  of  such  3 
defensive  line  upon  their  flank.  He  z\ao 
conjectured  that  this  attempt  would  be 
made  at  Lodi. 

This  is  a  large  town,  containing  twelve 
thousand  inhabitants.  It  has  old  Gothic 
walls  but  its  chief  defence  consists  in  the 
river  Adda,  which  flows  through  it,  and 
is  crossed  by  a  wooden  bridge  about  five 
hundred  feet  in  length.  When  Beaulieu, 
after  the  affair  of  Fombio,  evacuated  Casal, 
he  retreated  to  this  place  with  about  ten 
thousand  men.  The  rest  of  his  army  was 
directed  upon  Milan  and  Cassano,  a  town 
situated,  like  Lodi,  upon  the  Adda. 

Buonaparte  calculated  that,  if  he  could 
accomplish  the  passage  of  the  Adda  at  Lo- 
di, he  might  overtake  and  disperse  the  re- 
ni:'inder  of  Beaulieu's  army,  without  allow. 
iiiir  the  veteran  time  to  concentrate  them 
for  farther  resistance  in  Milan,  or  even  for 
rallying  under  the  walls  of  the  strong  for- 
tress of  Mantu;v.  The  judgment  of  the 
French  General  was  in  war  not  more  re- 
markable for  seizing  the  most  advantageous 
moment  of  attack,  than  for  availing  himself 
to  the  very  uttermost  of  victory  when  ob- 
tained.  The  quick-sighted  faculty  and  pow  ^ 


Chap.  XXII.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


225 


er  of  instant  decision  with  which  nature 
had  endowed  him,  had,  it  may  be  supposed, 
provided  beforehand  for  the  consequences 
of  the  victory  ere  it  was  yet  won,  and  left 
no  room  for  doubt  or  hesitation  when  his 
hopes  had  become  certainties.  We  have 
already  remarked,  that  there  have  been 
many  commanders,  who,  after  an  acciden- 
tal victory,  are  so  much  at  a  loss  what  is 
next  to  be  done,  that  while  they  are  hesi- 
tating, the  golden  moments  pass  away  un- 
improved j  but  Buonaparte  knew  as  well 
how  to  use,  as  how  to  obtain  advantages. 

Upon  the  10th  day  of  May,  attended  by 
his  best  generals,  and  heading  the  choicest 
of  his  troops.  Napoleon  pressed  forward 
towards  Lodi.  About  a  league  from  Casal, 
he  encountered  the  Austrian  rear-guard,  who 
had  been  left,  it  would  appear,  at  too  great 
a  distance  from  their  main  body.  The 
French  had  no  difficulty  in  driving  these 
troops  before  them  into  the  town  of  Lodi, 
which  was  but  slightly  defended  by  the 
few  soldiers  whom  Beaulieu  had  left  on  the 
western  or  right  side  of  the  Adda.  He  had 
also  neglected  to  destroy  the  bridge,  al- 
though he  ought  rather  to  have  supported  a 
defence  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  (for 
which  the  town  afforded  many  facilities,) 
till   the   purpose  of  destruction  was   com- 

Eleted,  than  have  allowed  it  to  exist.  If 
is  rear-guard  had  been  actually  stationed 
in  Lodi,  instead  of  being  so  far  in  the  rear 
of  the  main  body,  tliey  might,  by  a  protract- 
ed resistance  from  the  old  walls  and  lious- 
es,  have  given  time  foi  this  necessary  act 
of  demolition. 

But  though  the  bridge  was  left  standing, 
it  was  swept  by  twenty  or  thirty  Austrian 
pieces  of  artillery,  whose  thunders  menaced 
death  to  any  who  should  attempt  that  pass 
of  peril.  The  French,  with  great  alertness, 
got  as  many  guns  in  position  on  the  left 
bank,  and  answered  this  tremendous  fire 
with  equal  spirit.  During  this  cannon- 
ade, Buonaparte  threw  himself  personally 
amongst  the  fire,  in  order  to  station  two 
guns  loaded  with  grape-shot  in  such  a  po- 
sition, as  rendered  it  impossible  for  any  one 
to  approach  for  the  purpose  of  undermining 
or  destroying  the  bridge  ;  and  then  calmly 
proceeded  to  make  arrangements  for  a  des- 
perate attempt. 

H>s  cavalry  was  directed  to  cross,  if  pos- 
sible, at  a  [ilace  where  the  Adda  was  said  to 
be  fordabJe, — a  task  which  they  accom- 
plished with  difficulty.  Meantime  Napo- 
leon observed  that  the  Austrian  line  of  in- 
fantry was  thrown  considerably  behind  the 
batteries  of  artillery  which  they  supported, 
in  order  that  they  might  have  the  advantage 
of  a  bending  slope  of  ground,  which  afford- 
ed them  shelter  from  the  French  fire.  He, 
tlierefore.  drew  up  a  close  column  of  three 
thousand  gremdiers,  protected  from  tlie 
artillery  of  the  Austrians  by  the  walla  and 
houses  of  the  town,  and  yet  considerably 
nearer  to  the  enemy's  line  of  guns  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  Adda  than  were  their 
own  infantrj',  which  ought  to  Have  protect- 
ed them.  The  column  of  grenadiers,  thus 
•ecured,  waited  in  comparative  safety,  until 
toe  appearance  of  the  French  cavalry,  who 
Vol.  i  K* 


had  crossed  tlie  ford,  began  to  disquiet  the 
flank  of  the  Austrians.  This  was  the  crit- 
ical moment  which  Buonaparte  expected. 
A  single  word  of  command  wheeled  the 
head  of  the  column  of  grenadiers  to  the 
left,  and  placed  it  on  tlie  perilous  bridge. 
The  word  was  given  to  advance,  and  they 
rushed  on  with  loud  sliouts  of  Vive  la  Re- 
pnblique  !  But  their  appearance  upon  the 
bridge  was  the  signal  for  a  redoubled  show- 
er of  grape-shot,  while,  from  the  windows 
of  the  houses  on  the  left  side  of  the  river, 
the  soldiers  who  occupied  them  poured 
volley  after  volley  of  musketry  on  the  thick 
column,  as  it  endeavoured  to  force  its  way 
over  the  long  bridge.  At  one  time  the 
French  grenadiers,  unable  to  sustain  this 
dreadful  storm,  appeared  for  an  instant  to 
hesitate.  But  Berthier,  the  chief  of  Buon- 
aparte's staff,  with  Massena,  L'Allemagne, 
and  Corvini,  hurried  to  the  head  of  the  col- 
umn, and  by  their  presence  and  gallantry 
renewed  the  resolution  of  the  soldiers,  who 
now  poured  across  the  bridge.  The  Aus- 
trians had  but  one  resource  left;  to  rush  on 
the  French  with  the  bayonet,  and  kill,  or 
drive  back  into  the  Adda,  those  who  had 
forced  their  passage,  before  they  could  de- 
ploy into  line,  or  receive  support  from 
their  comrades,  who  were  still  filing  along 
the  bridge.  But  the  opportunity  was  neg- 
lected, either  because  the  troops,  who 
should  have  executed  the  manoeuvre,  had 
beon,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  with- 
drawn too  far  from  the  river;  or  because 
the  soldiery,  as  happens  when  they  repose 
too  niuch  confidence  in  a  strong  position, 
became  panic-struck  when  they  saw  it  un- 
expectedly carried.  Or  it  may  be,  that 
General  Beaulieu,  so  old  and  so  unfortu- 
nate, had  somewhat  lost  that  energy  and 
presence  of  mind  w-hich  the  critical  mo- 
ment demanded.  Whatever  was  the  cause, 
the  French  rushed  on  the  artillerymen,  from 
whose  tire  they  had  lately  suffered  so  tre- 
mendously, and,  unsupported  as  they  were,^ 
had  little  difficulty  in  bayoneting  them. 

The  Austrian  army  now  completely  gave 
way,  and  lost  in  their  retreat,  annoyed  as  it 
was  by  the  French  cavalry,  upwards  of 
twenty  guns,  a  thousand  prisoners,  and  per- 
haps two  thousand  more  wounded  and  slai;;. 

Such  was  the  famous  passage  of  the 
Bridge  of  Lodi ;  achieved  with  such  skill 
and  gallantry,  as  gave  the  victor  the  same 
character  for  fearless  intrepidity,  and  prac- 
tical talent  in  actual  battle,  which  the  for- 
mer part  of  the  campaign  had  gained  him 
as  a  most  able  tactician. 

Yet  this  action,  though  successful,  has 
been  severely  criticised  by  those  who  de- 
sire to  derogate  from  Buonnparte's  miJitiry 
talents.  It  has  been  said,  that  he  might 
have  passed  over  a  body  of  infantry  at  tlie 
same  ford  where  the  cavalry  had  crossed ; 
and  that  thus,  by  manoeuvring  on  botli  hides 
of  the  river,  he  might  have  compelled  tlw 
Austrians  to  evacuate  their  position  on  tiic 
left  banjj  of  the  Adda,  without  hazardiriL-  ;>n 
attack  upon  their  front,  which  could  rn^t 
but  cost  the  assailants  very  dearly. 

Buonaparte  Lad  perhaps  this  objection  in 
his  recollection   when  he  states,  that  the 


226 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


column  of  grenadiers  were  so  judiciously 
sheltered  from  the  fire  until  the  moment 
when  their  wheel  to  the  left  brought  them 
on  the  bridge,  that  they  only  lost  two  hun- 
dred men  during  the  storm  of  the  passage. 
We  cannot  but  suppose,  that  this  is  a  very 
mitigated  account  of  the  actual  loss  of  the 
French  army.  So  slight  a  loss  is  not  to  be 
easily  reconciled  with  the  horrors  of  the 
battle,  as  he  himself  detailed  them  in  his 
despatches ;  nor  with  the  conclusion,  in 
which  he  mentions,  that  of  the  sharp  con- 
tests which  the  Army  of  Italy  had  to  sus- 
tain during  the  campaign,  none  was  to  be 
compared  with  that  "  terrible  passage  of 
the  Bridge  of  Lodi." 

In  fact,  as  we  may  take  occasion  to  prove 
hereafter,  the  Memoranda  of  the  great  Gen- 
eral, dictated  to  his  officers  at  Saint  Hele- 
na, have  a  little  too  much  the  character  of 
his  original  bulletins  5  and,  while  they  show 
a  considerable  disposition  to  exaggerate  the 
difficulties  to  be  overcome,  the  fury  of  the 
conflict,  and  the  exertions  of  courage  by 
which  the  victory  was  attained,  show  a  nat- 
ural inconsistency,  from  the  obvious  wish 
to  diminish  the  loss  which  was  its  unavoid- 
able price. 

But  admitting  that  the  loss  of  the  French, 
had  been  greater  on  this  occasion  than  their 
General  cared  to  recollect  or  acknowledge, 
his  military  conduct  seems  not  the  less  jus- 
tifiable. 

Buonaparte  appears  to  have  had  two  ob- 
jects in  view  in  this  daring  exploit.  The 
first  was,  to  improve  and  increase  the  terror 
into  which  his  previous  successes  had 
thrown  the  Austrians,  and  to  impress  on 
them  the  conviction,  that  no  position,  how- 
ever strong,  was  able  to  protect  them 
against  the  audacity  and  talent  of  the 
French.  This  discouraging  feeling,  exem- 
plified by  so  many  defeats,  and  now  by  one 
in  circumstances  where  the  Austrians  ap- 
peared to  have  every  advantage,  it  was  nat- 
ural to  suppose,  would  hurry  Beaulieu's 
retreat,  induce  him  to  renounce  all  subse- 
quent attempts  to  cover  Milan,  and  rather 
to  reunite  the  fragments  of  his  army,  par- 
ticularly that  part  of  Liptay's  division, 
which,  after  being  defeated  at  Fombio,  had 
thrown  themselves  into  Pizzighitonc.  To 
have  manojuvrcd  slowly  and  cautiously, 
would  not  have  struck  that  terror  and  con- 
fusion which  was  inspired  by  the  dosperaie 
attack  on  the  position  at  Lodi.  In  thin 
point  the  victor  perfectly  succeeded  ;  Cm 
Beaulieu,  after  his  misadventure,  drow  off 
without  any  farther  attempt  to  protect  tlie 
ancient  capital  of  Lomhardy,  and  thre.v 
himself  upon  Mantun,  with  the  intention 
of  csvering  tlwt  strong  fortress,  and  at  the 
same  time  of  sheltering  under  it  tfio  re-  j 
mains  of  his  army,  until  he  r-ould  form  a  j 
jtmction  with  the  forces  which  Wur.nsor  j 
was  briitging  to  his  assistance  from  the 
Rhina 

Buonaparte  himself  hw  pointed  out  a 
second  object,  in  wliirh  ho  w.i.s  less  euc- 
C€68''ul.  Ho  had  hoped  the  raprd  si'rprite 
of  the  Bridn;e  of  Lodi  might  enable  hiin  to 
overtake  or  intercept  the  rest  of  Beaulieu's 
•rmr,  which,  as  we  have  said,  had  retrcitod 


[Chap.  *KXII.  ' 

by  Cassano.  He  failed,  indeed,  in  this  ob- 
ject 5  for  these  forces  also  made  their  way 
into  the  Mantuan  territory,  and  joined 
Beaulieu,  who,  by  crossing  the  classical 
Mincio,  placed  another  strong  line  of  mili- 
tary defence  betwixt  him  and  his  victor. 
But  the  prospect  of  intercepting  and  de- 
stroying so  large  a  force,  was  worth  the 
risk  he  encountered  at  Lodi,  especially  tak 
ing  into  view  the  spirit  which  his  army  had 
acquired  from  a  long  train  of  victory,  to- 
gether with  the  discouragement  which  had 
crept  into  the  Austrian  ranks  from  a  uniform 
series  of  defeats. 

It  should  also  be  remembered,  in  consid- 
eringthe  necessity  of  forcing  the  bridge  of 
Lodi,  that  the  ford  over  the  Adda  was  crosB' 
ed  with  difficulty  even  by  the  cavalry,  and 
that  when  once  separated  by  tlie  river,  the 
communication  between  the  main  army  and 
the  deiachment  of  infantry,  (which  his  cen- 
sors say  Napoleon  should  have  sent  across 
in  the  same  manner, )  being  in  a  great  degree 
interrupted,  the  latter  might  have  been  ex- 
posed to  losses,  from  which  Buonaparte, 
situated  as  he  was  on  the  right  bank,  could 
have  had  no  means  of  protecting  them. 

liCaving  the  discussion  of  what  might 
have  been,  to  trace  that  which  actually  took 
place,  the  French  cavalry  pursued  the  re- 
treating Austrians  as  far  as  Cremona,  of 
which  they  took  possession.  Pizzighitone 
was  obliged  to  capitulate,  the  garrison  being 
cut  off  from  all  possibility  of  succour. 
About  five  hundred  prisoners  surrendered 
in  that  fortress  ;  the  rest  of  Liptay's  divis- 
ion, and  other  Austrian  corps,  could  no 
otherwise  escape,  than  by  throwing  them- 
selves into  the  Venetian  territory. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Buonaparte  had 
some  conversation  with  an  old  Hungarian 
officer  made  prisoner  in  one  of  the  actions, 
whom  he  met  with  at  a  bivouac  by  chance 
and  who  did  not  know  him.  The  veteran'^ 
language  was  a  curious  commentary  on  the 
whole  campaign ;  nay,  upon  Buonaparte's 
general  system  of  warfare,  which  appeared 
so  extraordinary  to  those  who  had  so  long 
practised  the  art  on  more  formal  principles. 
"  Things  are  going  on  as  ill  and  irregularly 
as  possible,"  said  the  old  martinet.  "  The 
French  have  got  a  young  general,  who 
knows  nothing  of  the  regular  rules  of  war  ; 
he  is  sometimes  on  our  front,  sometimes 
on  the  flank,  sometimes  on  the  rear.  There 
is  no  supporting  such  a  gross  violation  of 
rules."  This  somewhat  resembles  the 
charge  which  foreign  tacticians  have  brought 
a<^ainst  the  KngliKh,  that  they  gained  victo- 
ries by  continuing,  wit'.i  their  insular  igno- 
r  ince  and  obstinacy,  to  fight  on.  long  after 
the  period  when,  if  they  had  known  the 
rules  of  war,  they  ought  to  have  considered 
themselves  as  completely  defeated. 

A  peculiar  circumstance  is  worth  men- 
tioning. The  French  soldiers  had  a  mods 
at  that  time  of  amusing  thomselves,  by  con- 
ferrinjj  an  imaginary  rank  upon  their  gener- 
als, when  they  had  done  some  remarkable 
exploit,  yhey  showed  their  sense  of  the 
bravery  displayed  V>y  Buonaparte  at  the  Bat- 
tle of  Lodi,  by  creating  him  a  corporal-,  and 
by  this  ohrase,  of  Uie  Little  Corporal,  be 


Chap.  XXII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


227 


was  distinguished  in  the  intrigues  formed 
against  him,  as  well  as  those  which  were 
carried  on  in  his  favour  5  in  the  language 
of  George  Cadoudal,  who  laid  a  scheme  lor 
assassinating  him,  and  in  the  secret  consul- 
Ulion  of  the  old  soldiers  and  others,  who 
arranged  his  return  from  Elba. 

We  are  now  to  turn  for  a  lime  from  war 
to  its  consequences,  which  possess  an  inter- 
est of  a  nature  different  from  the  military 
events  we  ha"e  been  detailing.  The  move- 
ments which  had  taken  place  since  the 
King  of  Sardinia's  defeat,  had  struck  terror 
into  the  government  of  Milan,  and  the 
Archduke  Ferdinand,  by  whom  Austrian 
Lombardy  was  governed.  But  while  Beau- 
lieu  did  his  best  to  cover  the  capital  by 
force  of  arms,  the  measures  resorted  to  by 
the  government  were  rather  of  a  devotion- 
al than  warlike  character.  Processions 
were  made,  relics  exposed,  and  rites  re- 
sorted to,  which  the  Catholic  religion  pre- 
scribes as  an  appeal  to  Heaven  in  great  na- 
tional calamities.  But  the  saints  they  in- 
voked were  deaf  or  impotent ;  for  the  pas- 
sage of  the  bridge  of  Lodi,  and  Beaulieu's 
subsequent  retreat  to  Mantua,  left  no  possi- 
bility of  defending  Milan.  Tlie  Archduke 
and  his  Duchess  immediately  left  Milan, 
followed  by  a  small  retinue,  and  leaving 
only  a  moderate  force  in  the  citadel,  which 
was  not  in  a  very  defensible  condition. 
Their  carriages  passed  through  a  large 
crowd  which  filled  the  streets.  As  tliey 
moved  slowly  along,  the  royal  pair  were 
observed  to  shed  natural  tears,  at  leaving 
the  capital  of  these  princely  possessions  of 
their  house.  The  people  observed  a  pro- 
found silence,  only  broken  by  low  whispers. 
They  showed  neither  joy  nor  sorrow  at  the 
event  which  was  passing — all  thoughts  were 
bent  in  anxious  anticipation  upon  what  was 
to  happen  next. 

When  the  Archduke  had  departed,  the 
restraint  which  his  presence  had  imposed 
from  habit  and  sentiment,  as  much  as  from 
fear  of  his  authority ,  was  of  course  removed, 
and  manv  of  the  Milanese  citizens  began, 
with  real  or  affected  zeal  for  republicanism, 
to  prepare  themselves  for  the  reception  of 
Uie  French.  The  three-coloured  cockade 
was  at  first  timidly  assumed  ;  but  the  ex- 
ample being  shown,  it  seemed  as  if  these 
emblems  had  fallen  like  snow  into  the  caps 
and  hate  of  the  multitude.  The  imjjerial 
arms  were  removed  from  the  public  build- 
ings, and  a  placard  was  put  on  the  palace  of 
the  government  v/itli  an  inscription — "  This 
house  is  to  be  let — apply  for  tlie  keys  to 
the  French  Commissioner  Salicelii."'  The 
nobles  hastened  to  lay  aside  tlieir  armorial 
bearings,  their  servants'  liveries,  and  other 
badges  of  aristocracy.  Meantime  the  ma- 
gistrates caused  order  to  be  maintained  in 
the  town,  by  regular  patroles  of  the  burgher 
guard.  A  deputation  of  the  principal  in- 
nahitants  of  Milan  was  sent  to  the  victori- 
ous Gsneral  wilii  offers  of  full  submission, 
since  there  was  no  longer  room  for  resist- 
ance, or  for  standing  upon  terms. 

On  the  14th  of  May.  Buonaparte  made 
ibis  public  entry  into  Milan,  under  a  trium- 
phal arch  prepared  for  the  occasion,  which 


he  traversed,  surrounded  by  his  guards,  and 
took  up  his  residence  in  the  arch-episcopal 
palace.  The  same  evening  a  splendid  en- 
tertainment was  given,  and  the  Tree  of 
Liberty,  (of  which  the  aristocrats  observed, 
that  it  was  a  bare  pole  without  either  leaves 
or  fruit,  roots  or  branches,)  was  erected  with 
great  form  in  the  principal  square.  All  this 
aftectation  of  popular  joy  did  not  disarm  the 
purpose  of  the  French  General,  to  make  Mi- 
lan contribute  to  the  relief  of  his  army.  He 
imposed  upon  the  place  a  requisition  of 
twenty  millions  of  livres,  but  offered  to  ac- 
cept of  goods  of  any  sort  in  kind,  and  at  a 
rateable  valuation  5  for  it  may  be  easily  sup- 
posed that  specie,  the  representative  of  val- 
ue, must  be  scarce  in  a  city  circumstanced 
as  Milan  was.  The  public  funds  of  every 
description,  even  those  dedicated  to  the 
support  of  hospitals,  went  into  the  French 
military  chest ;  the  church-plate  was  seized 
as  part  of  the  requisition  ;  and,  when  all 
this  was  done,  the  citizens  were  burthened 
witli  the  charge  of  finding  rations  for  fif- 
teen thousand  men  daily,  by  which  force 
the  citadel,  with  its  Austrian  garrison,  was 
instantly  to  be  blockaded. 

While  Lombardy  suffered  much,  the 
neighbouring  countries  were  not  spared. 
The  reader  must  be  aware,  that  for  more 
than  a  century  Italy  had  been  silently  de- 
clining into  that  state  of  inactivity  which 
succeeds  great  exertion,  as  a  rapid  and  fu- 
rious blaze  sinks  down  into  exhaustion  and 
ashes.  The  keen  judgment  of  Napoleon 
had  seen,  that  the  geographical  shape  oflt- 
aly,  though  presenting  in  many  respects 
advantages  for  a  great  and  commercial  na- 
tion, offered  this  main  impediment  to  its 
separate  existence  as  one  independent  state, 
that  its  length  being  too  great  in  proportion 
to  its  breadth,  there  was  no  point  sufficient- 
ly central  to  preserve  the  due  influence  of 
a  metropolis  in  relation  to  its  extreme 
northern  and  southern  provinces  ;  and  that 
the  inhabitants  of  Naples  and  Lombardy 
being  locally  so  far  divided,  and  differing  in 
climate,  habits,  and  the  variety  of  temper 
which  climate  and  habits  produce,  could 
hardly  be  united  under  the  same  govern- 
ment. From  these  causes  Italy  was,  after 
tho  demolition  of  the  great  Roman  Empire, 
early  broken  up  into  different  subdivisions, 
which,  more  civilized  than  the  rest  of  Eu- 
rope at  the  time,  attracted  in  various  de- 
grees the  attention  of  mankind ;  and  at 
length,  from  the  sacerdotal  power  of  Rome, 
the  wealth  and  extensive  commerce  of  Ve- 
nice and  Genoa,  the  taste  and  splendour  of 
Florence,  and  the  ancient  fame  of  the  me- 
tropolis of  the  world,  became  of  importance 
much  over-proportioned  to  their  actual  ex- 
tent of  territory.  But  this  time  had  pass- 
ed away,  and  the  Italian  States,  rich  in  re- 
membrances, were  now  comparatively  poor 
in  point  of  immediate  consequence  in  the 
scale  of  nations.  They  retained  their  oli- 
garchical or  monarchical  forms  and  consti- 
tutions, as  in  the  more  vigorous  state  of 
their  existence,  but  appeared  to  have  los* 
their  energies  both  for  good  and  evil.  The 
proud  and  jealous  love  which  each  Italirtn 
used  to  beaj  towards  his  own  province  was 


•228 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOJV  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXU. 


much  abated ;  and  the  jealousy  of  the  fac- 
tions which  divided  most  of  their  states, 
and  induced  the  citizens  to  hazard  their 
own  death  or  exile  in  the  most  trifling  party 
quarrel,  had  subsided  into  that  calm,  selfish 
indifference,  which  disregards  public  inter- 
ests of  all  kinds.  They  were  ill  governed, 
in  so  far  as  their  rulers  neglected  all  means 
of  benefiting  the  subjects  or  improving 
the  country  ;  and  they  were  thus  far  well- 
governed,  that,  softened  by  the  civilization 
of  the  times,  and  oerhaps  by  a  tacit  sense  of 
their  own  weakness,  their  rulers  had  ceas- 
ed, in  a  great  measure,  to  exercise  with  se- 
verity the  despotic  powers  with  which  they 
were  in  many  cases  invested,  though  they 
continued  to  be  the  cause  of  petty  vexa- 
tions, to  which  the  natives  had  become 
callous.  The  Vatican  slept  like  a  volcano, 
which  had  exhausted  its  thunders ;  and 
V^enice,  the  most  jealous  and  cruel  of  oli- 
garchies, was  now  shutting  her  wearied 
eyes,  and  closing  her  ears,  against  inform- 
ers and  spies  of  state.  Tlie  Italian  States 
stood,  therefore,  like  a  brotherhood  of  old 
trees,  decayed  at  heart  and  root,  but  still 
making  some  show  of  branches  and  leaves, 
until  the  French  invasion  rushed  down, 
like  the  whirlwind  which  lays  them  pros- 
trate. 

In  the  relations  between  France  and  Ita- 
ly, it  must  be  observed  that  tivo  of  the 
most  considerable  of  these  States,  Tusca- 
ny and  Venice,  were  actually  in  league 
with  the  former  country,  having  acknowl- 
edged the  republic,  and  done  nothing  to 
deser\e  the  chastisement  of  her  armies. 
Others  might  be  termed  neutral,  not  having 
perhaps  deemed  themselves  of  consequence 
sufficient  to  take  part  in  the  quarrel  of  the 
coalesced  powers  against  France.  The 
Pope  had  given  offence  by  the  affair  of 
Basseville,  and  the  encouragement  which 
his  countenance  afforded  to  the  non-con- 
forming clergy  of  France.  But  excepting 
Naples  and  Austrian  Lombardy,  no  State 
in  Italy  could  Le  exactly  said  to  be  at  open 
war  with  the  new  republic.  Buonaparte 
w.as  determined,  however,  that  this  should 
make  no  difference  in  his  mode  of  treating 
them. 

The  first  of  these  slumbering  potentates 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  was  the 
Duke  of  Parma.  This  petty  sovereign, 
even  before  Buonaparte  entered  Milan, 
had  deprecated  the  victor's  wr.ith  ;  and  al- 
though neither  an  adherent  of  the  coali- 
tion, nor  at  war  with  France,  he  found  him- 
self obliged  to  purchase  an  armistice  In- 
heavy  sacrifices.  He  paid  a  tribute  of  two 
millions  of  livres,  besides  furnishing  hors- 
es and  provisions  to  a  large  amount,  and 
agreeing  to  deliver  up  twenty  of  the  finest 
paintings  in  his  cabinet,  to  be  chosen  by 
the  French  General. 

The  next  of  these  sufferers  was  the 
Duke  of  Rlodena.  This  Prince  w'as  a  man 
of  moderate  abilities ;  his  business  was 
hoarding  money,  and  his  pleasure  consist- 
ed in  nailing  up,  with  his  own  princely 
hands,  the  tapestry  which  ornamented 
churches  on  days  of  high  holiday  ;  from 
Tv-riich  he  acquired  the  nickname   of  the 


royal  upholsterer.  But  his  birth  was  illus- 
trious as  the  descendant  of  that  celebrat- 
ed hero  of  Este,  the  patron  of  Tasso  and 
of  Ariosto ;  and  his  alliance  was  no  less 
splendid,  having  married  the  sister  of  the 
unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette,  and  of  Jo- 
seph the  Second :  then  his  daughter  waa 
married  to  the  Arch-Duke  Ferdinand,  the 
Governor  of  Milan.  Notwithstanding  his 
double  connexion  with  the  Imperial  fami- 
ly, the  principality  of  Modem,  was  so  smadi 
that  he  might  have  been  passed  over  as 
scarce  worthy  of  notice,  but  for  the  temp- 
tation  of  his  treasures,  in  the  works  of  art, 
as  well  as  in  specie.  On  the  approach  of 
a  column  of  the  French  army  to  Modena, 
the  Duke  fled  from  his  capital,  but  sent  his 
brother,  the  Chevalier  d'Este,  to  capitulate 
with  Napoleon. 

It  might  have  been  urged  in  his  favour, 
that  he  was  no  avowed  partner  in  the  coa- 
lition ;  but  Buonaparte  took  for  granted 
his  good  will  towards  his  brother-in-law  the 
Emperor  of  Austria,  and  esteemed  it  a 
crime  deserving  atonement.  Indeed  it  was 
one  which  had  not  been  proved  by  any  open 
action,  but  neither  could  it  admit  of  being 
disproved.  The  Duke  was  therefore  oblig- 
ed to  purchase  the  privilege  of  neutrality, 
and  to  expiate  his  supposed  good  inclina- 
tion for  the  house  of  Austria.  Five  mil- 
lions and  a  half  of  French  livres,  with 
large  contributions  in  provisions  and  accou- 
trements, perhaps  cost  the  Duke  of  Mode- 
na more  anxious  thoughts  than  he  had  be- 
stowed on  the  misfortunes  of  his  imperial 
relatives. 

To  levy  on  obnoxious  states  or  princes 
the  means  of  paying  or  accommodating 
troops,  would  have  been  only  what  has 
been  practised  by  victors  in  all  ages.  But 
an  exaction  of  a  new  kind  was  now  for  the 
first  time  imposed  on  these  Italian  Princes. 
The  Duke  of  Modena,  like  the  Duke  of 
Parma,  was  compelled  to  surrender  twenty 
of  his  choicest  pictures,  to  be  selected  at 
the  choice  of  the  French  General,  and  the 
persons  of  taste  with  whom  he  might  ad- 
vise. This  was  the  first  time  that  a  de- 
mand of  this  nature  had  been  made  in  mod- 
ern times  in  a  public  and  avowed  manner, 
and  we  must  pause  to  consider  the  motives 
and  justice  of  such  a  requisition. 

Hitherto,  works  of  art  had  been  consid- 
ered as  sacred,  even  during  the  utmost  ex- 
tremities of  war.  They  were  judged  to  be 
the  property,  not  so  much  of  the  nation  or 
individuals  who  happened  to  possess  them, 
as  of  tlie  civilized  world  in  general,  who 
were  supposed  to  have  a  common  interest 
in  these  productions,  which,  if  exposed  to 
become  the  ordinary  spoils  of  war,  could 
hardly  escape  damage  or  destruction.  To 
a  strong  example  of  forbearance,  Frederick 
of  Prussia  was  a  passionate  admirer  ot  the 
fine  arts,  and  no  scrupulous  investigator  of 
the  rights  conferred  by  conquest,  but  rather 
disposed  to  stretch  them  to  the  uttermost. 
Yet  when  he  obtained  possession  of  Dres- 
den under  circumstances  of  high  ircitatwn, 
Frederick  respected  the  valuable  gallery, 
cabinets,  and  museums  of  the  capital  of 
Saxony,  and  preserved  their  contenMiumo- 


Chap.  XXII] 

late,  as  a  species  of  property  which  could 
not,  and  ought  not,  to  fall  withiu  the  rights 
of  a  conqueror.  He  considered  the  Elect- 
or as  only  the  keeper  of  the  gallery  j  and 
regarded  the  articles  which  it  contained  as 
belonging  to  the  civilized  world  at  large. 

There  are  persons  who  demand  the  cause 
of  this  distinction,  and  require  to  know  why 
works  of  art,  the  value  of  which  is  created 
solely  by  the  opinion  of  those  who  pretend 
to  understand  them,  and  is  therefore  to  be 
regarded  as  merely  imaginary,  or,  as  it  is 
called  by  lawyers,  a  mere  pretium  affec- 
Uonis,  should  be  exempted  from  that  mar- 
tial law  which  disposes  at  pleasure  of  the 
real  property  of  the  vanquished. 

It  might  easily  be  shown  in  reply,  that 
the  respect  due  to  genius  of  the  highest  or- 
der, attaches  with  a  sort  of  religious  zeal 
to  the  objects  of  our  admiration  in  the  fine 
arts,  and  renders  it  a  species  of  sacrilege  to 
subject  them  to  the  chances  of  war.  It  has 
besides  already  been  hinted,  that  these  chef- 
d'oeuvres  being  readily  liable  to  damage, 
scarcely  admitting  of  being  repaired,  and 
absolutely  incapable  of  being  replaced, 
their  existence  is  hazarded  by  rendering 
them  the  objects  of  removal,  according  to 
the  fluctuation  of  victory. 

But  it  is  surely  sufficient  to  say,  that 
wherever  the  progress  of  civilization  has 
introduced  rules  to  qualify  and  soften  the 
extremities  of  war,  these  should  be  strict- 
ly adhered  to.  In  the  rudest  ages  of  socie- 
ty, man  avails  himself  of  the  right  of  the 
strongest  in  the  fullest  extent.  The  victor 
of  the  Sandwich  Islands  devours  his  enemy 
— the  North  American  Indian  tortures  him 
to  death — almost  all  savage  tribes  render 
their  prisoners  slaves,  and  sell  them  as  such. 
As  society  advances,  these  inhumanities 
fall  out  of  practice  ;  and  it  is  unnecessary 
to  add,  that,  as  the  victorious  general  de- 
serves honourable  mention  in  history,  who, 
by  his  clemency,  relaxes  in  any  respect  the 
rigorous  laws  of  conquest,  so  he  must  be 
censured  in  proportion,  whose  conduct 
tends  to  retrograde  towards  the  brutal  vio- 
lence of  primitive  hostility. 

Buonaparte  cannot  be  exempted  from  this 
censure.  He,  as  the  willing  agent  of  the 
Directory  under  whose  commands  he  acted, 
had  resolved  to  disregard  the  neutrality 
which  had  hitherto  been  considered  as  at- 
taching to  the  productions  of  the  fnie  arts, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  had  determined  to  view 
them  as  the  spoils  of  conquest.  The  mo- 
tive is  more  easily  discovered  than  justified. 

In  the  reign  of  Terror  and  Equality,  the 
fine  arts,  with  everything  connected  with 
cultivated  feelings,  had  been  regarded  as  in- 
consistent with  the  simplicity  of  the  Re- 
publican character  ;  and,  like  the  success- 
tul  fanatics  of  England,  and  the  first  enthu- 
siastic votaries  of  the  Koran,  the  true  Sans 
Culottes  were  disposed  to  esteem  a  taste 
which  could  not  generally  exist  without  a 
previous  superior  education,  as  something 
aristocratic,  and  alien  from  the  imaginary 
■  tandard  of  equality,  to  which  it  was  their 
purpose  to  lower  all  the  exertions  of  intel- 
lect, as  well  as  the  possession  of  property. 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


229 


Palaces    were    therefore    destroyed,    and 
monuments  broken  to  pieces. 

But  this  brutal  prejudice,  with  the  other 
attempts  of  these  frantic  democrats  to 
bring  back  the  world  to  a  state  of  barbarism, 
equally  in  moral  and  in  general  feeling,  was 
discarded  at  the  fall  of  die  Jacobin  authori- 
ty. Those  who  succeeded  to  the  govern- 
ment, exerted  themselves  laudably  in  endea- 
vouring rather  to  excite  men's  minds  to  a 
love  of  those  studies  and  tastes,  which  are 
ever  found  to  humanize  and  soften  the  gen 
eral  tone  of  society,  and  which  teach  hos 
tile  nations  that  they  have  points  of  friend- 
ly union,  even  because  they  unite  in  ad- 
miring the  same  masterpieces  of  art.  A 
Museum  was  formed  at  Paris,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  collecting  and  exhibiting  to  puolic 
admiration  paintings  and  statues,  and  what- 
ever was  excellent  in  art,  for  the  amuse- 
nient  of  the  citizens,  whose  chief  scene  of 
pleasure  hitherto  had  been  a  wild  and  ill- 
regulated  civic  festival,  to  vary  the  usual 
exhibition  of  the  procession  of  a  train  of 
victims  moving  towards  the  guillotine.  The 
substitution  of  such  a  better  object  of  pop- 
ular attention  was  honourable,  virtuous,  and 
politic  in  itself,  and  speedily  led  the  French 
people,  partly  from  taste,  partly  from  na- 
tional vanity,  to  attach  consequence  to  the 
fine  arts  and  their  productions. 

Unfortunately  there  were  no  ordinary 
measures  by  which  the  French,  as  purchas- 
ers, could  greatly  augment  the  contents  of 
their  Museum  ;  and  more  unfortunately  for 
other  nations,  and  ultimately  for  them- 
selves, they  had  the  power  and  the  will 
to  increase  their  possessions  of  this  kind, 
witliout  research  or  expense,  by  means  of 
the  irresistible  progress  of  their  arms.  We 
have  no  right  to  say  that  this  peculiar  spe- 
cies of  spoliation  originated  with  Buona- 
parte personally.  He  probably  obeyed  the 
orders  of  the  Directory ;  and,  besides,  in- 
stances might  no  doubt  be  found  in  the  his- 
tory of  all  nations,  of  interesting  articles 
of  this  nature  having  been  transferred  by  the 
chance  of  war  from  one  country  to  another, 
as  in  cases  of  plunder  of  an  ordinary  de- 
scription, which,  though  seldom  avowed 
or  defended,  are  not  the  less  occasionally 
practised.  But  Napoleon  was  unquestion- 
ably the  first  and  most  active  agent,  who 
made  such  exactions  a  matter  of  course, 
and  enforced  tliem  upon  principle  ;  and  that 
he  was  heartily  engaged  in  this  scheme  of 
general  plunder,  is  sufficiently  proved  from 
his  expressions  to  the  Directory,  upon 
transmitting  those  paintings  which  the  Duke 
of  Modena,  the  first  sufferer  on  this  sys- 
tem, was  compelled  to  surrender,  and  which 
were  transferred  to  Paris  as  the  legitimate 
spoils  of  war. 

But  before  copying  the  terms  in  which 
Napoleon  announces  the  transmission  of 
masterpieces  of  art  to  the  National  Muse- 
um, it  ought  to  be  remarked,  that  the  cele- 
brated Saint  Jerome,  by  Correggio,  which 
he  mentions  with  a  sort  of  insulting  tri- 
umph, was  accounted  so  valuable,  that  the 
Duke  of  Modena  offered  two  millions  of 
livrea  as  the  ransom  of  that  picture  alon« 


230 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXII. 


This  large  sum  the  French  general,  acting 
on  the  principle  which  many  in  his  situa- 
tion were  tempted  to  recognize,  might  have 
aafely  converted  to  his  own  use,  under  the 
certainty  that  the  appropriation,  indispensa- 
ble as  his  services  were  to  the  government, 
would  neither  have  been  inquired  into  nor 
censured.  But  avarice  cannot  be  the  com- 
panion, far  less  the  controller,  of  ambition. 
The  feelings  of  tlie  young  victor  were  of  a 
character  too  elevated  to  stoop  to  the  ac- 
quisition of  wealth  ;  nor  was  his  career,  at 
that  or  any  other  period,  sullied  by  this  par- 
ticular and  most  degrading  species  of  sel- 
fishness. When  his  officers  wouW  have 
persuaded  him  to  accept  the  money,  as 
more  useful  for  the  army,  he  replied,  tliat 
the  two  millions  of  francs  would  soon  be 
epent,  but  the  Correggio  would  remain  an 
ornament  of  the  city  of  Paris  for  ages,  and 
inspire  the  production  of  future  master- 
pieces. 

In  his  despatch  to  the  Directory,  of  17th 
Floreal  (8th  of  May,)  Napoleon  desires  to 
have  some  artists  sent  to  him,  who  might 
collect  the  monuments  of  art ;  which  shows 
that  the  purpose  of  seizing  upon  them  had 
been  already  formed.  In  the  letter  which 
accompanied  the  transmission  of  the  pic- 
tures, he  has  these  remarkable  expressions  : 
— "  You  will  receive  the  articles  of  the 
suspension  of  arms  which  I  have  granted  to 
the  Duke  of  Parma.  I  will  send  you  as 
soon  as  possible  the  finest  pictures  of  Cor- 
reggio, amongst  others  a  Saint  Jerome, 
which  is  said  to  be  his  masterpiece.  I  must 
own  that  the  saint  takes  an  unlucky  time  to 
visit  Paris,  but  I  hope  you  will  grant  him 
the  honours  of  the  Museum." 

The  same  system  was  followed  at  Milan, 
where  several  of  the  most  valuable  articles 
were  taken  from  the  Ambrosian  collection. 
The  articles  were  received  in  the  spirit 
with  which  they  were  transmitted.  The 
most  able  critics  were  despatched  to  assist 
the  general  in  the  selection  of  the  monu- 
ments of  the  fine  arts  to  be  transferred 
to  Paris,  and  the  Secretary-general  of  the 
Lyceum,  confounding  the  possession  of  the 
produittions  of  genius  with  the  genius  itself 
which  created  them,  congratulated  his  coun- 
trymen on  the  noble  dispositions  which  the 
victors  had  evinced.  "  It  is  no  longer 
blood,"  said  the  orator,  ''  which  the  French 
soldier  thirsts  for.  He  desires  to  lead  no 
slaves  in  triumph  behind  his  chariot — it  is 
the  glorious  spoils  of  the  arts  and  of  indus- 
try with  which  he  longs  to  decorate  his  vic- 
tories— he  cherishes  that  devouring  passion 
of  great  souls,  the  love  of  glory,  and  the 
enthusiasm  for  high  talents,  to  which  the 
Greeks  owed  their  astonishing  successes. 
It  was  the  defence  of  thrir  temples,  their 
monuments,  their  statues,  their  great  art- 
ists, that  stimulated  tlioir  valour.  It  was 
t'rom  such  motives  they  conquered  at  Sala- 
mis  and  at  Marathon.  It  is  thus  that  our 
armies  advanr'^,  escorted  by  the  love  of 
arts,  and  followed  by  sweet  peace,  from 
Com  to  Milan,  and  soon  to  proceed  from 
thence  to  the  proud  basilic  of  St.  Peter's." 
The  reasoning  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Ly- 
Mum  is  lost  amidst  his  eloquence  -,  but  the 


speech,  if  it  means  anything,  signifies,  that 
the  seizing  on  those  admired  productions 
placed  the  nation  wliich  acquired  the  forci- 
ble possession  of  lliem,  in  the  same  condi- 
tion as  if  she  had  produced  the  great  men 
by  whom  they  were  achieved  ; — ^just  as  the 
ancient  Scythians  believed  they  becamo 
inspired  with  the  talents  and  the  virtues  of 
tliose  whom  they  murdered.  Or,  according 
to  another  interpretation,  it  may  mean  that 
the  French,  who  fought  to  deprive  other 
nations  of  their  property,  had  as  praisewor- 
thy motives  of  action  as  the  Greeks,  who 
made  war  in  defence  of  that  which  was 
their  own.  But  however  their  conduct 
might  be  regarded  by  themselves,  it  is  very 
certain  that  they  did  by  no  means  resemble 
those  whose  genius  set  the  example  of  such 
splendid  success  in  the  fine  arts.  On  the 
contrary,  the  classical  prototype  of  Buona- 
parte in  this  transaction,  was  the  Roman 
Consul  Mummius,  who  violently  plundered 
Greece  of  tliose  treasures  of  art,  of  which 
he  himself  and  his  countrymen  were  insen- 
sible to  the  real  and  proper  value. 

It  is  indeed  little  to  the  purpose,  in  a 
moral  point  of  view,  whether  the  motive 
for  this  species  of  rapine  were  or  were  not 
genuine  love  of  the  art.  The  fingering 
connoisseur  who  secretes  a  gem,  cannot 
plead  in  mitigation,  that  he  stole  it,  not  oa 
account  of  the  value  of  the  "^tone,  but  for 
the  excellence  of  the  engravmg;  any  more 
than  the  devotee  who  stole  a  Bible  could 
shelter  herself  under  a  religious  motive. 
But,  in  truth,  we  do  not  believe  that  the 
French  or  their  general  were  actuated  On 
this  occasion  by  the  genuine  love  of  art. 
This  taste  leads  men  to  entertain  respect 
for  the  objects  which  it  admires  ;  and  feel- 
ing its  genuine  influence,  a  conqueror  would 
decline  to  give  an  example  of  a  species  of 
rapine,  which,  depriving  those  objects  of 
admiration  of  the  protection  with  which 
the  general  sentiment  of  civilized  nations 
had  hitherto  invested  them,  must  hold  them 
up,  like  other  ordinary  property,  as  a  prey 
to  the  strongest  soldier.  Again,  we  cannot 
but  be  of  opinion,  that  a  genuine  lover  of 
the  arts  would  have  hesitated  to  tear  those 
paintings  from  the  churches  or  palaces,  for 
the  decoration  of  which  they  had  been  ex- 
pressly painted,  and  where  they  must  al- 
ways have  been  seen  to  the  best  effect, 
whether  from  the  physical  advantages  of 
the  light,  size  of  apartment,  and  other  suit- 
able localities  connected  with  their  original 
situation,  or  from  the  moral  feelings  which 
connect  the  works  themselves  with  the 
place  for  which  they  were  primarily  design- 
ed, and  which  they  had  occupied  for  ages. 
The  destruction  of  these  mental  connex- 
ions, which  give  so  mucli  additional  effect 
to  painting  and  statuary,  merely  to  gratifj 
the  selfish  love  of  appropriation,  is  like 
taking  a  gem  out  of  the  setting,  which  in 
many  casee  may  considerably  diminish  it* 
value. 

^Ve  cannot,  therefore,  believe,  that  this 
system  of  spoliation  was  dictated  by  any 
sincere  and  manly  love  of  the  arts,  though 
this  was  so  much  talked  of  in  France  at  the 
timn^    It  must,  on  thu  contrary,  bo  aapribwd 


Chap.  XXIII.}         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


231 


to  the  art  and  ambition  of  the  Directory  who 
ordered,  and  the  General  who  obeyed ;  both 
of  whom,  being  sensible  that  the  national 
vanity  would  be  flattered  by  this  species 
of  tribute,  hastened  to  secure  it  an  ample 
gratification.  Buonaparte,  in  particular, 
was  at  least  sufficiently  aware,  that,  with 
however  little  purity  of  taste  the  Parisians 
might  look  upon  these  exquisite  produc- 
tions, they  would  be  sufficiently  alive  to 
the  recollection,  that,  being  deemed  by  all 
civilized  people  the  most  admirable  speci- 
mens in  the  world,  the  valour  of  the  French 
armies,  and  the  skill  of  their  unrivalled 
general,  had  sent  them  to  adorn  the  me- 
tropolis of  France;  and  might  hope,  that 
once  brought  to  the  prime  city  of  the  Great 
Nation,  such  chef-d'oeuvres  could  not  again 
be  subject  to  danger  by  transportation,  but 
must  remain  there,  fixed  as  household  gods, 
for  the  admiration  of  posterity.  So  hoped, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  victor  himself;  and 
doubtless  with  the  proud  anticipation,  that 
in  future  ages  the  recollection  of  himself, 
and  of , his  deeds,  must  be  inseparably  con- 
nected with  the  admiration  which  the  Mu- 
seum, ordained  and  enriched  by  him,  was 
calculated  to  produce. 

But  art  and  ambition  are  apt  to  estimate 
the  advantagesof  a  favourite  measure  some- 
what too  hastily.     By  this  breach  of  the 


law  of  nations,  as  hitherto  acknowledged 
and  acted  upon,  the  French  degraded  their 
own  character,  and  excited  the  strongest 
prejudice  against  their  rapacity  among  the 
Italians,  whose  sense  of  injury  was  in  pro- 
portion to  the  value  which  they  set  upon 
those  splendid  works,  and  to  the  dishonour 
which  they  felt  at  being  forcibly  deprived 
of  them.  Their  lamentations  were  almost 
like  those  of  Micah  the  Ephraimite,  when 
robbed  of  "  the  graven  image,  and  the  Ter- 
aphim,  and  the  Ephod,  and  the  molten  im- 
age," by  the  armed  and  overbearing  Danites 
— "  Ye  have  taken  away  my  gods  that  I 
have  made,  and  what  have  I  more  ?" 

Again,  by  this  unjust  proceeding,  Buona- 
parte prepared  for  France  and  her  capital 
the  severe  moral  lesson  inflicted  upon  [her 
by  the  allies  in  1815.  Victory  has  wings 
as  well  as  Riches  ;  and  the  abuse  of  con- 
quest, as  of  wealth,  becomes  frequently  the 
source  of  bitter  retribution.  Had  the  paint- 
ings of  Correggio,  and  other  great  masters, 
been  left  undisturbed  in  the  custody  of 
their  true  owners,  there  could  not  have 
been  room,  at  an  after  period,  when  look- 
ing around  the  Louvre,  for  the  reflection, 
"  Here  once  were  disposed  the  treasures 
of  art,  which,  won  by  violence,  were  lost 
by  defeat." 


CHAP.  XXIII. 


Directory  propose  to  divide  the  Army  of  Italy  betwixt  Uuoaaparie  and  Kellerinann — 
Buonaparte  resigns,  and  the  Directory  give  vp  the  point. — Itisurrer.tion  against  the 
French  at  Pavia — crushed — and  the  Leaders  shot — Also  at  the  Imperial  Fiefs  and 
Lugo,  quelled  and  punished  iii  the  same  xoay. — Reflections. — Austrians  defeated  at 
Borghetlo,  and  retreat  behind  the  Adige. — Buonaparte  narrowly  escapes  being  made 
Prisoner  at  Valeggio. — Mantua  blockaded. —  Verona  occupied  by  the  French. — King 
of  Naples  secedes  from  Austria. — Armistice  purchased  by  the  Pope. —  The  Neutrality 
of  Tuscany  violated,  and  Leghorn  occupied  by  the  French  Troops. —  Vieios  of  Buo- 
naparte respecting  the  Revolutionizing  of  Italy — He  temporizes. — Conduct  of  the  Aus- 
trian Government  at  this  Crisis. — Beaulieu  displaced,  and  succeeded  by  Wurmser.— 
Buonaparte  sits  down  before  Mantua. 


Occupying  Milan,  and  conqueror  in  so 
many  battles,  Buonaparte  might  be  justly 
considered  as  in  absolute  possession  of 
Lombardy,  while  the  broken  forces  of  Beau- 
lieu  had  been  compelled  to  retreat  under 
that  sole  remaining  bulwark  of  the  Austri- 
an power,  the  strong  fortress  of  Mantua, 
where  they  might  await  such  support  as 
should  be  detached  to  them  throusrh  the 
Tyrol,  but  could  undertake  no  offen-sive  op- 
erations. To  secure  his  position,  the  Aus- 
trian general  had  occupied  the  line  formed 
by  the  Mincio,  his  left  flank  resting  upon 
Mantua,  his  right  upon  Peschiera,  a  Vene- 
tian city  and  fortress,  but  of  which  he  had 
taken  possession,  against  the  reclamation 
of  the  Venetian  government,  wlio  were  de- 
sirous of  observing  a  neutrality  between 
such  powerful  belligerents,  not  perliaps  al- 
together aware  how  far  the  victor,  in  so 
dreadful  a  strife,  might  be  disposed  to  neg- 
lect the  general  law  of  nations.  The  Aus- 
trian defence  on  the  right  was  prolonged  l)y 
the  Lago  di  Guarda,  a  large  laj^c  out  of 


I  wliich  the  Mincio  flows,  and  which,  running 
1  thirty-five  miles  northward  into  the  moun- 
I  tains  of  the  Tyrol,  maintained  uninter- 
rupted Beaulieu's  communication  with  Ger- 
many. 

Buonaparte  in  the  meantime  permittea 
his  forces  only  the  repose  of  four  or  fivo 
days,  ere  he  again  summoned  them  to  active 
exertion.  He  called  on  them  to  visit  the 
Capitol,  there  to  re-establish  (he  ought  to 
have  said  to  carry  away)  the  statues  of  the 
great  men  of  antiquity,  and  to  change  or 
rather  renovate  the  destinies  of  the  finest 
district  of  Europe.  But  while  thus  engag- 
ed, he  received  orders  frofn  Paris  respect- 
ing his  farther  proceedings,  which  must 
have  served  to  convince  him  that  all  his 
personal  enemies,  all  who  doubted  and 
feared  him,  were  not  to  be  found  in  tlw 
Austrian  ranks. 

The  Directory  themselves  had  begun  to 
suspect  the  prudenceof  snfTrring  the  whole 
harvest  of  success  which  Italy  afforded,  to 
be  reaped  by  the  adventurous  and  liaaghtj 


232 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXIII. 


character  who  had  first  thrust  in  the  sic- 
kle. They  perhaps  felt  already  an  instinc- 
tive distrust  of  the  waxing  influence,  whicli 
was  destined  one  day  to  overpower  their 
own.  Under  some  sucli  impression,  they 
resolved  to  divide  the  army  of  Italy  betwixt 
Buonaparte  and  Kellermaiin,  directing  the 
former  general  to  pass  the  Po,  and  advance 
eouUiward  on  Rome  and  Naples,  with  twen- 
ty thousand  men;  while  Kellermann,  with 
tie  other  moiety  of  the  Italian  army,  should 
press  the  siege  of  Mantua,  and  make  head 
against  the  Austrians. 

This  was  taking  Buonaparte's  victory  out 
of  his  grasp  ;  and  he  resented  the  proposal 
accordingly,  by  transmitting  his  resigna- 
tion, and  declining  to  have  any  concern  in 
the  loss  of  his  army,  and  the  fruits  of  his 
conquests.  He  afRrmed,  that  Kellermann, 
with  an  army  reduced  to  twenty  thousand 
men,  could  not  face  Beaulieu,  but  wou'd 
be  speedily  driven  out  of  Lombardy  ;  and 
that,  in  consequence,  the  army  which  ad- 
vanced southward  would  be  overwhelmed 
and  destroyed.  One  bad  general,  lie  said, 
was  better  than  two  good  ones.  The  Direc- 
tory must  have  perceived  from  such  a  re- 
ply, the  firm  and  inflexible  nature  of  the 
man  they  had  made  the  leader  of  their  ar- 
mies, but  they  dared  not,  such  was  his  rep- 
utation, proceed  in  the  plan  they  had  form- 
ed for  the  diminution  of  his  power  ;  and 
perhaps  for  the  first  time  since  the  Revolu- 
tion, the  executive  government  of  France 
was  compelled  to  give  way  to  a  successful 
general,  and  adopt  his  views  instead  of  their 
own  The  campaign  was  left  to  his  sole 
management ;  he  obtained  an  ascendency 
which  he  took  admirable  care  not  to  relin- 
quish, and  it  became  the  only  task  of  the 
Directory,  so  far  as  Italy  was  concerned,  to 
study  phrases  for  intimating  their  approba- 
tion of  the  young  general's  measures. 

Whatever  were  the  ultimate  designs  of 
Buonaparte  against  Rome,  he  thought  it 
prudent  to  suspend  them  until  he  should  be 
free  from  all  danger  of  the  Austrians,  by  the 
final  defeat  of  Beaulieu.  For  this  object, 
he  directed  the  divisions  of  his  army  to- 
wards the  right  bank  of  the  Mincio,  with  a 
view  of  once  more  forcing  Beaulieu's  posi- 
tion, after  having  taken  precautions  for 
blockading  the  citadel  of  Milan,  where  the 
Austrians  still  held  out,  and  for  guarding 
Pavia  and  otlier  points,  which  appeared  ne- 
cessary to  secure  his  conquests. 

Napoleon  himself  fixed  his  head-quarters 
at  Lodi,  upon  the  21tli  of  May.  But  he  was 
scarcely  arrived  there,  when  he  received 
the  alarmint,'  intelligence,  that  the  city  of 
Pavia,  with  all  the  surrounding  districts, 
were  in  arms  in  his  rear  ;  that  the  tocsin 
was  ringing  in  every  village,  and  that  news 
were  circulated  that  the  Prince  of  Conde's 
army,  united  with  a  strong  Austrian  force, 
had  descended  from  the  Tyrol  into  Italy.  I 
Some  commotions  had  shown  themselves  in 
Milan,  and  the  Austrian  garrison  there  made 
demonstrations  towards  favouring  the  in- 
surrection in  Pavia,  where  the  insurgents 
were  completely  successful,  and  had  made  I 
prisoners  a  French  corps  of  three  hundred  ' 
men. 


Buonaparte  represents  these  disturban- 
ces as  ellected  by  .Vustrian  agents;  but  he 
had  formerly  assured  us,  that  the  Italians 
took  little  interest  in  the  fate  of  their  Ger- 
man masters.  The  truth  is,  that  having  en- 
tered Italy  with  the  most  flattering  assur- 
ances of  observing  respect  for  public  and 
private  property,  the  French  had  disgusted 
the  inhabitants,  by  e.xacting  tlie  contriba- 
tions  which  they  had  imposed  on  the  coun- 
try with  great  severity.  .As  Catholics,  the 
Italians  W'Cre  also  disgusted  with  the  open 
indignities  thrown  on  the  places  and  objects 
of  public  worship,  as  well  as  on  the  persons 
and  character  ol  their  priests.* 

The  nobles  and  the  clergj-  naturally  saw 
their  ruin  in  the  success  of  the  French  ;  and 
tlie  lower  classes  joined  them  for  the 
time,  from  dislike  to  foreigners,  love  of  na- 
tional independence,  resentment  of  the  ex- 
actions made,  and  the  acts  of  sacrilege 
committed  by  the  ultramontane  invaders. 
.\bout  thirty  thousand  insurgents  were  in 
arms ;  but  having  no  regular  forces  on 
whicli  to  rest  as  a  rallying  point,  they  were 
ill  calculated  to  endure  the  rapid  assault  of 
the  disciplined  French. 

Buonaparte,  anxious  to  extinguish  a 
flame  so  formidable,  instantly  returned  from 
Lodi  to  Milan,  at  the  head'  of  a  strong  di- 
vision, took  order  for  the  safety  of  the  cap- 
ital of  Lombardy,  and  moved  next  morning 
towards  Pavia.  "tlie  centre  of  the  insurrec- 
tion. The  village  of  Benasco,  which  was 
defended  against  Launes,  w,as  taken  by 
storm,  the  inhabitants  put  to  the  sword,  and 
the  place  plundered  and  burnt.  Napoleon 
himself  arrived  before  Pavia,  blew  the  gates 
open  with  his  cannon,  dispersed  with  ease 
the  half-armed  insurgents,  and  caused  the 
leaders  of  the  insurrection  to  be  put  to 
death,  for  having  attempted  to  defend  the 
independence  of  their  country.  He  then 
seized  on  the  persons  of  many  inhabitants 
and  sent  them  to  Paris  as  hostages  for  the 
subjection  of  their  fellow-citizens. 

The  French  general  published  a  procla- 
mation in  the  Republican  style,  in  which 
he  reproaches  the  insurgents  for  presuming 
to  use  arms  in  defence  of  their  country, 
and  menaces  with  fire  and  sword  whatever 
individuals  should  in  future  prosecute  the 
same  daring  course.  He  made  his  threat 
good  some  weeks  afterwards,  when  a  sim- 
ilar insurrection  took  place  in  those  dis- 
tricts called  the  Imperial  fiefs,  and  still  lat- 
er, when  an  effort  at  resistance  was  attempt- 
ed in  the  town  of  Lugo.  On  both  occa- 
sions, the  leaders  of  the  armed  inhabitants 
were  tried  by  a  military  commission,  con- 
demned, and  shot.  On  the  last,  indeed,  to 
revenge  the  defeat  sustained  by  a  squadron' 
of  French  dragoons,  Lugo  was  taken  by 
storm,  pillaged,  burnt,  and  the  men  put  to 
the  sword;  while   some  credit  seems  to  b« 

*  It  has  been  alleged,  tliat  in  a  farce  exhibited 
on  tliu  public  stage  by  authority  of  Buonaparte, 
the  Pope  \vri3  iiitroiUiced  in  his  pontifical  dreas. 
This,  which  could  not  be  looked  on  as  less  than 
sacrilege  by  a  Catholic  population,  docs  not  ac- 
cord with  the  general  conduct  of  Buonaparte  See, 
howover.  Tableau  ties  premieres  Ouerres  d* 
Buonaparte,  Paris,  1815  par  Lo  Chevalier  Mfr- 
chaud  do  Villellc,  p.  41. 


Chop.  XXIIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


233 


taken  by  Buonaparte  in  his  despatches,  for 
the  clemency  of  the  French,  which  spared 
the  women  and  children. 

It  is  impossible  to  read  the  account  of 
these  severities,  without  contrasting  them 
with  the  opinions  professed  on  other  occa- 
sions, both  by  the  republican  and  imperial 
governments  of  France.  The  first  of  these 
exclaimed  as  at  an  unheard-of  cruelty, 
when  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  in  his  cele- 
brated proclamation,  threatened  to  treat  as 
a  brigand  every  Frenchman,  not  being  a 
Boldier,  whom  he  should  find  under  s.rms, 
and  to  destroy  such  villages  as  should  offer 
resistance  to  the  invading  army.  The 
French  at  that  time  considered  with  justice, 
that,  if  there  is  one  duty  more  holy  than 
another,  it  is  that  which  calls  on  men  to  de- 
fend their  native  country  against  invasion. 
Napoleon,  being  emperor,  was  of  the  same 
opinion  in  the  years  1813  and  ISM,  when 
the  allies  entered  the  French  territories, 
&od  when,  in  various  proclamations,  he 
called  on  the  inhabitants  to  rise  against  the 
invaders  with  the  implements  of  their  ordi- 
nary labour  when  they  had  no  better  arms, 
and  "  to  shoot  a  foreigner  as  they  would  a 
wolf."  It  would  be  difficult  to  reconcile 
these  invitations  with  the  cruel  vengeance 
taken  on  the  town  of  Lugo,  for  observing  a 
line  of  conduct  which,  in,  similar  circum- 
etances,  Buonaparte  so  keenly  and  earnest- 
ly recommended  to  those  whom  fortune 
had  made  his  own  subjects. 

The  brief  insurrection  of  Pavia  suppress- 
ed by  these  severities,  Buonaparte  once 
more  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  strong  po- 
eition  of  the  Austrians,  with  the  purpose 
of  reducing  Beaulieu  to  a  more  decided 
etate  of  disability,  before  he  executed  the 
threatened  vengeance  of  the  Republic  on 
the  Sovereign  Pontiff.  For  this  purpose  he 
advanced  to  Brescia,  and  manceuvred  in 
such  a  manner  as  induced  Beaulieu.  whom 
repeated  surprises  of  the  same  kind  had  not 
put  upon  his  guard,  to  believe,  that  either 
the  French  general  intended  to  attempt  the 
passiige  of  the  Mincio  at  the  small  but 
strong  town  of  Peschiera,  where  that  river 
issues  from  the  Lago  di  Guarda,  or  else 
that,  marching  northward  along  the  eastern 
bank,  he  designed  to  come  round  the  head 
of  the  lake ,  and  thus  turn  the  right  of  the 
Austrian  position.  While  Beaulieu  dispos- 
ed his  forces  as  expecting  an  attack  on  the 
right  of  his  line,  Buonaparte,  with  his  usu- 
al celerity,  proposed  to  attack  him  on  the 
centre,  at  Borghetto,  a  town  situated  on  the 
Mincio,  and  commanding  a  bridge  over  it, 
about  ten  miles  lower  than  Peschiera. 

On  the  30th  May,  the  French  general  at- 
tacked, with  superior  force,  and  repulsed 
across  the  Mincio,  an  Austrian  corps  who 
endeavoured  to  cover  the  town.  The  fugi- 
tives endeavoured  to  demolish  the  bridge, 
and  did  break  down  one  of  its  arches.  But 
the  French  rushing  forward  with  impetuosi- 
ty, under  cover  of  a  heavy  fire  upon  the 
retreating  Austrians,  repaired  the  broken 
arch  so  as  to  effect  a  passage,  and  the  .Min- 
eio,  passed  as  the  Po  and  the  Adda  had 
been  before,  ceaised  in  its  turn  to  be  a  pro- 
tection to  the  army  drawn  up  behind  it. 


Beaulieu,  who  had  his  head-quarters  at 
Valeggio,  a  village  nearly  opposite  to  Bor- 
ghetto, hastened  to  retreat,  and,  evacuating 
Peschiera,  marched  his  dismayed  forces  be- 
hind the  Adigc,  leaving  five  hundred  pris- 
onerSj  with  other  trophies  of  victory,  in  the 
hands  of  the  French.  Buonaparte  had  de- 
signed that  this  day  of  success  should  have 
been  still  more  decisive,  for  he  meditated 
an  attick  upon  Peschiera  at  the  moment 
when  the  passage  at  Borghetto  was  accom- 
plished ;  but  ere  Augereau,  to  whom  this 
manoeuvre  was  committed,  had  time  to  ap- 
proach Peschiera,  it  was  evacuated  by  the 
Austrians,  who  were  in  full  retreat  by  Cas- 
tel  >(Uovo,  protected  by  their  cavalry. 

The  left  of  the  Austrian  line,  cut  off 
from  the  centre  by  the  passage  of  the 
French,  had  been  stationed  at  Puzzuolo, 
lower  on  the  Mincio.  When  Sebottendorf, 
who  commanded  the  Imperial  troops,  sta^ 
tioued  on  the  left  bank,  heard  the  cannoo- 
ade,  he  immediately  ascended  the  river,  to 
assist  his  commander-in-chief  to  repel  the 
French,  or  to  take  them  in  flank  if  it  wa* 
already  crossed.  The  retreat  of  Beauliea 
made  both  purposes  impossible  ;  and  yet 
this  march  of  Sebottendorf  had  almost 
produced  a  result  of  greater  consequence 
than  would  have  been  the  most  complete 
victory. 

The  French  division  which  first  crossed 
the  !Mincio,  had  passed  through  Valeggio 
without  halting  in  pursuit  of  Beaulieu,  by 
whom  the  village  had  been  just  before  aban- 
doned. Buonaparte  with  a  small  retinue 
remained  in  the  place,  and  Massena's  di- 
vision were  still  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Mincio,  preparing  their  dinner.  At  this 
moment  the  advanced  guard  of  Sebotteii- 
dorf,  consisting  of  hulans  and  hus-^ars,  push- 
ed into  the  village  of  Valeggio.  There 
was  but  barely  time  to  cry  to  arms,  and, 
shutting  the  gates  of  the  inn,  to  emplo"  the 
general's  small  escort  in  its  defence,  while 
Buonaparte,  escaping  by  the  garden,  mount- 
ed his  horse,  and  galloped  towards  Masse- 
na's  division.  The  soldiers  threw  asid9 
their  cooker}',  and  marched  instantly  against 
Sebottendorf,  who,  with  much  difficulty, 
and  not  without  loss,  effected  a  retreat  la 
the  same  direction  as  his  commander-ia- 
chief  Beaulieu.  This  personal  risk  indao- 
ed  Buonaparte  to  form  what  he  called  the 
corps  of  guides,  veterans  of  ten  years'  ser- 
vice at  least,  who  were  perpetually  near 
his  person,  and  like  the  Triarii  of  the  Ro- 
mans, were  employed  only  when  the  most 
desperate  efforts  of  courage  were  necessa- 
ry. Bessieres,  afterwards  Duke  of  Istria, 
and  Mareschal  of  France,  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  tlils  chosen  i^ody,  which  gave  rise 
to  the  formation  of  the  celebrated  Imperial 
Guards  of  Napoleon. 

The  passage  of  the  Mincio  obliged  the 
Austrians  to  retire  within  the  frontier  of 
the  Tyrol  ;  and  they  might  have  been  con- 
sidered as  completely  expelled  from  Italy, 
had  not  Mantua  and  the  citadel  of  Milan 
still  continued  to  display  the  Imperial  ban- 
ners. The  castle  of  Milan  was  a  place  of 
no  extraordinary  strength,  the  surrender  of 
I  which  might  be  calculated  on  so  soon  a» 


234 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  xxm. 


the  genera,  fate  of  war  had  declared  itself 
against  the  present  possessors.  But  Man- 
tua was  by  nature  one  of  those  almost  im- 
pregnable fortresses,  wliich  may  long,  re- 
lying on  its  own  resources,  defy  any  com- 
pulsion but  that  of  famine. 

The  town  and  fortress  of  Mantua  are  sit- 
uated on  a  species  of  island,  five  or  six 
leagues  square,  called  the  Seraglio,  formed 
by  three  lakes  which  communicate  with, 
or  rather  are  formed  by,  the  Mincio.  This 
island  has  access  to  the  land  by  five  cause- 
ways, the  most  important  of  which  was  in 
1796  defended  by  a  regular  citadel,  called, 
from  the  vicinity  of  a  ducal  palace,  La  F'a- 
vorita.  Another  was  defended  by  an  en- 
trenched camp  extending  between  the  for- 
tress and  the  lake.  The  third  was  protect- 
ed by  a  hornwork.  The  remaining  two 
causeways  were  only  defended  by  gates  and 
drawbridges.  Mantua,  low  in  situation,  and 
surrounded  by  water,  in  a  warm  climate,  is 
naturally  unhealthy;  but  the  air  was  likely 
to  be  still  m'"re  destructive  to  a  besieging 
army,  (whi<  n  necessarily  lay  in  many  re- 
tpects  mr  e  exposed  to  the  elements,  and 
we  e  besides  in  greater  numbers,  and  less 
ha  ituated  to  the  air  of  the  place,)  than  to 
a  ,arrison  who  had  been  seasoned  to  it,  and 
V  ere  well  accommodated  within  the  for- 
iress. 

To  surprise  a  place  so  strong  by  a  coup- 
de-main  was  impossible,  though  Buona- 
parte" represents  his  soldiers  as  murmuring 
that  such  a  desperate  feat  was  not  attempt- 
ed. But  he  blockaded  Mantua  with  a  large 
force,  and  proceeded  to  take  such  other 
measures  to  improve  his  success,  as  might 
pave  the  way  to  future  victories.  The 
garrison  was  numerous,  amounting  to  from 
twelve  to  fourteen  thousand  men ;  and  the 
deficiencies  of  the  fortifications,  which  the 
Austrians  had  neglected  in  over  security, 
we""",  made  up  for  by  the  natural  strength 
of  the  place.  Yet  of  the  five  causeways, 
Buonaparte  made  himself  master  of  four  ; 
and  thus  the  enemy  lost  possession  of  all 
beyond  the  walls  of  the  town  and  citadel, 
and  had  only  the  means  of  attaining  the 
mainland  through  the  citadel  of  La  Favo- 
rita.  Lines  of  circumvallation  were  form- 
ed, and  SerruTier,  was  left  in  blockade  of 
the  fortress,  which  the  possession  of  four 
of  the  accesses  enabled  him  to  accomplish 
with  a  body  of  men  inferior  to  the  garrison. 
To  complete  the  blockade,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  come  to  some  arrangement  with 
the  ancient  republic  of  Venice.  With  this 
venerable  government  Napoleon  had  the 
power  of  working  his  own  pleasure ;  for 
although  the  state  might  have  raised  a  con- 
siderable army  to  assist  the  Austrians,  to 
whom  its  senate,  or  aristocratic  govern- 
ment, certainly  bore  good-will,  yet,  having 
been  in  amity  with  the  French  Republic, 
they  deemed  the  step  too  hazardous,  and 
vainly  trusting  that  their  neutrality  would 
be  respected,  they  saw  the  Austrian  power 
completely  broken  for  the  time,  before  they 
took  any  active  measures  either  to  stand  in 
their  defence,  or  to  deprecate  the  wrath  of 
the  victor.  But  when  the  line  of  the  Min- 
cio was  forced,  and  Buonaparte  occupied 


the  Venetian  territory  ( o  the  left  bank, 
it  was  time  to  seek  by  concessions  that  de- 
ference to  the  rights  of  an  independent 
country,  which  the  once  haughty  aristocra- 
cj'  of  Venice  had  lost  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity of  supporting  by  force. 

There  was  one  circumstance  which  ren« 
dered  their  cause  unfavourable.  Louis 
XVIIL,  under  the  title  of  a  private  person, 
the  Comte  de  Lisle,  had  received  tne  hos- 
pitality of  the  republic,  and  was  permitted 
to  remain  at  Verona,  living  in  strict  seclu- 
sion. The  permission  to  entertain  this  dis- 
tinguished exile,  the  Venetian  government 
had  almost  mendicated  from  the  French 
revolutionary  rulers,  in  a  manner  which  we 
would  term  mean,  were  it  not  for  the  good- 
ness of  the  intention,  which  leads  us  to  re- 
gard the  conduct  of  the  ancient  mistress  of 
the  Adriatic  with  pity  rather  than  contempt. 
But  when  the  screen  of  the  Austrian  force 
no  longer  existed  between  the  invading  ar- 
mies of  France  and  the  Venetian  territories 
— when  the  final  subjugation  of  the  north 
of  Italy  was  resolved  on — the  Directory  per 
remptorily  demanded,  and  the  senate  of 
Venice  were  obliged  to  grant,  an  order,  re- 
moving the  Comte  de  Lisle  from  the  boun- 
daries of  the  republic. 

The  illustrious  exile  protested  against 
this  breach  of  hospitality,  and  demanded, 
before  parting,  that  his  name,  which  had 
been  placed  on  the  golden  book  of  the  re- 
public, should  be  erased,  and  that  the  ar- 
mour presented  by  Henry  IV.  to  Venice, 
should  be  restored  to  his  descendant.  Both 
demands  were  evaded,  as  might  have  been 
expected  in  the  circumstances,  and  the  fu 
ture  monarch  of  France  left  Verona  on  the 
21st  of  April  1796,  for  the  army  of  the  Prince 
of  Conde,  in  whose  ranks  he  proposed  to 
place  himself,  without  the  purpose  of  as- 
suming any  command,  but  only  that  of  fight- 
ing as  a  volunteer  in  the  character  of  the 
first  gentleman  of  France.  Other  less  dis- 
tinguished emigrants,  to  the  number  of 
several  hundreds,  who  had  found  an  asylum 
in  Italy,  were,  by  the  successes  atLodi  and 
Borghetto,  compelled  to  fly  to  other  coun- 
tries. 

Buonaparte,  immediately  after  the  battle 
of  Borghetto,  and  the  passage  of  the  Mincio, 
occupied  the  town  of  Verona,  and  did  not 
fail  to  intimate  to  its  magistrates,  that  if  the 
Pretender,  as  he  termed  him,  to  the  throne 
of  France,  had  not  left  Verona  before  his 
arrival,  he  would  have  burnt  to  the  ground 
a  town  which,  acknowledging  him  as  King 
of  France,  assumed,  in  doing  so,  the  air  of 
being  itself  the  capital  of  that  republic. 
This  might,  no  doubt,  sound  gallant  in  Pa- 
ris ;  but  Buonaparte  knew  well  that  Louis 
of  France  was  not  received  in  the  Venetian 
territory  as  the  successor  to  his  brother's 
throne,  but  only  with  the  hospitality  due 
to  an  unfortunate  prince,  who,  suiting  hia 
claim  and  title  to  his  situation,  was  content 
to  shelter  his  head,  as  a  private  man  might 
have  done,  from  the  evils  which  seemed  to 
pursue  him. 

The  neutrality  of  Venice  was,  however, 
for  the  time  admitted,  though  not  entirely 
from  respect  for  the  law  of  nations  j   for 


Chap.  XXIII]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEO^  BUONAPARTE. 


235 


Buonaparte  is  at  some  pains  to  justify  bim- 
Belf  for  not  having  seized  without  ceremony 
on  the  territories  and  resources  of  that  re- 
public, although  a  neutral  power  as  far  as 
her  utmost  exertions  could  preserve  neu- 
trality. He  contented  himself  for  the  time 
with  occupying  Verona,  and  other  depend- 
encies of  Venice  upon  the  line  of  the 
Adige.  "  You  are  too  weak,"  he  said  to  the 
Proveditore  Fescarelli,  "  to  pretend  to  en- 
force neutrality  with  a  few  hundred  Sclavo- 
nians  on  two  such  nations  as  France  and 
Austria.  The  Austrians  have  not  respected 
your  territory  where  it  suited  their  purpose, 
and  I  must,  in  requital,  occupy  such  part  as 
falls  within  the  line  of  the  Adige." 

But  he  considered  that  the  Venetian  ter- 
ritories to  the  westward  should  in  policy  be 
allowed  to  retain  the  character  of  neutral 
ground,  which  The  Government,  as  that  of 
Venice  was  emphatically  called,  would  not, 
for  their  own  sakes,  permit  them  to  lose  ; 
while  otherwise,  if  occupied  by  the  French 
aa  conquerors,  these  timid  neutrals  might 
upon  any  reverse  have  resumed  the  charac- 
ter of  fierce  opponents.  And,  at  all  events, 
in  order  to  secure  a  territory  as  a  conquest, 
which,  if  respected  as  neutral,  would  secure 
itself,  there  would  have  been  a  necessity 
for  dividing  the  French  forces,  which  it  was 
Buonaparte's  wish  to  concentrate.  From 
interested  motives,  therefore,  if  not  from 
respect  to  justice,  Buonaparte  deferred  seiz- 
ing the  territory  of  Venice  when  within  his 
grasp,  conscious  that  the  total  defeat  of  the 
Austrians  in  Italy  would,  when  accomplish- 
ed, leave  the  prey  as  attainable,  and  more 
defenceless  than  ever.  Having  disposed 
his  army  in  its  position,  and  prepared  some 
of  its  divisions  for  the  service  which  they 
were  to  perform  as  moveable  columns,  he 
returned  to  Milan  to  reap  the  harvest  of  his 
successes. 

The  first  of  these  consisted  in  the  defec- 
tion of  the  King  of  Naples  from  the  cause 
of  Austria,  to  which,  from  family  conne.xion, 
he  had  yet  remained  attached,  though  of 
late  with  less  deep  devotion.  His  cavalry 
had  behaved  better  during  the  engage-ments 
on  the  Mincio,  than  has  been  of  late  the  cus- 
tom with  Neapolitan  troops,  and  had  suffer- 
ed accordingly.  The  King,  discouraged 
with  the  loss,  solicited  an  armistice,  which 
he  easily  obtained  ;  for  his  dominions  being 
situated  at  the  lower  extremity  of  Italy,  and 
bis  force  extending  to  sixty  thousand  men 
at  least,  it  was  of  importance  to  secure  the 
neutrality  of  a  power  who  might  be  danger- 
ous, and  who  was  not,  as  matters  stood,  un- 
der the  immediate  control  of  the  French. 
A  Neapolitan  ambassador  was  sent  to  Paris 
to  conclude  a  final  peace ;  in  the  mean- 
while, the  soldiers  of  tjje  King  of  the  Two 
Sicilies  were  withdrawn  from  the  army  of 
Beaulieu,  and  returned  to  their  own  coun- 
try. The  dispositions  of  the  Court  of  Na- 
ples continued,  nevertheless,  to  vacillate, 
as  opportunity  of  advantage,  joined  with 
the  hatred  of  the  Queen,  (sister  of  Marie 
Antoinette.)  or  the  fear  of  the  French  mili- 
tary superiority  seemed  to  predominate. 

The  storm  now  thickened  round  the  devot- 
ed head  of  the  Pope.     Ferraraand  Bologna, 


the  territories  of  which  belonged  to  the  Ho- 
ly See, were  occupied  by  the  French  troops. 
In  the  latter  place,  four  hundred  of  the  Papal 
troops  were  made  prisoners,  with  a  cardinad 
who  acted  as  their  officer.  The  latter  was 
dismissed  on  his  parole.  But  when  sum- 
moned to  return  to  the  French  head-quar- 
ters, his  Eminence  declined  to  obey,  and 
amused  the  Republican  officers  a  good  deal, 
by  alleging  that  the  Pope  had  dispensed 
with  his  engagement.  Afterwards,  howev- 
er, there  were  officers  of  no  mean  rank  in 
the  French  service,  who  could  contrive  to 
extricate  themselves  from  the  engagement 
of  a  parole,  without  troubling  the  Pope  for 
his  interference  on  the  occasion.  Influ- 
enced by  the  approaching  danger,  the  Court 
of  Rome  sent  Azara,  the  Spanish  minister, 
with  full  power  to  treat  for  an  armistice. 
It  was  a  remarkable  part  of  Buonaparte'a 
character,  that  he  knew  as  well  when  to 
forbear  as  when  to  strike.  Rome,  it  was 
true,  was  an  enemy  whom  France,  or  at 
least  its  present  rulers,  both  hated  and  de- 
spised, but  the  moment  was  then  inoppor- 
tune for  the  prosecution  of  their  resent- 
ment. To  have  detached  a  sufficient  force 
in  that  direction,  would  have  weakened  the 
French  army  in  the  nortli  of  Italy,  where 
fresh  bodies  of  German  troops  were  already 
arriving,  and  might  have  been  attended  wita 
great  ultimate  risk,  since  there  was  a  possi- 
bility that  the  English  might  have  trans- 
ported to  Italy  the  forces  which  they  wera 
about  to  withdraw  from  Corsica,  amounting 
to  six  thousand  men.  But  though  these 
considerations  recommended  to  Napoleon 
a  negotiation  with  the  Pope,  his  Holiness 
was  compelled  to  purchase  the  armistice 
at  a  severe  rate.  Twenty-one  millions  of 
francs,  in  actual  specie,  with  large  contri- 
butions in  forage  and  military  stores,  the 
cession  of  Ancona,  Bologna,  and  Ferrara, 
not  forgetting  one  hundred  of  the  finest 
pictures,  statues,  and  similar  objects  of  art, 
to  be  selected  according  to  the  choice  of 
the  committee  of  artists  who  attended  the 
French  army,  were  the  price  of  a  respite 
which  was  not  of  long  duration.  It  waa 
particularly  stipulated,  with  Republican  os- 
tentation, that  the  busts  of  the  elder  and 
younger  Brutus  were  to  be  among  the  num- 
ber of  ceded  articles ;  and  it  was  in  thia 
manner  that  Buonaparte  made  good  his 
vaunt  of  establishing  in  the  Roman  capitol 
the  statues  of  the  illustrious  and  classical 
dead. 

The  Arch-Duke  of  Tuscany  was  next  to 
undergo  the  republican  discipline.  It  ia 
true,  that  prince  had  given  no  offence  to 
the  French  Republic  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
had  claims  of  merit  with  them,  from  having 
been  the  very  first  power  in  Europe  who 
acknowledged  them  as  a  legal  government, 
and  having  ever  since  been  in  strict  amity 
with  them.  It  seemed  also,  that  while  jus- 
tice required  he  should  be  spared,  the 
interest  of  tlve  French  themselves  did  not 
oppose  the  conclusion.  His  country  could 
have  no  influence  on  the  fate  of  the  im- 
pending war,  being  situated  on  the  western 
side  of  the  Appenines.  In  these  circum- 
stances, to  have   seized   on   his  museum 


236 


LIFE  OF  JSAPOLEOiV  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXIIL 


however  tempting,  or  made  requisitions  on 
his  territories,  would  have  appeared  unjust 
towards  the  earliest  ally  of  the  Frencli  Ko- 
public  ;  so  Buonaparte  contented  himself 
with  seizing  on  the  Grand  Duke's  sea-port 
of  Leghorn,  confiscating  the  English  goods 
which  his  subjects  had  imported,  and  cn- 
lirely  ruining  the  once  flourishing  coni- 
n>erce  of  the  Dukedom.  It  was  a  principal 
object  with  the  French  to  seize  the  British 
merchant  vessels,  who,  confiding  in  tlie  re- 
Epect  due  to  a  neutral  power,  were  lying 
in  great  numbers  in  the  harbour;  but  the 
English  merchantmen  had  such  early  in- 
telligence as  enEibled  them  to  set  sail  for 
Corsica,  although  a  very  great  quantity  of 
valuable  goods  fell  into  the  possession  of 
the  French. 

While  the  French  general  was  thus  vio- 
lating the  neutrality  of  the  Grand  Duke, 
occupying  by  surprise  his  valuable  seaport, 
and  destroying  the  commerce  of  his  state, 
the  unhappy  prince  was  compelled  to  re- 
ceive him  at  Florence,  with  all  the  respect 
due  to  a  valued  friend,  and  profess  the  ut- 
most obligation  to  him  for  his  lenity,  while 
Manfredini,  the  Tuscan  minister,  endeav- 
oured to  throw  a  veil  of  decency  over  the 
transactions  at  Leghorn,  by  allowing  that 
the  English  were  more  masters  in  that  port 
than  was  the  Grand  Duke  himself.  Buon- 
^arte  disdained  to  have  recourse  to  any 
paltry  apologies.  "  The  French  flag,"  he 
eaid,  "  has  been  insulted  in  Leghorn — You 
are  not  strong  enough  to  cause  it  to  be  re- 
spected. The  Directory  has  commanded  me 
to  occupy  the  place."  Shortly  after,  Buona- 
parte, during  an  entertainment  given  to  him 
oy  the  Grand  Duke  at  Florence,  receiv- 
ed intelligence  that  the  citadel  of  Milan 
l)ad  at  length  surrendered.  He  rubbed  his 
bands  with  self-congratulation,  and  turning 
to  the  Grand  Duke,  observed,  "  that  the 
Emperor,  his  brother,  had  now  lost  his  last 
possession  in  Lombardy." 

When  we  read  of  the  exactions  and  in- 
dignities to  which  the  strong  reduce  the 
weak,  it  is  impossible  not  to  remember  the 
simile  cf  Napoleon  himself,  who  compared 
the  alliance  of  France  and  an  inferior  state, 
to  a  giant  embracing  a  dwarf.  "  The  poor 
dwarf,"  he  added,  "  may  probably  be  suffo- 
cated in  the  arms  of  his  friend;  but  the 
giant  does  not  mean  it,  and  cannot  help  it." 

While  Buonaparte  made  truce  with  sev- 
eral of  the  old  states  in  Italy,  or  rather  ad- 
journed their  destruction  in  consideration 
of  large  contributions,  he  was  far  from  los- 
ing sight  of  the  main  object  of  the  French 
Directory,  which  was  to  cause  the  adjacent 
governments  to  be  revolutionized  and  new- 
modelled  on  a  republican  form,  correspond- 
ing to  that  of  the  Great  Nation  herself. 

This  scheme  was,  in  every  respect,  an 
exceedingly  artful  one.  In  every  state 
which  the  French  migbt  overrun  or  con- 
quer, there  must  occur,  as  we  have  already 
repeatedly  noticed,  men  fitted  to  form  the 
members  of  revolutionary  government,  and 
who,  from  their  previous  situation  and  hab- 
its, must  necessarily  be  found  eager  to  do 
so.  Such  men  are  sure  to  be  supported  by 
the  rabble  of  large  towns,  who  are  attract- 


ed by  the  prospect  of  plunder,  and  by  the 
splendid  promises  of  liberty,  which  they 
always  understand  as  promising  the  equali- 
zation of  property.  Thus  provided  with 
materials  for  their  edifice,  the  bayonets  of 
the  French  army  were  of  strength  sufficient 
to  prevent  the  task  from  being  interrupted, 
and  the  French  Republic  had  soon  to  greet 
sister  states,  under  the  government  oilmen 
who  lield  their  offices  by  the  pleasure  of 
France,  and  who  were  obliged,  therefore,  to 
comply  with  all  her  requisitions,  however 
unreasonable. 

This  arrangement  afforded  the  French 
government  an  opportunity  of  deriving  ev- 
ery advantage  from  the  subordinate  repub- 
lics, which  could  possibly  be  drained  out  of 
them,  without  at  the  same  time  incurring 
the  odium  of  making  the  exactions  in  their 
own  name.  It  is  a  custom  in  some  coun- 
tries, when  a  cow  who  has  lost  her  calf  will 
not  yield  her  milk  freely,  to  place  be- 
fore the  refractory  animal  the  skin  of  her 
young  one  stuffed,  so  as  to  have  some  re- 
semblance to  life.  The  cow  is  deceived 
by  this  imposture,  and  yields  to  be  milked 
upon  seeing  this  representative  of  her  oflT- 
spring.  In  like  manner,  the  show  of  in- 
dependence assigned  to  the  Batavian,  and 
other  associated  republics,  enabled  France 
to  drain  these  countries  of  supplies,  which, 
while  they  had  the  appearance  of  being 
given  to  the  governments  of  those  who 
granted  the  supplies,  passed,  in  fact,  into 
the  hands  of  their  engrossing  ally.  Buon- 
aparte was  sufficiently  aware  that  it  was  ex- 
pected from  him  to  extend  the  same  system 
to  Italy,  and  to  accelerate,  in  the  conquer- 
ed countries  of  that  fertile  land,  this  spe- 
cies of  political  regeneration  ;  but  it  would 
appear  that,  upon  the  whole,  he  thoughtthe 
soil  scarcely  prepared  for  a  republican  har- 
vest. He  mentions,  no  doubt,  that  the  na- 
tives of  Bologna  and  Reggio,  and  other 
districts,  were  impatient  to  unite  with  the 
French  as  allies,  and  intimate  friends  ;  but 
even  these  expressions  are  so  limited  as  to 
make  it  plain  that  the  feelings  of  the  Ital- 
ians in  general  were  not  as  yet  favourable 
to  that  revolution  which  the  Directory  de- 
sired, and  which  he  endeavoured  to  for- 
ward. 

He  had,  indeed,  in  all  his  proclamationa, 
declared  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  invaded 
countries,  that  his  war  was  not  waged  with 
them  but  with  their  governments,  and  had 
published  the  strictest  orders  for  the  disci- 
pline to  be  observed  by  his  followers.  But 
though  this  saved  the  inhabitants  from  im- 
mediate violence  at  the  hand  of  the  French 
soldiery,  it  did  not  diminish  the  weight  of 
the  requisitions  with  which  the  country  at 
large  was  burthened,  and  to  which  poor  and 
rich  had  to  contribute  their  share.  They 
were  pillaged  with  regularity,  and  by  or- 
der, but  they  were  not  the  less  pillaged; 
and  Buonaparte  himself  has  informed  us 
that  the  necessity  of  maintaining  the  French 
army  at  their  expense  very  much  retarded 
the  march  of  French  principles  in  Italy. 
"  You  cannot,"  he  says,  with  much  truth, 
"  at  the  same  moment  strip  a  people  of 
tlieir  substance,  and  persuade  them  while 


Chap.  XXin.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


237 


doing  so,  that  you  are  their  friend  and  ben- 
efactor." 

He  mentions  also,  in  the  Saint  Helena 
manuscripts,  the  regret  expressed  by  the 
■wise  and  philosophical  part  of  the  commu- 
nity, that  the  revolution  of  Rome,  the  source 
and  director  of  superstitious  opinions,  had 
not  been  commenced;  but  frankly  admits 
that  the  time  was  not  come  for  going  to 
each  extremities,  and  that  he  was  content- 
ed with  plundering  the  Roman  See  of  its 
money  and  valuables,  waiting  uatil  the  fit 
moment  should  arrive  of  totally  destroying 
that  ancient  hierarchy. 

It  was  not  without  difficulty  that  Buona- 
parte could  bring  the  Directory  to  under- 
stand and  relish  these  temporising  meas- 
ures. They  had  formed  a  false  idea  of  the 
country,  and  of  the  slate  and  temper  of  the 
people,  and  were  desirous  at  once  to  revo- 
lutionize Rome,  Naples,  and  Tuscany. 

Napoleon,  more  prudently,  left  these  ex- 
tensive regions  under  the  direction  of  their 
old  and  feeble  governments,  whom  he  com- 
pelled in  the  interim  to  supply  him  with 
money  and  contributions,  in  exchange  for  a 
protracted  existence,  which  he  intended  to 
destroy  so  soon  as  the  fit  opportunity  should 
offer  itself  What  may  be  tliought  of  this 
policy  in  diplomacy,  we  pretend  not  to  say  ; 
but  in  private  life  it  would  be  justly  brand- 
ed as  altogether  infamous.  In  point  of  mo- 
rality, it  resembles  the  conduct  of  a  robber, 
who,  having  exacted  the  surrender  of  the 
traveller's  property,  as  a  ransom  for  his 
life,  concludes  his  violence  by  murder.  It 
is  alleged,  and  we  have  little  doubt  with 
truth,  that  the  Pope  was  equally  insincere, 
and  straggled  only,  by  immediate  submis- 
sion, to  prepare  for  the  hour,  when  the 
Austrians  should  strengthen  their  power  in 
Italv.  But  it  is  the  duty  of  the  historifin 
loudly  to  proclaim,  that  the  bad  faith  of  one 
party  in  a  treaty  forms  no  excuse  for  that 
of  the  other ;  and  that  national  contracts 
ought  to  be,  especially  on  the  stronger  side, 
as  pure  in  their  intent,  and  executed  as 
rigidly,  as  if  those  with  whom  they  were 
contracted  were  held  to  be  equally  sincere 
in  their  proposition.  If  the  more  powerful 
party  judge  otherwise,  the  means  are  in 
their  hand  to  continue  the  war ;  and  they 
ought  to  encounter  their  more  feeble  ene- 
my by  detection,  and  punishment  of  his 
fraud,  not  by  anticipating  the  same  dcceit- 
^ful  course  whicli  their  opponent  has  resort- 
ed to  in  the  consciousness  of  his  weakness, 
— like  a  hare  which  doubles  before  the 
hounds  when  she  has  no  other  hope  of  es- 
cape. It  will  be  well  with  the  world, 
when  falsehood  and  finesse  are  as  thorough- 
ly exploded  in  international  communica- 
tion, as  they  are  among  individuals  in  all 
civilized  countries. 

But  though  those  states,  whose  sove- 
reigns could  afford  to  pay  for  forbearance, 
were  suffered  for  a  time  to  remain  under 
their  ancient  governments,  it  mi^t  have 
"been  thought  tliat  Lombardy,  from  which  the 
Austrians  had  been  almost  totally  driven, 
and  where,  of  course,  there  was  no  one  to 
compound  with  on  the  part  of  the  old  gov- 
ernment, would  have  been  made  an  excep- 


tion. Accordingly,  the  French  faction  in 
these  districts,  with  all  the  numerous  class 
who  were  awakened  by  the  hope  of  nation- 
al independence,  expected  impatiently  th« 
declaration  of  their  freedom  from  the  Aus- 
trian yoke,  and  their  erection,  under  the 
protection  of  France,  into  a  republic  on  th« 
same  model  with  that  of  the  Great  Nation. 
But  although  Buonaparte  encouraged  men 
who  held  these  opinions,  and  writers  who 
supported  tliem,  he  had  two  weighty  reasons 
for  procrastinating  on  this  point.  First,  if 
France  manumitted  Lombardy,  and  convert- 
ed her  from  a  conquered  province  into  an 
ally,  she  must  in  consistency  have  abstain- 
ed from  demanding  of  the  liberated  country 
those  supplies,  by  which  Buonaparte's  army 
was  entirely  paid  and  supported.  Agam,  if 
this  difficulty  could  be  got  over,  there  re- 
mained the  secret  purpose  of  the  Directory 
to  be  considered.  They  had  determined, 
when  they  should  make  peace  with  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria,  to  exact  the  cession  of 
Belgium  and  the  territory  of  Luxembourg, 
as  provinces  lying  convenient  to  France, 
and  had  resolved,  that  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, they  would  even  give  up  Lom- 
bardy again  to  his  dominion,  rather  than  not 
obtain  these  more  desirable  objects.  To 
erect  a  new  republic  in  the  country  which 
thej'  were  prepared  to  restore  to  its  former 
sovereign,  would  have  been  to  throw  a  bar 
in  the  way  of  their  own  negotiation.  Buon- 
aparte had  therefore  the  difficult  task  of  at 
once  encouraging,  on  the  part  of  the  repub- 
licans of  Lombardy,  the  principles  which 
induced  them  to  demand  a  separate  govern- 
ment, and  of  soothing  them  to  expect  with 
patience  events,  which  he  was  secretly  con- 
scious might  possibly  never  come  to  pass. 
The  final  issue  shall  be  told  elsewhere.  It 
may  be  just  necessary  to  observe,  that  the 
conduct  of  the  French  towards  the  republi- 
cans whom  they  had  formed  no  pre-deter- 
mination  to  support,  was  as  uncandid  as  to- 
wards the  ancient  governments  whom  they 
treated  with.  They  sold  to  the  latter  false 
hopes  of  security,  and  encouraged  the  for- 
mer to  express  sentiments  and  opinions, 
which  must  have  exposed  them  to  ruin,  in 
case  of  the  restoration  of  Lombardy  to  its 
old  rulers,  an  event  which  the  Directory  all 
along  contemplated  in  secret.  Such  is,  in 
almost  all  cases,  the  risk  incurred  by  a  do- 
mestic faction,  who  trust  to  carry  their  pe- 
culiar objects  in  the  bosom  of  their  own 
country  by  means  of  a  foreign  nation.  Their 
too  powerful  auxiliaries  are  ever  ready  to 
sacrifice  them  to  their  own  views  of  emolu- 
ment. 

Having  noticed  the  effect  of  Buonaparte's 
short  but  brilliant  campaign  on  other  states, 
we  must  observe  the  effects  which  his  vic- 
tories produced  on  Austria  herself.  These 
were  entirely  consistent  with  her  national 
character.  The  same  tardiness  which  has 
long  made  the  government  of  Austria  slow 
in  availing  themselves  of  advantageous. cir- 
cumstances, cautious  in  their  plans,  and  un- 
willing to  adopt,  or  indeed  to  study  to  com- 
prehend, a  new  system  of  tactics,  even  af- 
ter having  repeatedly  experienced  its  terrible 
efficacies,  ia  combined  with  the  better  qjial- 


238 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  {Chap.  XXIIL 


ities  of  firm  determination,  resolute  endur- 
ance, and  unquenchable  spirit.  The  Aus- 
trian slowness  and  obstinacy,  which  have 
aometimes  threatened  them  with  ruin,  have, 
on  the  other  hand,  often  been  compensated 
by  their  firm  perseverance  and  courage  in 
adversity. 

Upon  the  present  occasion,  Austria  show- 
ed ample  demonstration  of  the  various 
qualities  we  have  ascribed  to  her.  The 
rapid  and  successive  victories  of  Buona- 
parte, appeared  to  her  only  the  rash  flight 
of  an  eaglet,  whose  juvenile  audacity  had 
over-estimated  the  strength  of  his  pinion. 
The  Imperial  Council  resolved  to  sustain 
their  diminished  force  in  Italy,  with  such 
reinforcements  as  might  enable  them  to  re- 
assume  the  complete  superiority  over  tlie 
French,  though  at  the  risk  of  weakening 
their  armies  on  the  Rhine.  Fortune  in  that 
quarter,  though  of  a  various  complexion, 
had  been  on  the  whole  more  advantageous 
to  the  Austrians  than  elsewhere,  and  seem- 
ed to  authorize  tlie  detaching  considerable 
reinforcements  from  the  eastern  frontier, 
on  which  they  had  been  partially  victori- 
ous, to  Italy,  where,  since  Buonaparte  had 
descended  from  the  Alps,  they  had  been 
uniformly  unfortunate. 

Beaulieu,  aged  and  unlucky,  was  no  long- 
ef  considered  as  a  fit  opponent  to  his  inven- 
tive, young,  and  active  adversary.  He  was 
as  full  of  displeasure,  it  is  said,  against  the 
Aulic  Council,  for  the  associates  whom 
they  had  assigned  him,  as  they  could  be 
with  him  for  his  bad  success.*     He  was  re- 


*  The  following  letter  appears  in  the  journals 
(w  an  intercepted  despatch  from  Beaulieu  to  the 
Aulic  Council  of  War.  It  is  perhaps  suppositious, 
but  seciTii?  worthy  of  preservation  a^f  expressing  tlie 
irritated  feelings  with  which  the  veteran  general 
was  certainly  affected,  whether  he  wrote  the  letter 
in  question  or  not.  It  will  bo  recollected,  that 
D'Argcnteau,  of  whom  he  complains,  was  the 
Cfluse  of  his  original  misfortunes  at  Monte  Notto. 
See  p.  yiy.  "  I  asked  you  for  a  General,  and  you 
have  sent  me  Argenteau. — I  am  quite  aware  that 
he  is  a  groat  lord,  and  that  he  is  to  be  created 
Field-marshal  of  the  Empire,  to  atone  for  my  hav- 
ing placed  him  under  arrest. — I  apprize  you  that  I 
have  no  more  than  tnenty  thousand  men  remain- 
ing, and  that  the  French  are  sixty  thousand  strong. 
I  apprize  you  farther,  that  I  will  retreat  to-mor- 
row— ne.Tt  day — :he  day  after  that — and  every  day 
— «V0B  t»  Siberia  itself,  if  they  pursue  rae  so  far. 


called,  therefore,  in  tliat  species  of  disgrace 
wliich  misfortune  never  fails  to  infer,  and 
tlie  command  of  his  remaining  forces,  now 
drawn  back  and  secured  within  the  passes 
of  the  Tyrol,  was  provisionally  assigned  to 
the  veteran  Melas. 

Meanwhile  VVurmser,  accounted  one  of  the 
best  of  the  Austrian  generals,  was  ordered  to 
place  himself  at  the  head  of  thirty  thousand 
men  from  the  imperial  forces  on  the  Rhine, 
and,  traversing  the  Tyrol,  and  collecting 
what  recruits  he  could  in  that  warlike  dis- 
trict, to  assume  the  command  of  the  Aus- 
trian army,  which,  expelled  from  Italy,  now 
lay  upon  its  frontiers,  and  might  be  suppos- 
ed eager  to  resume  their  national  suprema- 
cy in  the  fertile  climates  out  of  which  they 
had  been  so  lately  driven. 

Aware  of  the  storm  which  was  gathering, 
Buonaparte  made  every  possible  effort  to 
carry  Mantua  before  arrival  of  the  formida- 
ble Austrian  army,  whose  first  operation 
would  doubtless  be  to  raise  the  siege  of 
that  important  place.  .\  scheme  to  take 
tlie  city  and  castle  by  surprise,  by  a  detach- 
ment which  should  pass  to  the  Seraglio,  or 
islet  on  which  Mantua  is  situated,  by  night 
and  in  boats,  having  totally  failed,  Buona- 
parte was  compelled  to  open  trenches,  and 
proceed,  as  by  regular  siege.  The  Austrian 
general.  Canto  D'Irles,  when  summoned  to 
surrender  it,  replied  that  his  orders  were  to 
defend  the  place  to  extremity.  Napoleon, 
on  his  side,  assembled  all  the  battering  ord- 
nance which  could  be  collected  from  the 
walls  of  the  neighbouring  cities  and  fortress- 
es, and  the  attack  and  defence  commenced 
in  tlie  most  vigorous  manner  on  both  sides  ; 
the  French  making  every  eflbrt  to  reduce 
the  city  before  Wurmser  should  open  liia 
campaign,  the  governor  determined  to  pro- 
tract his  resistance,  if  possible,  until  he 
was  relieved  by  the  advance  of  that  gener- 
al. But  although  red-hot  balls  were  ex- 
pended in  profusion,  and  several  desperate 
and  bloody  assaults  and  sallies  took  place, 
many  more  battles  were  to  be  fought,  and 
much  more  blood  expended,  before  Buona- 
parte was  fated  to  succeed  in  this  impor- 
tant object. 


My  age  gives  me  right  to  speak  out  the  truth. 
Hasten  to  make  peace  on  any  conditions  whatso- 
ever."—Jfonifeur,  1796.  Jfo  969 


Chap.  XXIV^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


239 


CHAP.  XZIV. 

Campaign  on  the  Rhine. —  General  Plan. —  Wartenslebtn  and  the  Archduke  Charlei  re- 
tire  be/ore  Jourdan  and  Moreau. —  The  Archduke  forms  a  junction  with  Wartentle- 
ben,  and  defeats  Jourdan,  who  retires — Moreau,  also,  makes  his  celebrated  Retreat 
through  the  Black  Forest. — Buonaparte  raises  the  siege  of  Mantua,  and  defeats  th* 
Axistrians  at  Salo  and  Lonato. — Misbehaviour  of  the  French  General,  Valette,  at 
Castiglione. — Lonato  taken,  with  the  French  Artillery,  on  3d  August. — Retaken  by 
Massena  and  Augereau. — Singular  escape  of  Buonaparte  from  being  captured  at  Lo- 
nato.—  Wumiser  defeated  between  Lonato  and  Castiglione,  and  retreats  on  Trent  and 
Roveredo. — Buonaparte  resiitnes  his  position  before  Mantua. — Effects  of  the  French 
Victories  on  the  different  Italian  States. — Inflexibility  of  Austria. —  H^urmser  recruit- 
ed.— Battle  of  Roveredo. — French  victorious,  and  Massena  occupies  Trent. — Buona- 
parte defeats  Wurmser  at  Primolano — and  at  Bassano,  8th  September. —  Wurmaer 
flies  to  Vicenza. — Battle  of  Areola. —  Wurmser  finally  shut  up  within  the  walls  of 
Mantua. 


The  reader  must,  of  course,  be  aware,  that 
Italy,  through  whicli  we  are  following  the 
victorious  career  of  Napoleon,  was  not  the 
only  scene  of  war  between  Austria,  but  tliat 
a  field  of  equally  strenuous  and  much  more 
doubtful  contest  was  opened  upon  the 
Rhine,  where  the  high  military  talents  of  the 
Archduke  Charles  were  opposed  to  those  of 
Moreau  and  Jourdan,  the  French  generals. 

The  plan  which  the  Directory  had  adopt- 
ed for  the  campaign  of  1796  was  of  a  gi- 
trantic  cliaracter,  and  menaced  Austria, 
their  mo?t  powerful  enemy  upon  the  con- 
tinent, with  nothing  short  of  total  destruc- 
tion. It  was  worthy  of  the  genius  of  Car- 
not.  by  whom  it  was  formed,  and  of  Napo- 
leon and  Moreau,  by  whom  it  had  been  re- 
vised and  approved.  Under  sanction  of 
this  general  plan,  Buonaparte  regulated 
the  Italian  campaign  in  which  he  had  prov- 
ed so  successful  ;  and  it  had  been  schemed, 
that  to  allow  Austria  no  breathing  space, 
Moreau,  with  the  army  of  the  Sarabre  and 
Meuse,  should  press  forward  on  the  eastern 
frontier  of  Germany,  supported  on  the  left 
by  Jourdan,  at  the  head  of  the  army  of  the 
Rhine,  and  that  both  generals  should  con- 
tinue t»  advance,  until  Moreau  should  be 
in  a  position  to  communicate  witli  Buona- 
pau-te  througli  the  Tyrol.  When  this  junc- 
tion of  the  whole  forces  of  France,  in  the 
centre  of  the  .-Xustrian  dominions,  was  ac- 
complished, it  was  Carnofs  ultimate  plan 
that  they  should  advance  upon  \'ienna,  and 
dictate  peace  to  tlic  Emperor  under  the 
walls  of  his  capital. 

Of  this  great  project,  the  part  entrusted 
to  Buonaparte  was  completely  executed, 
and  for  some  time  tlie  fortune  of  war  seem- 
ed equally  auspicious  to  France  upon  the 
Rhine  as,  in  Italy.  Moreau  and  Jourdan 
crosK'.d  that  great  national  boundary  at 
Neuwied  and  Kelil,  and  moved  eastward 
through  (iermany,  forming  a  connected 
front  of  more  than  sixty  leagues  in  breadth, 
nntil  Moreau  had  actually  crossed  the  riv- 
er Leek,  and  was  almost  touching  with  his 
right  flnnk  the  passes  of  the  Tyrol,  through 
which  he  was,  according  to  the  plan  of  the 
campaign,  to  have  communicated  with 
Buonaparte. 

During  this  advance  of  two  hostile  ar- 
mies, amounting  eac!»  to  seventy-five  thou- 
und  men,  which  filled  all  Germany  with 


consternation,  the  Austrian  leader,  War- 
tensleben  was  driven  from  position  to  po- 
sition by  Jourdan,  while  the  Archduke 
Charles  was  equally  unable  to  maintain  his 
ground  before  Moreau.  The  Imperial 
generals  were  reduced  to  this  extremity 
by  the  loss  of  the  army,  consisting  of  from 
thirty  to  thirty-five  thousand  men,  who  had 
been  detached  under  Wurmser  to  support 
the  remains  of  Beaulieu's  forces,  and  rein- 
state the  Austrian  affairs  in  Italy,  and  who 
were  now  on  their  march  through  the  Ty 
rol  for  that  purpose.  But  the  Archduke 
was  an  excellent  and  enterprising  officer, 
and  at  this  important  period  he  saved  the 
empire  of  Austria  by  a  bold  and  decided 
mancBuvre.  Leaving  a  large  part  of  his  ar- 
my to  make  head  against  INIoreau,  or  at  least 
to  keep  him  in  check,  the  Archduke  moved 
to  the  right  with  the  rest,  so  as  to  form 
a  junction  with  Wartensleben,  and  over- 
whelm Jourdan  with  a  local  superiority  of 
numbers,  being  the  very  principle  on  which 
the  French  themselves  achieved  so  many 
victories.  Jourdan  was  totally  defeated, 
and  compelled  to  make  a  hasty  and  disor- 
derly retreat,  which  was  rendered  disas- 
trous by  the  insurrection  of  the  German 
peasantry  around  his  fugitive  army.  Mo- 
reau, also  unable  to  maintain  himself  in  the 
heart  of  Germany,  when  Jourdan,  with  the 
army  which  covered  his  left  flank,  was  de- 
feated, was  likewise  under  the  necessity  of 
retiring,  but  conducted  his  retrograde  move- 
ment with  such  dexterity,  that  his  retreat 
through  the  Black  Forest,  where  the  Aub- 
trians  hoped  to  cut  him  off,  has  been  al- 
ways judged  worthy  to  be  compared  to  a 
great  victory.  Such  were  the  proceedings 
on  the  Rhine,  and  in  the  interior  of  Germa- 
ny, which  must  be  kept  in  view  as  influenc- 
ing, at  first  by  the  expected  success  of  Mo- 
reau and  Jourdan,  and  afterwards  by  their 
actual  failure,  the  movements  of  the  Ital- 
ian army. 
As  the  divisions  of  Wurmaer's  army  be- 
1  gan  to  arrive  on  the  Tyrolese  district  of 
Trent,  where  the  Austrian  general  had  fixed 
his  head-quarters,  Buonaparte  became  ur- 
gent, cither  that  reinforcements  should 
be  despatched  to  him  from  France,  or  that 
the  armies  on  the  Rhine  should  mtike  such 
a  movement  in  advance  towards  the  point 
where  Ihey  might  co-operite  with  him,  aa 


240 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXIV. 


had  been  agreed  upon  at  arranging  the  origi- 
nal plan  of  the  campaign.  But  he  obtained 
no  succours  ;  and  though  the  campaign  on 
the  Rhine  commenced,  as  ws  have  seen,  in 
the  month  of  June,  yet  that  period  was  too 
late  to  afford  any  diversion  in  favour  of  Na- 
poleon, Wurmser  and  his  whole  reinforce- 
ments being  already  either  by  that  time  ar- 
rived, or  on  the  point  of  arriving,  at  the 
place  where  they  were  to  commence  opera- 
tions against  the  French  army  of  Italy. 

The  thunder-cloud  which  had  been  so 
long  blackening  on  the  mountains  of  the 
Tyrol,  seemed  now  about  to  discharge  its 
fury.  Wurmser,  having  under  his  com- 
mand perhaps  eighty  thousand  men,  was 
about  to  march  from  Trent  against  the 
French,  whose  forces,  amounting  to  scarce 
half  so  many,  were  partly  engaged  in  the 
siege  of  Mantua,  and  partly  dispersed  in 
tlie  towns  and  villages  on  the  Adige  and 
Chiese,  for  covering  the  division  of  Serru- 
rier,  which  carried  on  the  siege.  The  Aus- 
trian veteran,  confident  in  his  numbers,  was 
only  anxious  so  to  regulate  his  advance,  as 
to  derive  the  most  conclusive  consequen- 
ces from  the  victory  which  he  doubted  not 
to  obtain.  With  an  imprudence  which  the 
misfortunes  of  Beaulieu  ought  to  have  warn- 
ed him  against,  he  endeavoured  to  occupy 
with  the  divisions  of  his  army  so  large  an 
extent  of  country,  as  rendered  it  very  diffi- 
cult for  them  to  maintain  their  communica- 
tions with  each  other.  This  was  particu- 
larly the  case  with  his  left  wing  under 
Quasdoniowich,  the  Prince  of  Reuss,  and 
General  Ocskay,  viho  were  detached  down 
fhe  valley  of  the  river  Chiese,  with  orders 
to  direct  their  march  on  Brescia.  This 
division  was  destined  to  occupy  Brescia, 
and  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  French  in  the 
direction  of  Milan.  The  left  wing  of 
Wurmser's  army,  under  Melas,  was  to  de- 
scend the  Adige  by  both  banks  at  once,  and 
raanosuvre  on  Verona,  while  the  centre, 
commanded  by  the  Austrian  Field-marshal 
in  person,  was  to  march  southward  by  the 
left  bank  of  the  Lago  di  Guarda,  take  pos- 
&o«sion  of  Peschiera,  which  the  French  Oc- 
cupied, and,  descending  the  Mincio,  re- 
lieve the  siege  of  Mantua.  There  was 
this  radical  error  in  the  Austrian  plan,  that, 
by  sending  Quasdonowich's  division  by  the 
valley  of  Chiese,  Wurmser  placed  the 
broad  lake  of  (Juarda,  occupied  by  a  French 
flotilla,  between  his  right  wing  and  the  rest 
of  his  army,  and  of  course  made  it  impos- 
Bible  for  the  centre  and  left  to  support 
Quasdonowich,  or  even  to  have  intelligence 
of  his  motions  or  his  fate. 

The  active  invention  of  Buonaparte,  sure 
as  he  was  to  be  seconrlod  by  the  zeal  and 
rapidity  of  the  French  army,  speedily  de- 
vised the  means  to  draw  advantage  from 
this  dislocation  of  the  Austrian  forces. 
He  resolved  not  to  await  the  arrival  of 
Wurraser  and  Melas,  but,  concentrating  his 
whole  strength,  to  march  into  the  valley  of 
Chiese,  and  avail  himself  of  the  local  su- 
periority thus  obtained,  to  attack  and  over- 
power the  Austrian  division  left  under 
Quasdonowich,  who  was  advancing  on  Bres- 
cia, down  the  eastern  side  of  the  lake.  For 


tliis  purpose  one  great  sacrifice  was  necea 
sary.  The  plan  inevitably  involved  the 
raising  of  the  siege  of  Mantua.  Napoleon 
did  not  hesitate  to  relinquish  this  great  ob- 
ject at  whatever  loss,  as  it  was  bis  uniform 
system  to  sacrifice  all  secondary  views, 
and  to  incur  all  lesser  hazards,  to  secure 
what  he  considered  as  the  main  object  of 
the  campaign.  Serrurier,  who  commanded 
the  blockading  army,  was  hastily  ordered 
to  destroy  as  much  as  possible  of  the  can- 
non and  stores  which  had  been  collected 
v,-ith  so  much  pains  for  the  prosecution  of 
the  siege.  An  hundred  guns  were  abandon- 
ed in  the  trenches,  and  Wurmser,  on  ar- 
riving at  iSIantua,  found  that  Buonaparte 
had  retired  v.ith  a  precipitation  resembling 
that  of  fear. 

On  the  night  of  the  31st  July  this  opera- 
tion took  place,  and,  leaving  the  division 
of  Augereau  at  Borghetto,  and  that  of  Mas- 
sena  at  Peschiera,  to  protect,  while  it  was 
possible,  the  line  of  the  Mincio,  Buona- 
parte rushed,  at  the  head  of  an  army  which 
his  combinations  had  rendered  superior, 
upon  the  right  wing  of  the  Austrians.  which 
had  already  directed  its  march  to  Lonato, 
near  the  bottom  of  the  Lago  di  Guarda,  in 
order  to  approach  the  Mincio,  and  resume 
its  communication  with  Wurmser.  But 
Buonaparte,  placed  by  the  celerity  of  iiis 
movements  between  the  two  hostile  armies, 
defeated  one  division  of  the  Austrian  right 
at  Salo,  upon  tlie  lake,  and  another  at  Lo- 
nato. At  the  same  time,  Augereau  and 
Massena,  leavingjust  enough  of  men  at  their 
posts  of  Borghetto  and  Peschiera  to  main- 
tain a  respectable  defence  against  Wurm- 
ser, made  a  forced  march  to  Brescia,  which 
was  occupied  by  another  division  of  t!ie 
Austrian  right  wing.  But  that  body ,  finding  it- 
self insulated,  and  conceiving  that  the  whole 
French  army  was  debouching  on  them  from 
different  points,  was  already  in  full  retreat 
towards  the  Tyrol,  t'rom  which  it  had  .ad- 
vanced with  the  expectation  of  turning 
Buonaparte's  flank,  and  destroying  his  re- 
treat upon  Milan.  Some  French  troops 
were  left  to  accelerate  their  flight,  and  pre- 
vent their  again  making  head,  while  Mas- 
sena and  Augereau,  rapidly  countermarch- 
ing, returned  to  the  banks  of  the  Mincio  to 
support  their  respective  rear-guards,  which 
they  had  left  at  Borglietto  and  Peschiera,  on 
the  line  of  that  river. 

They  received  intelligence,  however, 
which  induced  then*  to  halt  upon  this 
counter-march.  Both  rear-guards  had  been 
compelled  to  retire  from  the  line  of  the 
Mincio,  of  which  river  the  .\ustrians  had 
forced  the  passage.  The  rear-guard  of 
Massena,  under  CIcneral'i'igeon,  had  fallen 
back  in  good  order,  so  as  to  occupy  Lona* 
to  ;  tliat  of  Augereau  fled  with  precipitation 
and  confusion,  and  failed  to  make  a  stand 
at  Castiglione,  wliich  was  occupied  a  l)}^ 
Austrians,  who  entrenclied  thcmseUea 
there.  Valctte,  the  general  who  commimd 
ed  this  body,  was  derived  of  his  commi»- 
sion  in  presence  of  his  troops  for  misbe- 
haviour, an  example  which  the  gallantry  of 
the  French  generals  rendered  extremely 
infrequent  in  their  service. 


Chap.  XXI  V.'\         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


241 


Wurmscr  became  now  seriously  anxious 
about  the  fate  of  his  right  wing,  and  de- 
termined to  force  a  communication  with 
Quasdonowich  at  all  risks.  But  he  could 
only  attain  the  valley  of  Chiese,  and  the 
right  bank  of  the  Lago  di  Guarda,  by  h#eak- 
ing  a  passage  through  the  divisions  of  Mas- 
sena  and  Augereau.  On  the  3d  of  August, 
at  break  of  day,  two  divisions  of  Austrians, 
who  had  crossed  the  Mincio  in  pursuit  of 
Pigeon  and  Valette,  now  directed  them- 
selves, with  the  most  determined  resolution, 
on  the  French  troops,  in  order  to  clear  the 
way  between  the  commander-in-chief  and 
his  right  wing. 

The  late  rear-guard  of  Massena,  which, 
by  his  counter-march,  had  now  become  his 
advanced-guard,  was  defeated,  and  Lonato, 
the  place  which  they  occupied,  was  taken 
by  the  Austrians,  with  the  French  artillery, 
and  the  general  officer  who  commanded 
them.  But  the  Austrian  general,  thus  far 
successful,  fell  into  the  great  error  of  ex- 
tending his  line  too  much  towards  the  right, 
in  order,  doubtless,  if  possible,  to  turn  the 
French  position  on  their  left  flank,  thereby 
the  sooner  to  open  .a  communication  with 
his  own  troops  on  the  right  bank  of  the  La- 
go  di  Guarda,  to  force  which  had  been  his 
principal  object  in  the  attack.  But  in  tlius 
inanoeuvring  he  weakened  his  centre,  an 
error  of  which  Massena  instantly  availed 
himself.  He  formed  two  strong  columns 
luider  Augereau,  with  which  he  redeemed 
the  victory,  by  breaking  through  and  divid- 
ing the  Austrian  line,  and  retakin;j  Lonato  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet.  The  manoeuTre  is 
indeed  a  simple  one,  and  the  same  by  which, 
ten  years  afterwards.  Buonaparte  gained  the 
battle  of  Austerlitz  ;  but  it  requires  the  ut- 
most promptitude  and  presence  of  mind  to 
seize  the  exact  moment  for  executing  such 
a  daring  measure  to  advantage.  If  it  is  but 
partially  successful,  and  the  enemy  retains 
steadiness,  it  is  very  perilous  ;  since  the 
attacking  column,  instead  of  flanking  the 
broken  divisions  of  the  opposite  line,  may 
be  itself  flanked  by  decided  officers  and  de- 
termined troops,  and  thus  experience  the 
disaster  which  it  was  their  object  to  occa- 
fion  to  the  enemy.  On  the  present  occa- 
sion, the  attack  on  the  centre  completely 
succeeded.  The  Austrians,  finding  their 
line  cut  asunder,  and  their  flanks  pressed 
by  the  victorious  columns  of  the  French, 
fell  into  total  disorder.  Some,  who  were 
farthest  to  the  right,  pushed  forward,  in 
hopes  to  unite  themselves  to  Quasdono- 
wich,  and  what  they  might  find  remaining 
of  the  original  right  wing  ;  but  these  were 
attacked  in  front  by  General  Soret,  who 
had  been  active  in  defeating  Quasdonowich 
upon  the  30th  July,  and  were  at  the  same 
time  pursued  by  another  detachment  of 
the  French,  which  had  broken  through  their 
centre. 

Such  wcj  the  fate  rf  the  Austrian  right  at 
the  battle  of  Lonato,  while  that  of  the  left 
was  no  less  unfavourable.  They  were  at- 
tacked by  .\ugereau  with  the  utmost  brave- 
ry, and  driven  from  Castiglione,  of  which 
they  had  become  masters  by  the  bad  con- 
4uct  of  Valette.  Augereau  achieved  this 
Vol.  L  L 


important  result  at  the  price  of  many  brave 
men's  lives;  but  it  was  always  remembered 
as  an  essential  service  by  Buonaparte,  wh» 
afterwards,  when  such  dignities  came  in 
use,  bestowed  on  .\ugcreau  the  title  of 
Duke  of  Castiglione.  After  their  defeat, 
there  can  be  nothing  imagined  more  con 
fused  or  calamitous  than  the  condition  of 
the  Austrian  divisions,  who,  having  attack- 
ed, without  resting  on  each  other,  foun 
themselves  opposed  and  finally  overwhelm- 
ed by  an  enemy  who  appeared  to  possess 
ubiquity,  simply  from  his  activity  and  pow- 
er of  combining  his  forces. 

A  remarkable  instance  of  their  lamenta- 
ble state  of  disorder  and  confusion,  resem- 
bling in  its  consequences  more  than  one 
example  of  the  same  sort,  occurred  at  Lona- 
to. It  might,  with  any  briskness  of  intelli- 
gence, or  firmness  of  resolution,  have  prov- 
ed a  decisive  advantage  to  their  arms ;  it 
was,  in  its  result,  a  humiliating  illustration, 
how  completely  the  succession  of  bad  for- 
tune had  broken  the  spirit  of  the  Austrian 
soldiers.  The  reader  can  hardly  have  for- 
gotten the  incident  at  the  battle  of  Millesi- 
mo,  when  an  Austrian  column  which  had 
been  led  astray,  retook,  as  if  it  were  by 
chance,  the  important  village  of  Dego  ;*  or 
the  more  recent  instance,  svhen  a  body  of 
Beaulieu's  advanced-guard,  alike  unv.i!- 
tingly,  had  nearly  made  Buonaparte  prison- 
er in  his  quarters. t  The  present  danger 
arose  from  the  same  cause,  the  confusion 
and  want  of  combination  of  the  enemy  : 
and  now,  as  in  the  former  perilous  occur- 
rences, the  very  same  circumstances  which 
brought  on  the  danger,  served  to  ward 
it  oflf. 

A  body  of  four  or  five  thousand  Austri- 
ans, partly  composed  of  those  who  had  been 
cut  off"  at  the  battle  of  Lonato,  partly  nj' 
stragglers  from  Quasdonowich,  received 
information  from  the  peasantry,  that  the 
French  troops,  having  departed  in  every 
direction  to  improve  their  success,  had  on- 
ly left  a  garrison  of  twelve  hundred  men  in 
the  town  of  Lonato.  The  commander  of 
the  division  resolved  instantly  to  take  p<'-- 
session  of  the  town,  and  thus  to  open  \,'\^ 
march  to  the  Mincio,  to  join  Wurmser. 
Now,  it  happened  that  Buonaparte  himself, 
coming  from  Castiglione  with  only  his  pt  it)" 
for  protection,  had  just  entered  Lonato. 
He  was  surprised  when  an  Austrian  ofnc.-i- 
was  brought  before  him  blindfolded,  a.*  i-< 
the  custom  on  such  occasions,  who  sum- 
moned the  French  commandant  of  Lonato 
to  surrender  to  a  superior  force  of  .\u8tri- 
ans,  who,  he  stated,  were  already  forming 
columns  of  attack  to  carry  the  place  by  ir- 
resistible force  of  numbers.  Buonaparte, 
with  admirable  presence  of  mind,  collect- 
ed his  numerous  staff  around  him.  cauaerl 
the  officer's  eyes  to  be  unbandaged,  that  hf- 
might  see  in  whose  presence  he  stood,  and 
upbraided  him  with  the  insolence  of  which 
he  had  been  guilty,  in  bringing  a  summoN-» 
of  surrender  to  the  French  commander-in- 
chief  in  the  middle  of  his  army.  The  cred- 
ulous officer,  recognizing  the  presence  of 


*Seeinge320, 


tSe«  pa^e  'iSi. 


•2^2 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BLOXAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXIV. 


Buonaparte,  and  believing  it  impossible  i 
taut  he  could  be  there,  without  at  least  a  [ 
strong  division  of  his  army,  stammered  out  j 
an  apology,  and  returned  to  persuade  liis  i 
dispirited  commander  to  surrender  himself,  | 
mid  the  four  thousand  men  and  upwards 
whom  he  commanded,  to  the  comparatively 
small  force  which  occupied  Lonato.  They 
grounded  their  arms  accordingly,  to  one- 
fourth  of  their  number,  and  missed  an  in- 
viting and  easy  opportunity  of  carrying 
Buonaparte  prisoner  to  Wurmser's  head- 
quarters. 

The  Austrian  general  himself,  whose 
splendid  array  was  thus  destroyed  in  detail, 
had  been  hitherto  employed  in  revictual- 
ling  Mantua,  and  throwing  in  supplies  of 
every  kind;  besides  which,  a  large  portion 
of  his  army  had  been  detached  in  the  vain 
pursuit  of  Serrurier,  and  the  troops  lately 
engaged  in  the  siege,  who  had  retreated 
towards  Marcaria.  When  Wurmser  learn- 
ed the  disasters  of  his  right  wing,  and  the 
destruction  of  the  troops  despatched  to 
form  a  communication  with  it,  he  sent  to 
recall  the  division  which  we  have  mention- 
ed, and  advanced  against  the  French  posi- 
tion between  Lonato  and  Castiglione,  with 
an  army  still  numerous,  notwithstanding 
the  reverses  which  it  had  sustained.  But 
Buonaparte  had  not  left  the  interval  unim- 
proved. He  had  recalled  Serrurier  from 
iMjrcaria,  to  assail  the  left  wing  and  the 
flank  of  the  Austrian  Field-marshal.  The 
opening  of  Serrurier's  fire  was  a  signal  for 
a  general  attack  on  all  points  of  Wurmser's 
line.  He  was  defeated,  and  nearly  made 
prisoner ;  and  it  was  not  till  after  suffering 
great  losses  in  the  retreat  and  pursuit,  that 
he  gained  with  difficulty  Trent  and  Rove- 
redo,  the  positions  adjacent  to  the  Tyrol, 
from  which  he  had  so  lately  sallied  with 
such  confidence  of  victory.  He  had  lost 
perhaps  one  half  of  his  fine  army,  and  the 
only  consolation  which  remained  was,  that 
he  had  thrown  supplies  into  the  fortress  of 
Mantua.  His  troops  also  no  longer  had  the 
misculine  confidence  which  is  necessary 
to  success  in  war.  They  were  no  longer 
proud  of  themselves  and  of  their  command- 
eers ;  and  those,  especially,  who  had  sus- 
tained so  many  losses  under  Beaulieu, 
could  hardly  be  brought  to  do  their  duty, 
iu  circumstances  where  it  seemed  that 
Destiny  itself  was  fighting  against  them. 

The  Austrians  are  supposed  to  have  lost 
nearly  forty  thousand  men  in  these  disas- 
trous battles.  The  French  must  have  at 
least  suffered  the  loss  of  one  fourtii  of  the 
number,  though  Buonaparte  confesses  only 
to  seven  thousand  men;  and  their  army, 
ilesperately  fatigued  by  so  many  marches, 
fiuci)  constant  fighting,  and  the  hardships 
of  a  campaign,  where  even  the  general  for 
seven  days  never  laid  aside  his  clothes,  or 
look  any  regular  repose,  required  some 
time  to  recover  their  physical  strength. 

Meantime,  Napoleon  resumed  his  posi- 
tion before  Mantua;  but  the  wnnt  of  bat- 
tering cannon,  and  the  commencement  of 
the  unhealthy  heats  of  Autumn,  amid  lakes 
and  itiundations,  besides  the  great  chance 
«i^  a  second  attack  on  the  part  of  Wurmser 


induced  hiin  to  limit  his  measures  to  a  sim 
pie  blockade,  whicli,  however,  was  so  strict 
as  to  retain  the  garrison  within  the  walls  of 
the  place,  and  cut  them  oft'  even  from  the 
islet  called  the  Seraglio. 

The  events  of  this  hurried  campaign 
threw  light  on  the  feelings  of  the  different 
states  of  Italy  Lombardy  in  general  re- 
mained quiet,  and  the  citizens  of  Milan 
seemed  so  well  affiected  to  the  French, 
that  Buonaparte,  after  the  victory  of  Cas- 
tiglione, returned  them  his  thanks  in  name 
of  the  Republic.  But  at  Pavia,  and  else- 
where, a  very  opposite  disposition  was 
evinced  ;  and  at  Ferrara,  the  Cardinal  Mat- 
tel, Archbishop  of  that  town,  made  some 
progress  in  exciting  an  insurrection.  His 
apology,  when  introduced  to  Buonaparte's 
presence  to  answer  for  his  conduct,  consist- 
ed in  uttering  the  single  word,  Peccavi ! 
and  Napoleon,  soothed  by  his  submission, 
imposed  no  punishment  on  him  for  his  of- 
fence, but,  on  the  contrary,  used  his  me- 
diation in  some  negotiations  with  the  court 
of  Rome.  Yet  though  the  Bishop  of  Fer- 
rara, overawed  and  despised,  was  permitted 
to  escape,  the  conduct  of  his  superior,  the 
Pope,  who  had  shown  vacillation  in  bis 
purposes  of  submission  when  he  heard  of 
the  temporary  raising  of  the  siege  of  Man- 
tua, was  carefully  noted  and  remembered 
for  animadversion,  when  a  suitable  moment 
should  occur. 

Nothing  is  more  remarkable,  during  these 
campaigns,  than  the  inflexibility  of  Austria, 
which,  reduced  to  the  extremity  of  dis- 
tress by  the  advance  of  Moreau  and  Jour- 
dan  into  her  territories,  stood  nevertheless 
on  the  defensive  at  every  point,  and  by  ex- 
traordinary exertions  again  recruited  Wurm- 
ser with  fresh  troops,  to  the  amount  of  twen- 
ty thousand  men  ;  which  reinforcement  ena- 
bled that  general,  though  under  no  more 
propitious  star,  again  to  resume  the  offien- 
sive.  by  advancing  from  the  Tyrol.  Wurm- 
ser, with  less  confidence  than  before,  hop- 
ed to  relieve  the  siege  of  Mantua  a  second 
time,  and  at  a  less  desperate  cost,  by  mov- 
ing from  Trent  towards  Mantua,  through 
the  defiles  formed  by  the  river  Brenta. 
This  manoeuvre  lie  proposed  to  execute  with 
thirty  thousand  men,  while  he  left  twenty 
thousand,  under  General  Davidowich,  in  a 
strong  position  at  or  near  Roveredo.  for  the 
purpose  of  covering  the  Tyrol ;  an  invasion 
of  which  district,  on  the  part  of  the  French, 
must  have  added  much  to  the  general  panic 
whicli  already  astounded  Germany,  from 
the  apprehended  advance  of  Moreau  and 
Jourdan  from  the  banks  of  the  Rhine. 

Buonaparte  penetrated  the  design  of  the 
veteran  general,  and  suff'ered  him  without 
disturbance  to  march  towards  Bassano,  up- 
on the  Brenta.  in  order  to  occupy  the  line 
of  operations  on  which  he  intended  to  ma- 
noeuvre, with  the  secret  intention  that  he 
would  himself  assume  the  off'ensive,  and 
overwhelm  Davidowich  as  soon  as  the  dis- 
tance betwixt  them  precluded  a  communi- 
cation betwixt  that  general  and  Wurmser. 
He  left  General  Kilmaine,  an  officer  ot 
Irish  extraction  in  whom  he  reposed  confi- 
dence, with  about  three  thousand  men,  to 


'^ 


aiap.XXIV.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


243 


cover  tlie  siege  of  Mantua,  by  posting  him- 
self under  tlie  walls  of  Verona,  while,  con- 
centrating a  strong  body  of  forces.  Napole- 
on marched  upon  the  town  of  Roveredo, 
situated  in  the  valley  of  the  Adige,  and 
having  in  its  rear  the  strong  position  of  Gal- 
liano. The  town  is  situated  on  the  high 
road  to  Trent,  and  Davidowich  lay  there 
with  twenty-five  thousand  Austrians,  in- 
tended to  protect  the  Tyrol,  while  Wurm- 
ser  moved  down  the  Brenta,  which  runs  in 
the  same  direction  with  the  Adige,  but  at 
about  thirty  miles'  distance,  so  that  no 
communication  for  mutual  support  could 
take  place  between  Wurmser  and  his  lieu- 
tenant-general. It  was  upon  Davidowich 
that  Buonaparte  first  meant  to  pour  his 
thunder. 

The  battle  of  Roveredo,  fought  upon  the 
fourth  of  September,  was  one  of  that  great 
general's  splendid  days.  Before  he  could 
approach  the  town,  one  of  his  divisions 
had  to  force  the  strongly  entrenched  camp 
of  Mori,  where  the  enemy  made  a  despe- 
rate defence.  Another  attacked  the  .\us- 
rians  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Adige, 
(for  the  action  took  place  on  both  sides  of 
the  river,)  until  the  enemy  at  length  re- 
treated, still  fighting  desperately.  Napo- 
leon sent  his  orders  to  General  Dubois,  to 
charge  with  the  first  regiment  of  hussars — 
he  did  so,  and  broke  the  enemy,  but  fell 
mortilly  wounded  with  three  balls.  '•  I 
die,"  he  said,  "  for  the  Republic — bring  me 
but  tidings  that  the  victory  is  certain." 

The  retreating  enemy  were  driven  through 
the  town  of  Roveredo,  without  having  it  in 
their  power  to  make  a  stand.  The  extreme 
strength  of  the  position  of  Galliano  seemed 
to  afford  them  rallying  ground.  The  Adige 
IS  there  bordered  by  precipitous  mountains, 
approaching  so  near  its  course,  as  only  to 
leave  a  pass  of  forty  toises  breadth  between 
the  river  and  the  precipice,  which  opening 
was  defended  by  a  village,  a  castle,  and  a 
strong  defensive  wall  resting  upon  the  rock, 
all  well  garnished  with  artillery.  The 
French,  in  their  enthusiasm  of  victory,  could 
not  be  stopped  even  by   these  obstacles. 


were  amused  with  an  assault  upon  the 
bridge.  Thus  he  drove  them  from  their  po- 
sition, which,  being  the  entrance  of  one  of 
the  chief  defiles  of  the  Tyrol,  it  was  of  im- 
portance to  secure,  and  it  was  occupied  ac- 
cordingly by  Vaubois  with  his  victorious 
division. 

Buonaparte,  in  consequence  of  his  pres- 
ent condition,  became  desirous  to  concili- 
ate the  martial  inhabitants  of  the  Tyrol,  and 
published  a  proclamation,  in  which  he  ex- 
horted them  to  lay  down  their  arms,  and  re- 
turn to  their  homes  ;  assuring  them  of  pro- 
tection against  military  violence,  and  la- 
bouring to  convince  them,  that  they  had 
themselves  no  interest  in  the  war,  which  he 
waged  against  the  Emperor  and  his  govern- 
ment, but  not  against  his  subjects.  That 
his  conduct  might  appear  to  be  of  a  piece 
with  his  reasoning,  Napoleon  issued  an 
edict,  disuniting  the  principality  of  Trent 
from  the  German  empire,  and  annexing  it 
in  point  of  sovereignity  to  the  French  Re- 
public, while  he  intrusted,  or  seemed  to  i.a- 
trust,  the  inhabitants  themselves,  with  the 
power  of  administering  their  own  laws  and 
government. 

Bounties  which  depended  on  the  gift  of 
an  armed  enemy,  appeared  very  suspicious 
to  the  Tyro!ese,  who  were  aware  that  in 
fact  the  order  of  a  French  officer  would  be 
more  effectual  law,  whenever  that  nation 
had  the  power,  than  that  of  any  administra- 
tor of  civil  affairs  whom  they  might  them- 
selves be  permitted  to  choose.  .\s  for  the 
proclamation,  the  French  general  might  aa 
well  have  wasted  his  eloquence  on  the  rocks 
of  the  country.  The  Tyrol,  one  of  thu 
earliest  possessions  of  the  House  of  Aus- 
tria, had  been  uniformly  governed  by  those 
princes  w-ith  strict  respect  to  the  privileges 
of  the  inhabitants,  who  were  possessed  al- 
ready of  complete  personal  freedom.  Se- 
cured in  all  the  immunities  which  were 
necessary  for  their  comfort,  these  sagacious 
peasants  saw  nothing  to  expect  from  the 
hand  of  a  stranger  general,  excepting  what 
Buonaparte  himself  has  termed,  those  vex- 
ations   necessarily  annexed    to  a   country 


Eight  pieces  of  light  artillery  were  brought    which  becomes  the  seat  of  war,  and  which 


forward,  under  cover  of  which  the  infantry 
charged  and  carried  this  strong  position  ;  so 
little  do  natural  advantages  avail  when  the 
minds  of  the  assailants  are  influenced  with 
an  opinion  that  they  are  irresistible,  and 
those  of  the  defenders  are  depressed  by  a 
uniform  and  uninterrupted  course  of  defeat. 
Six  or  seven  thousand  prisoners,  and  fifteen 
pieces  of  cannon  captured,  were  the  fruits 
of  this  splendid  victory  ;  and  Massena  the 


in  more  full  detail,  include  v.'hatevcr  the 
avarice  of  ti;e  general,  the  necessities  of 
tlie  soldiers,  not  to  mention  the  more  vio- 
lent outrage  of  marauders  and  plunderers, 
may  choose  to  exact  from  the  inhabitant?. 
But,  besides  this  prudent  calculation  of 
consequences,  the  Tyrolese  felt  the  gener- 
ous spirit  of  national  independence,  and  re- 
solved that  their  mountains  should  not  be 
dishonoured  by  the  march  of  an  armed  ene- 


next  morning  took  possession  of  Trent  in  i  my,  if  the  unerring  rifle-guns  of  their  chil- 
the  Tyiol,  so  long  the  strong-hold  where  j  dren  were  able  to  protect  their  native  soil 
Wurmser  had  maintained  his  head-quarters,  from  such  indipiity.  Every  mode  of  re- 
The  wrecks  of  Davidowich's  army  fled  I  sistance  was  prepared  ;  and  it  was  then  that 
deeper  into  the  Tyrol,  and  took  up  their  I  those  piles  of  rocks,  stones,  and  trunks  of 
position  Lt  Lavisa,  a  small  village  on  a  riv-  j  trees,  were  collected  on  the  verije  of  the 
er  of  a  similar  name,  about  three  leagues  to  j  precipices  which  line  the  valley  of  the  Inn, 
the  northward  of  Trent,  and  situated  in  the    and  other  passes  of  the  Tvrcl.'  but  which 


principal   road  which  communicates  with 
Brixen  and  Inspruck.     Buonaparte  instant- 
ly pursued  them  with  a  division  of  his  army, 
commanded  by  Vaubois,  and  passed  the  La-    tions  of  the    valiant  Hoffer  ajOil  his    ftom- 
vis^l  with    his    cavalry,  while  the  enemy  I  panions  in  arms. 


remained  in  grim  repose  till  rolled  down,  to 
the  utter  annihilation  of  the  French  and 
Bavarian  invaders  in  1809.  under  the  direo- 


t>44 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXI V. 


More  successful  with  the  swonl  than  the 
[>in,  B'loiiaparte  had  no  sooner  disposed  of 
-Oavidowich  and  his  army,  than  lie  began 
;i!s  operations  against  Wurmser  liiinself, 
who  had  by  this  time  learned  the  total  de- 
feat of  his  subordinate  division,  and  that 
lii(-  French  were  possessed  of  Trent.  The 
Austrian  Field-marshal  immediately  con- 
cieved  that  the  French  general,  in  conse- 
•  (uence  of  his  successes,  would  be  dispos- 
«'d  to  leave  Italy  behind,  and  advance  to  In- 
spruck,  in  order  to  communicate  with  the 
miuies  of  Moreau  and  Jourdan,  which  were 
Tiow  on  the  full  advance  into  Germany. 
Instead,  therefore,  of  renouncing  his  own 
H<;heme  of  relieving  Mantua,  Wurmser 
thought  the  time  favourable  for  carrying  it 
into  execution  ;  and  in  place  of  falling  back 
wiih  his  anny  on  Friuli,  and  thus  keeping 
open  his  communication  with  Vienna,  he 
committed  the  great  error  of  involving  him- 
self still  deeper  in  the  Italian  passes  to  the 
isouthward,  by  an  attempt,  with  a  diminished 
force,  to  execute  a  purpose,  which  he  had 
been  unable  to  accomplish  when  his  army 
was  double  the  strength  of  the  French. 
Witli  this  ill-chosen  plan,  he  detached  Me- 
■/.aros  with  a  division  of  his  forces,  to  ma- 
jMiiuvre  on  Verona,  where,  as  we  have  seen, 
iJuoiiaparte  had  stationed  Kilmaine,  to  cov- 
f.T  the  siege,  or  rather  the  blockade,  of 
Mantua.  Mezaros  departed  accordingly, 
;uid  leaving  Wurmser  at  Bassano  on  the 
Hrenta,  marched  south-westward  towards 
the  collateral  valley  of  the  Adige,  and  at- 
tacked Kilmaine,  who,  by  drawing  his  men 
under  cover  of  the  fortifications  of  Verona, 
made  a  resolute  defence.  The  Austrian 
general,  finding  it  impossible  to  carry  the 
p^ace  by  a  coup-de-main,  was  meditating  to 
<:ross  the  Adige,  when  he  was  recalled  by 
the  most  urgent  commands  to  rejoin  Wurm- 
ser with  all  possible  despatch. 

Vs  soon  as  Buonaparte  learned  this  new 
separation  of  Wurmser  from  a  large  division 
of  his  army,  he  anticipated  the  possibility 
of  defeating  the  Field-marshal  himself, 
driving  him  from  his  position  at  Bassano, 
and  of  consequence,  cutting  off  at  his  leis- 
ure tlie  division  of  Mezaros,  which  had  ad- 
vanced so  far  to  the  southward  as  effectu- 
■i.liy  to  compromise  its  safety. 

To  execute  this  plan  required  the  utmost 
r:ii)idity  of  movement ;  for,  should  Wurmser 
I'varn  that  Buonaparte  was  advancing  to- 
wards Bassano,  in  time  to  recall  Mezaros, 
hf  might  present  a  front  too  numerous  to 
W  attac<ted  with  hope  of  success.  There 
;«•(•  twenty  leagues'  distance  betwixt  Trent 
and  Bassano,  and  that  ground  was  to  be 
traversed  by  means  of  very  difficult  roads, 
ill  the  space  of  two  days  at  farthest.  But  it 
w!is  in  such  circumstances  that  the  genius 
of  Napoleon  tri\mpheJ,  through  the  entlni- 
sia.stic  power  whicli  he  possessed  over  tlic 
soldiery,  and  by  wl-.ich  he  could  urge  them 
«"  tlie  most  incredible  exertions.  He  left 
Trent  on  the  6tli  September  at  break  of 
day,  and  reached,  in  the  course  of  the  evon- 
inij,  Borgo  di  Val  Lpgano,  a  march  of  ten 
l-'rench  leagues.  A  similar  forced  march  of 
five  leagues  and  upwards,  brought  him  up 


with    Wurmscr's    advanced-guard,    whicli 
was  strongly  posted  at  Priniolano. 

The  eHect  of  the  surprise,  and  the  im- 
jfetuosity  of  tlie  French  attack,  surmounted 
all  the  advantages  of  position.  The  Aus- 
trian double  lines  were  penetrated  by  a 
charge  of  three  French  columns — the  cav- 
alry occupied  the  high  road,  and  cut  off  the 
enemy's  retreat  on  Bassano — in  a  word. 
Wurmser's  vanguard  was  totally  destroyed, 
and  more  than  four  thousand  men  laid  down 
their  arms.  From  Primolano  the  French, 
dislodging  whatever  enemies  they  encoun- 
tered, advanced  to  Cismone,  a  village, 
wliere  a  river  of  the  same  name  unites  with 
the  Brenta.  There  they  halted,  exhausted 
with  fatigue  ;  and  on  that  evening  no  senti- 
nel in  the  army  endured  more  privations 
than  Napoleon  himself,  who  took  up  his 
quarters  for  the  night  without  either  staft'- 
officers  or  baggage,  and  w^as  glad  to  accept 
a  share  of  a  private  soldier's  ration  of 
bread,  of  which  the  poor  fellow  lived  to 
remmd  his  general  when  he  was  become 
Emperor. 

Cismone  is  only  about  four  leagues  from 
Bassano,  and  Wurmser  heard  with  alarm, 
that  the  French  leader,  whom  he  conceived 
to  be  already  deeply  engaged  in  the  Tyro- 
lese  passes,  had  destroyed  his  vanguard, 
and  was  menacing  his  own  position.  It  was 
under  this  alarm  that  he  despatched  ex- 
presses, as  already  mentioned,  to  recall 
Mezaros  and  his  division.  But  it  was  too 
late  ;  for  that  general  was  under  the  walls 
of  Verona,  nigh  fifteen  leagues  from  Wurm- 
ser's position,  on  the  night  of  the  7th  Sep- 
tember, when  the  French  army  was  at 
Cismone,  within  a  third  part  of  that  dis- 
tance. The  utmost  exertions  of  Mezaros 
could  only  bring  his  division  as  far  as 
Montebello,  upon  the  8th  September,  when 
the  battle  of  Bassano  seemed  to  decide 
the  fate  of  his  unfortunate  commaiider-in- 
chief. 

This  victory  was  as  decisive  as  any  which 
Buonaparte  had  hitherto  obtained.  The 
village  of  Salagna  was  first  carried  by  main 
force,  and  then  the  French  army,  continu- 
ing to  descend  the  defiles  of  the  Brenta. 
attacked  Wurmser's  main  body,  which  still 
lay  under  his  own  command  in  the  town  of 
Bassano.  Augereau  penetrated  into  the 
town  upon  the  right,  Massena  upon  the  left. 
They  bore  down  all  opposition,  and  seized 
the  cannon  by  which  the  bridge  was  dcfend- 
I  ed.  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  Austrian 
grenadiers,  charged  with  the  duty  of  protect- 
ing Wurmser  and  his  staff,  who  were  now 
I  in  absolute  flight. 

[  The  Field-marshal  himself,  with  the  mil- 
!  itary  chest  of  his  army,  nearly  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  French  ;  and  though  he  es- 
I  cai)ed  for  the  time,  it  was  after  an  almost 
I  general  dispersion  of  hi*  troops.  Six  thou- 
1  sand  Austrians  surrendered  to  Buonaparte  : 
I  Quasdonowich,  with  three  or  four  thousand 
men,  effected  a  retreat  to  the  northeast, 
j  and  gained  Friuli  ;  while  Wurmser  himself, 
I  finding  it  inipo.ssible  to  escape  otherwise, 
I  fled  to  Vicenza  in  the  opposite  direction, 
I  and  there  united  the  scattered  forces  which 


Chap.  XXIV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


245 


■till  followed  him,  with  the  division  of 
Mezaros.  When  this  junction  was  ac- 
complished, the  aged  Marshal  had  still  the 
oommand  of  about  sixteen  thousand  men, 
out  of  sixty  thousand,  with  whom  he  had, 
acarce  a  week  before,  commenced  the  cam- 
paign. The  material  part  of  his  army,  guns, 
wagons,  and  bagga^'e,  was  all  lost — his  re- 
treat upon  the  hereditary  states  of  Austria 
was  entirely  cut  off — the  flower  of  his  army 
was  destroyed — courage  and  confidence 
were  gone — theie  seemed  no  remedy  but 
that  he  should  lay  down  his  anus  to  tlie 
youtliful  conqueror  by  wliose  forces  he  was 
now  surrounded  on  all  sides,  without,  as  it 
appeared,  any  possibility  of  extricating  him- 
Belf.  But  Fate  itself  seemed  to  take  some 
tardy  compassion  on  this  venerable  and  gal- 
lant veteran,  -and  not  only  adjourned  his 
filial  fall,  but  even  granted  him  leave  to 
gather  some  brief-dated  laurels,  as  the 
priests  of  old  were  wont  to  garland  their 
victims  before  the  final  sacrifice. 

Surrounded  by  dangers,  and  cut  off  from 
any  other  retreat,  Wurraser  formed  the 
gallant  determination  to  throw  himself  and 
his  remaining  forces  into  Mantua,  and 
share  the  fate  of  the  beleagured  fortress 
which  he  had  vainly  striven  to  relieve.  But 
to  execute  this  purpose  it  was  necessary  to 
cross  the  Adige,  nor  was  it  eisy  to  say  how 
this  was  to  be  accomplished.  Verona,  one 
point  of  passage,  was  defended  by  Kilmaine, 
who  had  already  repulsed  Mezaros.  Leg- 
nago,  where  there  was  a  bridge,  was  also 
garrisoned  by  the  French  ;  and  Wurmser 
had  lost  his  bridge  of  pontoons  at  the  battle 
of  Bassano.  At  the  village  of  Albarado, 
however,  there  was  an  established  ferry, 
totally  insufficient  for  passing  over  so  con- 
siderable a  force  with  the  necessary  de- 
spatch, but  which  Wurmser  used  for  the 
purpose  of  sending  across  two  squadrons 
of  cavalry,  in  order  to  reconnoitre  the 
blockade  of  Mantua,  and  the  facilities  which 
might  present  themselves  for  accomplish- 
ing a  retreat  on  that  fortress.  This  precau- 
tion proved  for  the  time  the  salvation  of 
Wurmser,  and  what  remained  of  his  army. 

Fortune,  which  has  such  influence  in 
warlike  affairs,  had  so  ordered  it,  that  Kil- 
maine, apprehending  that  Wurmser  would 
attempt  to  force  a  passage  at  Verona,  and  i 
desirous  to  improve  his  means  of  resistance  | 
against  so  great  a  force,  had  sent  orders  that  | 
the  garrison  of  four  hundred  men  who  guard-  j 
ed  the  bridge  at  Legnago  should  join  him  at 
Verona,  and  that  an  equal  number  should 
be  detached  from  the  blockade  of  Mantua, 
to  supply  their  place  on  the  Lower  Adige. 
The  former  part  oi  his  command  had  been 
obeyed,  and  the  garrison  of  Legnago  were 
on  their  march  for  V^erona.  But  the  relief 
which  was  designed  to  occupy  their  post, 
though  on  their  way  to  Legnago,  had  not 
yet  arrived.  The  Austrian  cavalry,  who 
had  passed  over  at  .\lbarado,  encountering 
this  body  on  its  march  from  the  vicinity  of 
Mantua,  attacked  them  with  spirit,  and  sa- 
bred a  good  many.  The  commander  of  the 
Prench  battalion,  confounded  at  this  ap- 
pearance, concluded  that  the  whole  Aus- 
trian army  had  gained  the  right  bank  of  the 


Adige,  and  that  he  should  necessarily  be 
cut  off  if  he  prosecuted  his  march  to  Leg- 
nago. Thus  the  passage  at  that  place  was 
left  altogether  undefended  ;  and  Wurmser, 
apprised  of  this  unhoped-for  chaince  of  es- 
cape, occupied  the  village,  and  took  pos- 
session of  the  bridge. 

Buonaparte,  in  the  meantime,  having 
moved  from  Bassano  to  Areola  in  pursuit 
of  the  defeated  enemy,  learned  at  the  lat- 
ter place  that  Wurraser  still  lingered  at 
Legnago,  periiaps  to  grant  his  troops  some 
indispensable  repose,  perhaps  to  watch 
whether  it  might  be  even  yet  possible  to 
give  the  slip  to  the  French  divisions  by 
which  he  was  surrounded,  and  by  a  rapid 
march  back  upon  Padua,  to  regain  his  com- 
munication with  the  .\ustrian  territories, 
instead  of  inclosing  himself  in  Mantua. 
Buonaparte  hastened  to  avail  himself  of 
these  moments  of  indecision.  Augereau 
was  ordered  to  march  upon  Legnago  by  the 
road  from  Padua,  so  as  to  cut  off  any  possi- 
bility of  Wurmser's  retreat  in  that  direc- 
tion ;  while  Massena's  division  was  thrown 
across  the  Adige  by  a  ferry  at  Ronco,  to 
strengthen  General  Kilmaine,  who  had  al- 
ready occupied  the  line  of  a  small  river 
called  the  Molinella,  which  intersects  the 
country  between  Lftgnago  and  Mantua.  If 
this  position  could  be  made  good,  it  was 
concluded  that  the  Austrian  general,  una- 
ble to  reach  Mantua,  or  to  maintain  himself 
at  Legnago,  must  even  yet  surrender  him- 
self and  his  army. 

On  the  12th  September,  Wurmser  began 
his  march.  He  was  first  opposed  at  Corea, 
where  Murat  and  Pigeon  had  united  their 
forces.  But  Wurmser  made  his  disposi- 
tions, and  attacked  with  a  fury  which  swept 
out  of  the  way  both  the  cavalry  and  infantry 
of  the  enemy,  and  obtained  possession  oi' 
the  village.  In  the  heat  of  the  skirmish, 
and  just  when  the  French  were  giving  way, 
Buonaparte  himself  entered  Corea,  with 
the  purpose  of  personally  superintending 
the  dispositions  made  for  intercepting  the 
retreat  of  Wurmser,  when,  but  for  the 
speed  of  his  horse,  he  had  nearly  fallen  as  a 
prisoner  into  the  Lands  of  the  general  whjse 
destruction  he  was  labouring  to  insure. 
Wurmser  arrived  on  the  spot  a  few  minutes 
afterwards,  and  gave  orders  for  a  pursuit  in 
every  direction ;  commamding.  however, 
that  the  French  general  should,  if  possible, 
be  taken  alive — a  conjunction  of  circum- 
stances worthy  of  remark,  since  it  author- 
ised the  Austrian  general  for  the  moment 
to  pronounce  on  the  fate  of  him,  who,  be- 
fore and  after,  was  the  master  of  his  des- 
tiny. 

Having  again  missed  this  great  prize, 
Wurmser  continued  his  march  all  night, 
and  turning  aside  from  the  great  road,  where 
the  blockading  army  had  taken  measures  to 
intercept  him,  he  surprised  a  small  bridi^e 
over  the  Molinella,  at  a  village  called  Villa 
Impenta,  by  which  he  eluded  encountering 
the  forces  of  Kilmaine.  A  body  of  French 
horse,  sent  to  impede  his  progress,  was  cut 
to  pieces  by  the  .\ustrian  cavalry.  On  the 
1-kh,  Wurmser  obtained  a  similar  succes.*? 
at  Castel-Dui,   where   his   cuirassiers  de- 


246 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXV. 


stroyed  a  body  of  French  infantry ;  and 
having  now  forced  himself  -nto  a  communi- 
cation with  Mantua,  he  encamped  between 
the  suburb  of  Saint  George  and  the  citadel, 
and  endeavoured  to  keep  open  the  com- 
munication with  the  country,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  a  supply  of  forage  and 
provisions. 

But  it  was  not  Buonaparte's  intention  to 
leave  him  undisturbed  in  so  commodious  a 
position.  Having  receivetl  the  surrender 
of  an  .\ustrian  corps  which  was  left  in  Porto 
Legnago,  and  gleaned  up  such  other  rem- 
nants of  Wurmser's  army  as  could  not  ac- 
company iheir  general  in  his  rapid  march 
to  Mantua,  he  resolved  once  more  to  force 
his  way  into  the  isles  of  the  Seraglio,  upon 
which  Mantua  is  built,  and  confine  the  be- 
sieged within  the  walls  of  their  garrison. 
On  the  15th,  after  a  very  severe  and  bloody 
action,  the  French  obtained  possession  of 
the  suburb  of  Saint  George,  and  the  cita- 
del termed  La  Favorita,  and  a  long  series 
of  severe  sallies  and  attacks  took  place, 
which,  although  gallantly  fought  by  the 
Austrian?,  generally  tended  to  their  disad- 
vantage, so  that  they  were  finally  again 
blockaded  within  the  walls  of  the  city  and 
castle . 

The  woes  of  war  now  appeared  among 
them  in  a  different  and  even  more  hideous 
form  than  when  inflicted  with  the  sword 
alone.    When  Wurmser  threw  himself  in- 


to Mantua,  the  garrison  might  amount  to 
twenty-six  thousand  men  ;  yet  ere  October 
was  far  advanced,  there  were  little  above 
the  half  of  the  number  fit  for  service. 
There  were  nearly  nine  thousaud  sick  in 
the  hospitals, — mfectious  diseases,  priva- 
tions of  every  kind,  and  the  unhealthy  air 
of  the  lakes  and  marshes  with  which  they 
were  surrounded,  had  cut  off  tlie  remainder 
The  French  also  had  lost  great  numbers  j 
but  the  conquerors  could  reckon  up  their 
victories,  and  forget  the  price  at  which 
they  had  been  purchased. 

It  was  a  proud  vaunt,  and  a  cure  in  itself 
for  many  losses,  that  the  minister  of  War 
had  aright  to  make  the  following  speech  to 
the  Directory,  at  the  formal  introduction  of 
Marmont.  then  aid-dc-camp  of  Buonapsu-te, 
and  commissioned  to  present  on  his  part 
the  colours  and  standards  taken  from  the 
enemy  ; — '•  In  the  course  of  a  single  cam- 
paign," he  truly  said,  "  Italy  had  been  en- 
tirely conquered — three  large  armies  had 
been  entirely  destroyed — more  than  fifly 
stand  of  colours  had  been  taken  by  the  vic- 
tors— forty  thousand  Austrians  had  laid 
down  their  arms — and,  what  was  not  the 
least  surprising  part  of  the  whole,  these 
deeds  had  been  accomplished  by  an  army 
of  only  thirty  thousand  Frenchmen,  com- 
manded by  a  general  scarce  twenty-six  years 
old." 


CHAP.  XXV. 

Corsica  reunited  mitk  France. — Critical  situation  of  Buonaparte  in  Italy  at  this  peri- 
od.—  The  Atistrian  General  Alvinzi  placed  at  the  head  of  a  new  army. —  Various 
Contests,  attended  with  no  decisive  result. —  Want  of  concert  among  the  Austriar^ 
Generals. — French  Army  begin  to  murmur. — First  Battle  of  Areola. — Napoleon  in 
personal  danger. — No  decisive  result. — Second  Battle  of  Areola — The  French  victo- 
rious.— Fresh  want  of  concert  among  the  Austrian  Generals. — General  views  of 
Military  and  Political  Affairs,  after  the  conclusion  of  the  fourth  Italian  Campaign. 
— Aicstria  Commences  a  fifth  Campaign — but  has  not  profited  by  experience. — Battle 
qf  Rivoli,  and  victory  of  the  French. — Further  successfid  at  La  Favorita. — French 
regain  their  lost  ground  in  Italy. — Surreiider  of  Mantua — Instances  of  Napoleon's 
Generosity. 


About  this  period  the  re-union  of  Corsi- 
ca with  France  took  place.  Buonaparte  con- 
tributed to  this  change  in  the  political  re- 
lations of  his  native  country  indirectly,  in 
part  by  the  high  pride  which  his  country- 
men must  have  originally  taken  in  his 
splendid  career ;  and  he  did  so  more  im- 
mediately, by  seizing  the  town  and  port  of 
Leghorn,  and  assisting  those  Corsicans, 
who  had  been  exiled  by  the  English  party, 
to  return  to  their  native  island.  He  inti- 
mated the  event  to  the  Directory,  and  slat- 
ed that  he  had  appointed  Gentili,  tjie  prin- 
cipal partizan  of  the  French,  to  govern  the 
island  provisionally;  and  that  the  Com- 
micfsioner  .Salicetti  was  to  set  sail  for  the 
purpose  of  making  other  necessary  arranpe- 
ments.  The  communication  is  coldly  made, 
nor  docs  Buonaparte's  love  of  his  birth- 
place induce  him  to  expatiate  upon  its  im- 
portance, although  the  Directory  aflcrwards 
made  the  acquisition  of  that  island  a  great 
theme  of  exultation.    But  his  destines  had 


called  him  to  too  high  an  elevation  to  per- 
mit his  distinguishing  the  obscure  islet 
which  he  had  arisen  from  originally.  He 
was  like  the  young  lion,  who,  while  he  is 
scattering  the  herds  and  destroying  the 
hunters,  thinks  little  of  the  forest-cave  in 
which  he  first  saw  the  light.* 


*  We  have  .saiil  (p.  200)  tliat  Buonaparte  never 
disLingiiished  his  native  country  after  hia  high 
e.valtation,  and  did  not  of  course  possess  the  affec- 
tion of  the  inhabitants  in  a  strong  degree.  But 
in  his  Memoirs  while  at  St.  Helena,  he  gives  a 
sketch  of  the  geographical  description  and  history 
of  Corsica,  and  suggests  several  plans  for  civiliza- 
tion of  his  countrymen, — one  of  which,  the  depriv- 
ing them  of  the  arms  which  they  constantly  wear,  / 
miglit  be  prudent  were  it  practicable,  hut  certainly 
would  be  highly  unpalatable.  There  is  an  odd  ob- 
servation, "  that  the  Crown  of  Corsica  must  on  th« 
temporary  annexation  of  the  island  to  Great  Brit- 
ain, have  been  surprised  at  finding  Itself  apper- 
taining to  the  successor  of  Fingal."  Not  more 
we  should  think  than  the  diadem  of  France,  and 
the  Iron  Crown  of  Italy,  may  have  marvelled  at 
n>eotin2  on  the  brow  of  aCorsican  soldier  of  fortum. 


Chap.  XXV.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


247 


Indeed  Buonaparte's  situation,  however 
brilliant,  was  at  the  same  time  critical,  and 
required  his  undivided  thoughts.  Mantua 
■till  held  out,  and  was  likely  to  do  so. 
Wurmser  had  caused  aoout  three-fourths 
of  the  horses  belonging  to  his  cavalry  to  be 
killed  and  salted  for  the  use  of  the  garri- 
son, and  thus  made  a  large  addition,  such 
as  it  was,  to  the  prov;:.ljns  of  the  place. 
His  character  for  courage  and  determina- 
tion was  completely  established;  and  being 
now  engaged  in  defending  a  fortress  by  or- 
dinary rules  of  art,  which  he  perfectly  un- 
derstood, he  was  in  no  danger  of  being  over- 
reached and  out-manceuvred  by  the  new 
system  of  tactics,  which  occasioned  his 
misfortunes  in  the  open  field. 

While,  therefore,  the  last  pledge  of  Aus- 
tria's dominions  in  Italy  was  confided  to 
Buch  safe  custody,  the  Emperor  and  his 
ministers  were  eagerly  engaged  in  making 
a  new  effort  to  recover  their  Italian  terri- 
tories. The  defeat  of  Jourdan,  and  the 
retreat  of  Moreau  before  the  Archduke 
Charles,  had  given  the  Imperialists  some 
breathing  time,  and  enabled  them  by  exten- 
sive levies  in  the  warlike  province  of  lUy- 
ria,  as  well  as  draughts  from  the  army  of 
the  Rhine,  to  take  the  field  with  a  new  ar- 
my, for  the  recovery  of  the  Italian  provin- 
ces, and  the  relief  of  Mantua.  By  orders 
of  the  Aulic  Council,  two  armies  were  as- 
sembled on  the  Italian  frontier ;  one  at 
Friuli,  which  was  partly  composed  of  that 
portion  of  the  army  of  Wurmser,  which, 
cut  off  froji  their  main  body  at  the  battle 
of  Bassaiu),  had  effected,  under  Quasdono- 
wich,  a  retreat  in  that  direction  ;  the  other 
was  to  be  formed  on  the  Tyrol.  They 
were  to  operate  in  conjunction,  and  both 
were  placed  under  the  command  of  Mar- 
shal Alvinzi,  an  officer  of  high  reputation, 
which  was  then  thought  merited. 

Thus,  for  the  fourth  time,  Buonaparte 
was  to  contest  the  same  objects  on  the 
same  ground,  with  new  forces  belonging  to 
the  same  enemy.  He  had,  indeed,  himself 
received  from  France  reinforcements  to  the 
number  of  twelve  battalions,  from  those 
troops  which  had  been  formerly  employed 
in  La  Vendee.  The  army  in  general,  since 
victory  had  placed  the  resources  of  the  rich 
country  which  they  occupied  at  the  com- 
mand of  their  leader,  had  been  well  sup- 
plied with  clothes,  food,  and  provisions, 
and  were  devotedly  attached  to  the  chief 
who  had  conducted  them  from  starving  on 
the  barreaAlps  into  this  land  of  plenty,  and 
had  directed  their  military  efforts  with  such 
skill,  that  they  could  scarce  ever  be  said 
to  have  failed  of  success  in  whatever  they 
undertook  under  his  direction. 

Napoleon  had  also  on  his  side  the  good 
wishes,  if  not  of  the  Italians  in  general,  of 
a  considerable  party,  especially  in  Lombar- 
dy,  and  friends  and  enemies  w^ere  alike  im- 
pressed with  belief  in  his  predestined  suc- 
cess. During  the  former  attempts  of  Wurm- 
ser, a  contrary  opinion  had  prevailed,  and 
the  news  that  the  Austrians  were  in  mo- 
tion, had  given  birth  to  insurrections  against 
the  F'rench  in  many  places,  and  to  the 
publication  of  sentiments  unfavourable  to 


them  almost  everywhere.  But  now,  when 
all  predicted  the  certain  success  of  Na- 
poleon, the  friends  of  Austria  remained 
quiet,  and  the  numerous  party  who  desire 
in  such  cases  to  keep  on  the  winning  side, 
added  weight  to  the  actual  friends  of  France, 
by  expressing  their  opinions  in  her  favour. 
It  seems,  however,  that  Victory,  as  if  dis- 
pleased that  mortals  shruld  presume  to 
calculate  the  motives  of  so  fickle  a  deity, 
was,  on  this  occasion,  disposed  to  be  more 
coy  than  formerly  even  to  her  greatest  fa- 
vourite, and  to  oblige  him  to  toil  harder 
than  he  had  done  even  when  the  odds  were 
more  against  him. 

Davidow'ch  commanded  the  body  of  the 
Austrians  which  was  in  the  Tyrol,  and 
whicli  included  the  fine  militia  of  that  mar- 
tial province.  There  was  little  difficulty  in 
prevailing  on  them  to  advance  into  Italy, 
convinced  as  they  were  that  there  was 
small  security  for  their  national  indepen- 
dence while  the  French  remained  in  pos- 
session of  Lombardy.  Buonaparte,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  placed  Vaubois  in  the  pass- 
es upon  the  river  Lavisa,  above  Trent,  to 
cover  that  new  possession  of  the  French 
Republic,  and  check  the  advance  of  Davi- 
dowich.  It  was  the  plan  of  Alvinzi,  to  de- 
scend from  Friuli,  and  approach  Vicenza, 
to  which  place  he  expected  Davidowich 
might  penetrate  by  a  corresponding  move- 
ment down  the  Adige.  Having  thus  brought 
his  united  army  into  activity,  his  design  was 
to  advance  on  Mantua,  the  constant  object 
of  blooay  contention.  He  commenced  hi.-? 
march  in  the  beginning  of  October  1796. 

As  soon  as  Buonaparte  heard  that  Alvinai 
was  in  motion,  he  sent  orders  to  Vaubois 
to  attack  Davidowich,  and  to  Massena  to 
advance  to  Bassano  upon  the  Brenta,  and 
make  head  against  the  Austrian  commander- 
in-chief.     Both  measures  failed  in  effect. 

Vaubois  indeed  made  his  attack,  but  so 
unsuccessfully,  that  after  two  days"  fight- 
ing he  was  compelled  to  retreat  before  the 
Austrians,  to  evacuate  the  city  of  Trent, 
and  to  retreat  upon  Galliano,  already  men- 
tioned as  a  very  strong  position,  in  the  pre- 
vious account  of  the  battle  of  Roveredo.* 
A  great  part  of  his  opponents  being  Tyrol- 
ese,  and  admirably  calculated  for  mountain 
warfare,  they  forced  Vaubois  from  a  situa- 
tion which  was  almost  impregnable ;  and 
their  army,  descending  the  Adige  upon  the 
right  bank,  appeared  to  manteuvre  with  the 
purpose  of  marching  on  Montebaldo  and 
'  Rivoli.  and  thus  opening  the  communica- 
I  tion  with  Alvinzi. 

I  On  the  other  hand,  though  Massena  had 
I  sustained  no  loss,  for  he  avoided  an  engage- 
ment, the  approach  of  Alvinzi,  with  a  supe- 
rior army,  compelled  him  to  evacuate  Bas- 
sano, and  to  leave  the  enemy  in  undisputed 
possession  of  the  valley  of  the  Brenta. 
Buonaparte,  therefore,  himself,  saw  the  ne- 
cessity of  advancing  with  Augereau's  divis- 
ion, determined  to  give  battle  to  .Mvinzi, 
and  force  him  back  on  the  Piave  before  the 
arrival  of  Davidowich.  But  he  experienced 
unusual  resistance  ;   and  it  is  amid  com- 


248 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


plaints  of  the  weather,  of  misadventures  and 
jniscarriages  of  different  sorts,  that  he  faint- 
ly claims  the  name  of  a  victory  for  his  first 
encounter  with  Alvinzi.  It  is  clear  that  he 
had  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  drive  the 
Austrian  general  from  Bassano — that  he 
had  not  succeeded  ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
was  unde"  the  necessity  of  retreating  to 
\'icenza.  It  is  further  manifest,  that  Buon- 
aparte was  sensible  this  retreat  did  not  ac- 
cord well  with  his  claim  of  victory ;  and  he 
says,  with  a  consciousness  which  is  amus- 
ing, that  the  inhabitants  of  Vicenza  were 
surprised  to  see  the  French  army  retire 
through  their  town,  as  they  had  been  wit- 
nesses of  their  victory  on  tlie  preceding 
day.  No  doubt  there  was  room  for  aston- 
ishment, if  the  Vicenzans  had  been  as  com- 
pletely convinced  of  the  fact  as  Buonaparte 
represents  them.  The  truth  was,  Buona- 
parte was  sensible  that  Vaubois,  being  in 
complete  retreat,  w  as  exposed  to  be  cut  off 
unless  he  was  supported,  and  he  hasted  to 
prevent  so  great  a  loss,  by  meeting  and  re- 
inforcing him.  His  own  retrograde  move- 
ment, however,  which  extended  as  far  as 
Verona,  left  the  whole  country  betwixt  the 
Brenta  and  Adige  open  to  the  Austrians  j 
nor  does  there  nccar,  to  those  who  read  the 
account  of  the  caupr.ign,  any  good  reason 
why  Davidowich  and  Alvinzi,  having  no 
body  of  French  to  interrupt  their  communi- 
cation, should  not  instantly  have  adjusted 
their  operations  on  a  common  basis.  But 
it  was  the  bane  of  the  Austrian  tactics, 
through  the  whole  war,  to  neglect  that  con- 
nexion, and  co-operation  betwi.\t  their  sep- 
arate divisions,  which  is  essential  to  secure 
the  general  result  of  a  campaign.  Above 
all,  as  Buonaparte  himself  remarked  of 
them,  their  leaders  were  not  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  the  value  of  time  in  mili- 
tary movements. 

Napoleon  having  retreated  to  Verona, 
where  he  could  at  pleasure  assume  the  of- 
fensive by  means  of  the  bridge,  or  place 
the  Adige  between  himself  and  the  enemy, 
visited,  in  the  first  place,  the  positions  of 
Rivoli  and  Corona,  where  were  stationed 
the  troops  which  had  been  defeated  by  Da- 
vidowich. 

They  appeared  before  him  with  dejected 
countenances,  and  Napoleon  upbraided 
them  with  their  indifferont  behaviour. 
"  You  have  displeased  me,"  he  said  ; — 
"You  have  shown  neither  discipline,  nor 
constancy,  nor  bravery.  You  have  sutTered 
yourselves  to  be  driven  from  positions 
wher«  a  handful  of  brave  men  might  have 
arrested  the  progress  of  a  large  army.  You 
are  no  longer  French  soldiers. — Let  it  be 
written  on  their  colours — '  They  are  not  of 
the  Army  of  Italy.'  "  Tears,  and  groans  of 
sorrow  and  shame,  answered  this  harangue 
— the  rules  of  discipline  could  not  stilio 
their  sense  of  mortification,  and  several  of 
the  grenadiers,  who  had  deserved  and  wore 
marks  of  distinction,  called  out  from  the 
ranks — "  General,  we  have  been  misrepre- 
sented— Place  us  in  the  advance,  and  you 
may  then  judge  whether  we  do  not  belniiir 
to  the  Army  of  Italy."     Buonaparte  having 


[Chap.  XXV. 


produced  the  necessary  effect,  spoke  to 
them  in  a  more  concili.itory  tone  ;  and  the 
regiments  who  had  undergone  so  severe  a 
rebuke,  redeemed  their  character  in  the 
subsequent  part  of  the  campaign. 

While  Napoleon  was  indefatigable  in 
concentrating  his  troops  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Adige,  and  inspiring  them  with  his 
own  spirit  of  enterprise,  Alvinzi  had  taken 
his  position  on  the  left  bank,  nearly  oppo- 
site to  Verona.  His  army  occupied  a  range 
of  heights  called  Caldicro,  on  the  left  of 
which,  and  somewhat  in  the  rear,  is  the 
little  village  of  Areola,  situated  amon^ 
marshes,  which  extend  around  the  foot  of 
that  eminence.  Here  the  Austrian  gener- 
al had  stationed  himself,  with  a  view,  it 
may  be  supposed,  to  wait  until  Davidowich 
and  his  division  should  descend  the  right 
bank  of  the  Adige,  disquiet  the  French 
leader's  position  on  that  river,  and  give  Al- 
vinzi  himself  the  opportunity  of  forcing  a 
passage. 

Buonaparte,  with  his  usual  rapidity  of  re- 
solution, resolved  to  drive  the  Austrian 
from  his  position  on  Caldiero,  before  the 
arrival  of  Davidowich.  But  neither  on  this 
occasion  was  fortune  propitious  to  him.  A. 
strong  French  division,  under  Massena,  at- 
tacked the  heights  amid  a  storm  of  rain ; 
but  their  most  strenuous  exertions  proved 
completely  unsuccessful,  and  left  to  the 
general  only  his  usual  mode  of  concealinga 
check,  by  railing  at  the  elements. 

The  situation  of  the  French  became 
critical,  and,  what  was  worse,  the  soldiers 
perceived  it;  and  complained  that  they 
had  to  sustain  the  whole  burden  of  the  war, 
had  to  encounter  army  after  army,  and  must 
succumb  at  last  under  the  renewed  and 
unwearied  efforts  of  Austria.  Buonaparte 
parried  these  natural  feelings  as  well  as  he 
could,  promising  that  their  conquest  of  Ita- 
ly should  be  speedily  sealed  by  the  defeat 
of  this  Alvinzi ;  and  he  applied  his  whole 
genius  to  discover  the  means  of  bringing 
the  war  to  an  effective  struggle,  in  which 
he  confided  that,  in  spite  of  numbers,  hia 
own  talents,  and  the  enterprising  charactw 
of  an  army  so  often  victorious,  might  assure 
him  a  favourable  result.  But  it  was  no 
easy  way  to  discover  a  mode  of  attacking, 
with  even  plausible  hopes  of  success.  If 
he  advanced  northward  on  the  right  bainkto 
seek  out  and  destroy  Davidowich,  he  must 
weaken  his  line  on  the  Adige,  by  the  troops 
withdrawn  to  effect  that  purpose  ;  and  dur- 
ing his  absence,  Alvinzi,  would  probably 
force  the  passage  of  the  river  at  some  point, 
and  thus  have  it  in  his  power  to  relieve 
Mantua.  The  heights  of  Caldiero,  occupi- 
ed by  the  Austrian  main-body,  and  lying  in 
his  front,  had,  by  dire  experiment,  been 
proved  impregnable. 

In  these  doubtful  circumstances  the  bold 
scheme  occurred  to  the  French  general, 
that  the  position  of  Caldiero,  though  it  could 
not  be  stormed,  might  be  turned,  and  that 
by  possessing  himself  of  the  village  of  Ar- 
eola, which  lies  to  the  left,  and  in  the  rear 
of  Caldiero,  the  .Vustrians  might  be  com- 
pelled to  fight  to  disadvantage.    But  the 


Chap.  XXV.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


24i) 


idea  of  attacking  Areola  was  one  which 
would  scarce  have  occurred  to  any  general 
save  Buonaparte. 

Areola  is  situated  upon  a  small  stream 
called  the  Alpon,  which,  as  already  hinted, 
finds  its  way  into  the  Adige,  through  a  wil- 
derness of  marshes,  intersected  with  ditch- 
es, aud  traversed  by  dikes  in  various  direc- 
tions. In  case  of  an  unsuccessful  attack, 
the  assailants  were  like  to  be  totally  cut  off 
in  the  swamps.  Then  to  debouche  from 
Verona,  and  move  in  the  direction  of  Areo- 
la, would  have  put  Alvinzi  and  his  whole 
army  on  their  guard.  Secrecy  and  celerity 
are  the  soul  of  enterprise.  All  these  diffi- 
culties gave  way  before  Napoleon's  genius. 

Verona,  it  must  be  remembered,  is  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Adige — on  the  same  with 
the  point  which  was  the  object  of  Buona- 
parte's attack.  At  night-fall,  the  whole 
forces  at  \"erona  were  under  arms  ;  and 
leaving  fifteen  hundred  men  under  Kilmaine 
to  defend  the  place  from  any  assault,  with 
strict  orders  to  secure  the  gates,  and  pre- 
vent all  communication  of  his  nocturnal  ex- 
pedition to  the  enemy.  Buonaparte  com- 
menced his  march  at  tirst  to  the  rear,  in  the 
direction  of  Peschiera  ;  which  seemed  to 
imply  that  his  resolution  was  at  length  ta- 
ken to  resign  the  hopes  of  gaining  ^lantua, 
and  perhaps  to  abandon  Italy.  The  silence 
with  which  the  march  was  conducted,  the 
absence  of  all  the  usual  rumours  which  us- 
ed in  the  French  army  to  pr;2cede  a  battle, 
and  the  discouraging  situation  of  affairs,  ap- 
peared to  presage  the  same  issue.  But  af- 
ter the  troops  had  marched  a  little  way  in 
this  'direction,  the  heads  of  columns  were 
wheeled  to  the  left,  out  of  the  line  of  re- 
treat, and  descended  the  Adige  as  fir  as 
Ronco,  which  they  reached  before  day. 
Here  a  bridge  had  been  prepared,  by  which 
they  passed  over  the  river,  and  were  placed 
on  the  same  bank  with  Areola,  the  object 
of  their  attack,  and  lower  than  the  heights 
of  Caldiero. 

There  were  three  causeways  by  which 
the  marsh  of  Areola  is  traversed — each  was 
occupied  by  a  French  column.  The  cen- 
tral column  moved  on  the  causeway  which 
led  to  the  village  so  named.  The  dikes 
and  causeways  were  not  defended,  but  Ar- 
eola and  its  bridge  were  protected  by  two 
battalions  of  Croats  with  two  pieces  of 
cannon,  which  were  placed  in  a  position  to 
enfilade  the  causeway.  These  received 
the  French  column  with  so  heavy  a  fire  on 
its  flank,  that  it  fell  back  in  disorder.  Au- 
gereau  rushed  forward  upon  the  bridge  with 
his  chosen  grenadiers  ;  but  enveloped  as 
they  were  in  a  destructive  fire,  they  were 
driven  back  on  the  main  body. 

Alvinzi,  who  conceived  it  only  an  affair 
of  light  troops,  sent,  however,  forces  into 
the  marsh  by  means  of  the  dikes  which 
traversed  them,  to  drive  out  the  French. 
These  were  checked  by  finding  that  they 
were  to  oppose  strong  columns  of  infantry, 
yet  the  battle  continued  with  unabated  viij- 
our.  It  w:iii  essential  to  Buonaparte's  plan 
that  Areola  should  be  carried  ;  but  the  fire 
continued  tremendous.  At  length,  to  ani- 
mate his  soldiers  to  a  final  exertion,  he 
Voj,   I,  •         LS 


caught  a  stand  of  colours,  rushed  on  tlie 
bridge,  and  planted  them  there  with  his 
own  hand.  A  fresh  body  of  .\ustrians  ar- 
rived at  that  moment,  and  the  fire  on  flank 
blazed  more  destructively  than  ever.  The 
rear  of  the  French  column  fell  back  ;  the 
leading  files,  finding  themselves  unsup- 
ported, gave  way,  but,  still  careful  of  their 
general,  bore  him  back  in  their  arms  through 
the  dead  and  dying,  the  fire  and  the  smoke. 
In  the  confusion  he  was  at  length  pushed 
into  the  marsh.  The  Austrians  were  al- 
ready bet\vixt  him  and  his  own  troops,  and 
he  must  have  perished  or  been  taken  had 
not  the  grenadiers  perceived  his  danger. 
The  cry  instantly  arose, — "Forward — ^for- 
ward— save  the  general  I"  Their  love  to 
Buonaparte's  person  did  more  than  even 
his  commands  and  example  had  been  able 
to  accomplish.  They  returned  to  the  charge, 
and  at  length  pushed  the  Austrians  out  of 
the  village  ;  but  not  till  the  appearance  of 
a  French  corps  under  General  Guieux  had 
turned  the  position,  and  he  had  thrown  him- 
self in  the  rear  of  it.  These  succours  had 
passed  at  the  ferry  of  Alborado,  and  the 
French  remained  in  possession  of  the  long- 
contested  village.  It  was  at  the  moment  a 
place  of  the  greatest  importance  ;  for  the 
possession  of  it  would  have  enabled  Buona- 
parte, had  the  Austrians  remained  in  their 
position,  to  operate  on  their  communica- 
tions with  the  Brenta,  interpose  between 
Alvinzi  and  his  reserves,  and  destroy  his 
park  of  artillery.  But  the  risk  was  avoid- 
ed by  the  timely  caution  of  the  Austrian 
Field-marshal. 

.\lvinzi  was  no  sooner  aware  that  a  great 
division  of  the  French  army  was  in  his  rear, 
than,  without  allowing  them  time  for  far- 
tlier  operations,  he  instantly  broke  up  his  po- 
sition on  Caldiero,  and  evacuated  these 
heights  by  a  steady  and  orderly  retreat. 
Buonaparte  had  the  mortification  to  see  the 
.\ustrians  effect  this  manoeuvre  by  crossing 
a  bridge  in  their  rear  over  the  Alpon,  and 
which  could  he  have  occupied,  as  was  his 
purpose,  he  might  have  rendered  their  re- 
treat impossible,  or  at  least  disastrous.  As 
matters  stood,  however,  the  village  of  Ar- 
eola came  to  lose  its  consequence  as  a  po- 
sition, since,  after  .\lvinzi'B  retreat,  it  was 
no  longer  in  the  rear,  but  in  the  front  of  the 
enemy. 

Buonaparte  remembered  he  had  enemies 
on  th'.'  right  as  well  as  on  the  left  of  the 
Adige ;  and  that  Davidowich  might  be 
once  more  routing  Vaubois,  while  he  was 
too  far  advanced  to  afford  him  assistance. 
He  therefore  evacuated  Areola,  and  the 
village  of  Porcil,  situated  near  it,  and  re- 
treating to  Ronco,  recrossed  the  river,  leav- 
ing only  two  demi-brigades  in  advance  uji- 
on  the  left  bank. 

The  first  battle  of  Areola,  famous  for  the 
obstinacy  with  which  it  was  disputed,  and 
the  number  of  brave  officers  and  men  who 
fell,  was  thus  attended  with  no  decisivf  r<  - 
suit.  But  it  had  checked  the  inclinniirvf, 
of  .\lvinzi  to  advance  on  Verona — it  Mid 
delayed  all  communication  betwixt  his  ar- 
my and  that  of  the  Tyrol — above  all,  it  had 
renewed  the  j^ustrians'  apprehensions  of 


250 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXV. 


the  skill  of  Buonaparte  and  the  bravery  of 
his  troops,  and  restored  to  the  French  sol- 
diery the  usual  confidence  of  their  national 
character. 

Buonaparte  remained  stationary  at  Ron- 
co  until  next  morning  at  five  o'clock,  by 
which  time  he  received  intelligence  that 
Davidowich  had  lain  quiet  in  his  former 
position  ;  that  he  had  no  cause  to  be  alarm- 
ed for  Vaubois'  safety,  and  might  therefore 
operate  in  security  against  Alvinzi.  This 
was  rendered  the  more  easy,  (16th  Novem- 
ber.) as  the  Austrian  general,  not  aware  of 
Buonaparte's  having  halted  his  army  at 
Ronco,  imagined  he  was  on  his  march  to 
concentrate  his  forces  near  Alantua,  and 
hastened  therefore  to  overwhelm  the  rear- 
guard, whom  he  expected  to  find  at  the 
ferry.  Buonaparte  spared  them  the  trouble 
of  a  close  advance  to  the  Adige.  He  again 
crossed  to  the  left  side,  and  again  advanced 
his  columns  upon  the  dikes  and  causeways 
which  traversed  the  marshes  of  Areola. 
On  such  ground,  where  it  was  impossible 
to  assign  to  the  columns  more  breadth  than 
the  causeways  could  accommodate,  the  vic- 
torious soldiers  of  France  had  great  advan- 
tage over  the  recent  levies  of  Austria ;  for 
though  the  latter  might  be  superior  in  num- 
ber, on  the  whole,  success  must  in  such  a 
case  depend  on  the  personal  superiority  of 
the  front  or  leading  files  only.  The  French, 
therefore,  had  the  first  advantage,  and  drove 
back  the  Austrians  upon  the  village  of  Ar- 
eola ;  but  here,  as  on  the  former  day,  Al- 
vinzi constituted  his  principal  point  of  de- 
fence, and  maintained  it  with  the  utmost 
obstinacy. 

After  having  repeatedly  failed  when  at- 
tacking in  front  a  post  so  difficult  of  approach, 
Nopoleon  endeavoured  to  turn  the  position 
by  crossing  the  little  river  Alpon,  near  its 
union  with  the  Adige.  He  attempted  to 
effect  a  passage  by  means  of  fascines,  but 
unsuccessfully ;  and  the  night  approached 
without  anything  effectual  being  decided. 
Both  parties  drew  off",  the  French  to  Ron- 
co, where  they  re-crossed  the  Adige  ;  the 
Austrians  to  a  position  behind  the  well-con- 
tested village  of  Areola. 

The  battle  of  the  16th  November  was 
thus  far  favourable  to  the  French,  that  they 
had  driven  back  the  Austrians,  and  made 
many  prisoners  in  the  commencement  of 
the  day  ;  but  they  had  also  lost  many  men  ; 
and  Napoleon,  if  he  had  gained  ground  in 
the  day,  was  fain  to  return  to  his  position  at 
night,  lest  Davidowich,  by  the  defeat  of 
Vaubois,  might  either  relieve  Mantua,  or 
move  on  Verona.  The  17th  was  to  be  a 
day  more  decisive. 

The  field  of  battle,  and  the  preliminary 
jnanoEuvres,  were  much  the  same  as  on  the 
preceding  day  ;  but  those  of  the  French 
were  nearly  disconcerted  by  the  sinking  of 
one  of  the  boats  which  constituted  their 
bridge  over  the  .\dige.  The  Austrians  in- 
stantly advanced  on  the  demi-bri^ade  which 
liad  been  stationed  on  the  left  bank  to  de- 
fend the  bridge.  But  the  French,  having 
repaired  the  damage,  advanced  in  their 
turn,  and  compelled  the  .\ustrians  to  retreat 
W)oa  the  marsh.     Massena  directed  liig  at- 


tack on  Porcil — General  Robert  pressed 
forwards  on  Areola.  But  it  was  at  the  point 
where  he  wished  to  cross  the  .\lpon  that 
Buonaparte  chiefly  desired  to  attain  a  decid- 
ed superiority ;  and  in  order  to  win  it,  he 
added  stratagem  to  audacity.  Observing 
one  of  his  columns  repulsed,  and  retreat- 
ing along  the  causeway,  he  placed  the  32d 
regiment  in  ambuscade  in  a  thicket  of  wil- 
lows which  bordered  the  rivulet,  and  sa- 
luting the  pursuing  enemy  with  a  close, 
heavy,  and  unexpected  fire,  instantly  rush- 
ed to  close  with  the  bayonet,  and  attacking 
the  flank  of  a  column  of  nearly  three  thou- 
sand Croats,  forced  them  into  the  marsh, 
where  most  of  them  perished. 

It  was  now  that,  after  a  calculation  of  the 
losses  sustained  by  the  enemy.  Napoleon 
conceived  their  numerical  superiority  so 
far  diminished,  and  their  spirit  so  much 
broken,  that  he  need  no  longer  confine  his 
operations  to  the  dikes,  but  meet  his  enemy 
on  the  firm  plain  which  extended  beyond  the 
Alpon.  He  passed  the  brook  by  means  of 
a  temporary  bridge  which  had  been  prepar- 
ed during  night ;  and  the  battle  raged  as 
fiercely  on  the  dry  level,  as  it  had  done  on 
the  dikes  and  amongst  the  marshes. 

The  Austrians  fought  with  resolution, 
the  rather  that  their  left,  though  stationed 
on  dry  ground,  was  secured  by  a  marsh 
which  Buonaparte  had  no  means  of  turning. 
But  though  this  was  the  case,  Napoleon 
contrived  to  gain  his  point  by  impressing  on 
the  enemy  an  idea  that  he  had  actually  ac- 
complished that  which  he  had  no  means  of 
doing.  This  he  effected  by  sending  a  dar- 
ing officer,  with  about  thirty  of  the  guides, 
(his  own  body-guards  they  may  be  called,) 
with  four  trumpets ;  and  directing  these 
determined  cavaliers  to  charge,  and  the 
trumpets  to  sound,  as  if  a  large  body  of 
horse  had  crossed  the  marsh.  Augereau 
attacked  the  Austrian  left  at  the  same  mo- 
ment; and  a  fresh  body  of  troops  advanc- 
ing from  Legnago,  compelled  them  to  re- 
treat, but  not  to  fly. 

Alvinzi  was  now  compelled  to  give  way, 
and  commence  his  retreat  on  Montebello. 
He  disposed  seven  thousand  men  in  echel- 
lons  to  cover  this  movement,  which  was  ac- 
complished without  very  much  loss  ;  but  his 
ranks  had  been  much  thinned  by  the  slaugh- 
ter of  tlie  three  battles  of  Areola.  Eight 
thousand  men  has  been  stated  as  the  amount 
of  his  losses.  The  French,  who  made  so 
many  and  so  sanguinary  assaults  upon  the 
villages,  must  also  have  suff'ered  a  great 
deal.  Buonaparte  acknowledges  this  in  en- 
ergetic terms.  '•'Never,"  he  writes  to  Car- 
not,  "  was  field  of  battle  so  disputed.  I 
have  almost  no  generals  remaining — I  can 
assure  you  that  the  victory  could  not  have 
been  gained  at  a  cheaper  expense.  The 
enemy  were  numerous,  and  desperately  re- 
solute." The  truth  is.  that  Buonaparte's 
mode  of  striking  terror  by  these  bloody  and 
desperate  charges  in  front  upon  strong  posi- 
tions, was  a  blemish  in  his  system.  They 
cost  many  men,  and  were  not  uniformly  suc- 
cessful. That  of  Areola  was  found  a  vain 
waste  of  blood,  till  science  was  employed 
instead  of  main  force,  when  the  positioa 


Chap.  XXV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


251 


was  turned  by  Guieux  on  the  first  day  ;  on 
the  third,  by  the  troops  who  crossed  the 
Alpon. 

The  tardy  conduct  of  Davidowich,  during 
'Jiese  three  undecided  days  of  slaughterous 
struggle,  is  worthy  of  notice  and  censure. 
It  would  appear  that  from  the  10th  Novem- 
ber that  general  had  it  in  his  power  to  at- 
tack the  division  which  he  had  hitherto 
driven  before  him,  and  that  he  had  delayed 
doing  80  till  the  16ih  ;  and  on  the  I8th,  just 
the  day  after  Alvinzi  had  made  his  retreat, 
he  approached  Verona  on  the  right  bank. 
Had  these  movements  taken  phce  before 
Alvinzi's  defeat,  or  even  during  any  of  the 
three  days  preceding,  when  the  French 
were  engaged  before  Areola,  the  conse- 
quences must  have  been  very  serious.  Find- 
ing, however,  that  Alvinzi  had  retreated, 
Davidowich  followed  the  same  course,  and 
withdrew  into  the  mountains,  not  much  an- 
noyed by  the  French,  who  respected  the 
character  of  his  army,  which  had  been  re- 
peatedly victorious,  and  felt  the  weakness 
incident  to  their  own  late  losses. 

Another  incidental  circumstance  tends 
equally  strongly  to  mark  the  want  of  con- 
cert and  communication  among  the  Aus- 
trian generals.  Wurmser,  who  had  re- 
mained quiet  in  Mantua  during  all  the  time 
when  .\lvinzi  and  Davidowich  were  in  the 
neighbourhood,  made  a  vigorous  sally  on 
the  23d  November  ;  when  his  doing  so  was 
of  little  consequence,  since  he  could  not 
be  supported. 

Thus  ended  the  fourth  campaign  under- 
taken for  the  Austrian  possessions  in  Italy. 
The  consequences  were  not  so  decidedly  in 
Buonaparte's  favour  as  those  of  the  three 
former.  Mantua,  it  is  true,  had  received 
no  relief;  and  so  far  the  principal  object  of 
the  Austrians  had  miscarried.  But  Wurm- 
eer  was  of  a  temper  to  continue  the  defence 
till  the  last  moment,  and  had  already  pro- 
vided for  a  longer  defence  than  the  French 
counted  upon,  by  curtailing  the  rations  of 
the  garrison.  The  armies  of  P'riuli  and  the 
Tyrol  had  also,  since  the  last  campaign,  re- 
tained possession  of  Bassano  and  Trent, 
and  removed  the  French  from  the  moun- 
tains through  which  access  is  gained  to  the 
Austrian  hereditary  dominions.  Neither 
had  Alvinzi  suffered  any  such  heavy  defeat 
as  his  predecessors  Beaulieu  or  Wurmser ; 
while  Davidowich,  on  the  contrary,  was  uni- 
formly successful,  had  he  known  how  to 
avail  himself  of  his  victories.  Still  the 
Austrians  were  not  likely,  till  reinforced 
again,  to  interrupt  Buonaparte's  quiet  pos- 
session of  Lombardy. 

During  two  months  following  the  battle 
of  Areola  and  the  retreat  of  the  Austrians, 
the  war  which  had  bf>en  so  vigorously  main- 
tained in  Italy  experienced  a  short  suspen- 
sion, and  the  attention  of  Buonaparte  was 
turned  towards  civil  matters — the  arrange- 
ment of  the  French  interests  with  the  vari- 
ous powers  of  Italy,  and  with  the  congress 
of  Lombardy,  as  well  as  the  erection  of  the 
districts  of  Bologna.  Ferrara,  Repgio,  and 
Modena,  into  what  was  called  the  Transpa- 
dane  Republic.  These  we  shall  notice 
•Jiewherc,  as  it  is  not  advisable  tg  interrupt 


the  course  of  our  military  annals,  until  we 
have  recounted  the  last  struggle  of  the  Aus- 
trians for  the  relief  of  Mantua. 

It  must  be  in  the  first  place  observed, 
that,  whether  from  jealousy  or  from  want 
of  means,  supplies  and  recruits  were  very 
slowly  transmitted  from  France  to  their 
Italian  army.  About  seven  thousand  men, 
who  were  actually  sent  to  join  Buonaparte, 
scarcely  repaired  the  losses  which  he  had 
sustained  in  the  late  bloody  campaigns.  At 
the  same  time  the  treaty  with  the  Pope 
being  broken  off,  the  supreme  Pontiff  threat- 
ened to  march  a  considerable  army  towards 
Lombardy.  Buonaparte  endeavoured  to  sup- 
ply the  want  of  reinforcements  by  raising  a 
defensive  legion  among  the  Lombards,  to 
which  he  united  many  Poles.  This  body 
was  not  fit  to  be  brought  into  line  against 
the  Austrians,  but  was  more  than  sufficient 
to  hold  at  bay  the  troops  of  the  Papal  See, 
who  have  never  enjoyed  of  late  years  a  high 
degree  of  military  reputation. 

Meantime  Austria,  who  seemed  to  cling 
to  Italy  with  the  tenacity  of  a  dying  grasp, 
again,  and  now  for  the  fifth  time,  recruited 
her  armies  on  the  frontier,  and  placing  Al- 
vinzi once  more  at  the  head  of  sixty  thou- 
sand men,  commanded  him  to  resume  the 
oflensive  against  the  French  in  Italy.  The 
spirit  of  the  country  had  been  roused  in- 
stead of  discouraged  by  the  late  defeats. 
The  volunteer  corps,  consisting  of  persons 
of  respectability  and  consideration,  took  the 
field,  for  the  redemption,  if  their  blood 
could  purchase  it,  of  the  national  honour. 
Vienna  furnished  four  battalions,  which 
were  presented  by  the  Empress  with  a  ban- 
ner, that  she  had  wrought  for  them  with  her 
own  hands.  The  Tyrolese  also  thronged 
once  more  to  their  sovereign's  standard, 
undismayed  by  a  proclamation  made  by 
Buonaparte  after  the  retreat  from  Areola, 
and  which  paid  homage,  though  a  painful 
one,  to  these  brave  marksmen.  "  Whatev- 
er Tyrolese,"  said  this  atrocious  document, 
"  is  taken  with  arms  in  his  hand,  shall  be 
put  to  instant  death."'  Alvinzi  sent  abroad 
a  counter  proclamation,  "  that  for  every 
Tyrolese  put  to  death  as  threatened,  he 
would  hang  up  a  French  officer."  Buona- 
parte again  replied,  "  that  if  the  Austria.", 
general  should  use  the  retaliation  he  threat- 
ened, he  would  execute  in  his  turn  officer 
for  officer  out  of  his  prisoners,  commencing 
with  Alvinzi's  own  nephew,  who  was  in  his 
power."  A  little  calmness  on  either  side 
brought  them  to  reflect  on  the  cruelty  of 
aggravating  the  laws  of  war,  which  are 
already  too  severe  ;  so  that  the  system  of 
military  execution  was  renounced  on  both 
sides. 

But  notwithstanding  this  display  of  zeal 
and  loyalty  on  the  part  of  the  Austrian  na- 
tion, its  councils  do  not  appear  to  have  de- 
rived wisdom  from  experience.  The  losses 
sustained  by  Wurmser  and  by  Alvinzi,  pro- 
ceeded in  a  great  measure  from  the  radical 
I  error  of  having  divided  their  forces,  and  com- 
j  menced  the  campaign  on  a  double  line  of  op- 
eration, which  could  not,  or  at  least  were  not 
made  to,  correspond  and  communicate  with 
each  other.  Yet  they  commenced  thi?  cam.-. 


252 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXV. 


paipn  on  the  same  unhappy  principles.  One 
army  descending  from  the  Tyrol  upon 
JVIontebaldo,  the  other  was  to  march  down 
by  the  Brenta  on  the  Paduan  territory,  and 
then  to  operate  on  the  lower  Adige,  the  line 
of  which,  of  course,  they  were  expected  to 
force,  for  the  purpose  of  relieving  Mantua. 
The  Aulic  Council  ordered  that  these  two 
armies  were  to  direct  their  course  so  as  to 
meet,  if  possible,  upon  the  beleaguered 
fortress.  Should  they  succeed  in  raising 
the  siege,  there  was  little  doubt  that  the 
French  must  be  driven  out  of  Italy ;  but 
even  were  the  scheme  only  partially  suc- 
cessful, still  it  might  allow  VVurmser  with 
his  cavalry  to  escape  from  that  besieged 
city,  and  retreat  into  the  Romagna,  where 
it  was  designed  that  he  should,  with  the 
assistance  of  his  staff  and  officers,  organize 
and  assume  the  command  of  the  Papal  ar- 
my. In  the  meantime,  an  intelligent  agent 
was  sent  to  communicate  if  possible  with 
Wurmser. 

This  man  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  be- 
siegers. It  was  in  vain  that  he  swallowed 
his  despatches,  which  were  inclosed  in  a 
ball  of  wax ;  means  were  found  to  make 
the  stomach  render  up  its  trust,  and  the 
document  which  the  wax  enclosed  was 
found  to  be  a  letter,  'signed  by  the  Empe- 
ror's own  hand,  directing  Wurmser  to  enter 
mto  no  capitulation,  but  to  hold  out  as  long 
as  possible  in  expectation  of  relief,  and  if 
compelled  to  leave  Mantua,  to  accept  of  no 
conditions,  but  to  cut  his  way  into  the 
Romagna,  and  take  upon  himself  the  com- 
mand of  the  Papal  army.  Thus  Buonaparte 
became  acquainted  with  the  storm  which 
was  approaching,  and  which  was  not  long 
of  breaking. 

Alvinzi,  who  commanded  the  principal 
army,  advanced  from  Bassano  to  Roveredo 
upon  the  Adige.  Provera,  distinguished 
for  his  gallant  defence  of  Cossaria  during 
the  action  of  Millesimo,*  commanded  the 
divisions  which  were  to  act  upon  the  lower 
Adige.  He  marched  as  far  as  Bevi  I'Acqua, 
while  his  advanced  guard,  under  Prince 
Hohenzollern,  compelled  a  body  of  French 
to  cross  the  right  bank  of  the  Adige. 

Buonaparte,  uncertain  which  of  these  at- 
tacks he  was  to  consider  as  the  main  one, 
concentrated  his  army  at  Verona,  which  had 
oeen  so  important  a  place  during  all  these 
campaigns  as  a  central  point,  from  which 
he  might  at  pleasure  march  either  up  the 
Adige  against  Alvinzi,  or  descend  the  river 
to  resist  the  attempts  of  Provera.  He  trust- 
ed that  Joubert,  whom  he  had  placed  in 
defence  of  Corona,  a  little  town  which  had 
been  strongly  fortified  for  the  purpose,  might 
be  able  to  make  a  gooa  temporary  defence. 
He  despatched  troops  for  Jouberfs  support 
to  Castel  Nuovo,  but  hesitated  to  direct  his 
principal  force  in  that  direction  until  ten 
in  the  evening  of  13th  January,  wlien  he  re- 
ceived information  that  .loubert  had  been 
attacked  at  La  Corona  by  an  immense  bodv, 
which  he  had  resisted  with  difficulty  during 
the  day,  and  was  now  about  to  retreat,  in 
order  to  secure  the  important  eminence  at 


*  See  page  219. 


Rivoli,  which  was  the  key  of  his   whole 
position. 

Judging  from  this  account  that  the  prin- 
cipal danger  occurred  on  the  upper  part  of 
the  Adige,  Buonaparte  left  only  Augereau'a 
division  to  dispute  with  Provera  the  pas- 
sage of  that  river  on  the  lowest  part  of  ita 
course.  He  was  especially  desirous  to  se- 
cure the  elevated  and  commanding  position 
of  Rivoli,  before  the  enemy  had  time  to  re- 
ceive his  cavalry  and  cannon,  as  he  hoped 
to  bring  on  an  engagement  ere  he  was  unit- 
ed with  those  important  parts  of  his  army. 
By  forced  marches  Napoleon  arrived  at  Ri- 
voli at  two  in  the  morning  of  the  I4th,  and 
from  that  elevated  situation,  by  the  assist- 
ance of  a  clear  moonlight,  he  was  able  to 
discover,  that  the  bivouac  of  the  enemy  was 
divided  into  five  distinct  and  separate  bod- 
ies, from  which  he  inferred  that  their  attack 
the  next  day  would  be  made  in  the  same 
number  of  columns. 

The  distance  at  which  the  bivouacs  were 
stationed  from  the  position  of  Joubert,  made 
it  evident  to  Napoleon  that  they  did  not 
mean  to  make  their  attack  before  ten  in 
the  morning,  meaning  probably  to  wait  for 
their  infantry  and  artillery.  Joubert  was 
at  this  time  in  the  act  of  evacuating  the  po- 
sition which  he  only  occupied  by  a  rear- 
guard. Buonaparte  commanded  him  in- 
stantly to  counter-march  and  resume  pos- 
session of  the  important  eminence  of 
Rivoli. 

A  few  Croats  had  already  advanced  so 
near  the  French  line  as  to  discover  that 
Joubert's  light  troops  had  abandoned  the 
chapel  of  Saint  Marc,  of  which  they  took 
possession.    It  was  retaken  by  the  French, 
and  the  struggle  to  recover  and  maintain  it 
brought  on  a  severe  action,  first  with  the 
regiment  to  which  the  detachment  of  Croats 
belonged,  and  afterwards  with  the  whole 
Austrian  column  which  lay  nearest  to  that 
point,  and  which  was  commanded  by  Ocs- 
kay.    The  latter  was  repulsed,  but  the  col- 
umn of  Kobler  pressed  forward  to  support 
them,  and  having  gained  the  summit,  at- 
tacked two  regiments  of  the  French  who 
were  stationed  there,  each  protected  by  a 
battery  of  cannon.    Notwithstanding  this 
advantage,  one  of  the  regiments  gave  way, 
and   Buonaparte  himself  galloped  to  bring 
up  reinforcements.     The   nearest  French 
were  those  of  Massena's  division,  which, 
tired  with  the  preceding  night's  march,  had 
lain  down  to  take  some  rest.    They  started 
up,  however,  at  the  command  of  Napoleon, 
and  suddenly  arriving  on  the  field,  in  half 
an  hour  the  column  of  Kobler  was  beaten 
and  driven  back.    That  of  Liptay  advanced 
in  turn  ;  and  Quasdonowich,  observing  that 
Joubert,   in  prosecuting  his  success  over 
the  division  of  Ocskay,  had  pushed  forward 
and  abandoned  the  chapel  of  Saint  Marc, 
detached  three  battalions  to  ascend  the  hill, 
and  occupy  that  post.     While  the  Austrians 
scaled,  on  one  side,  the  hill  on  which  the 
chapel  is  situated,  fhree  battalions  of  FrenclJ 
infantry,  who  had  been  counter-marched  by 
Joubert  to  prevent  Quasdonowich's  purpose, 
struggled  up  the  steep  ascent  on  another 
point.    The  activity  of  the  French  brought 


Chap.  XXV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


2o3 


Ihera  first  to  the  summit,  and  having  then 
the  advantage  of  the  ground,  it  was  no  dif- 
fictlt  matter  for  them  to  force  the  advanc- 
ing Austrians  headlong  down  the  hill  which 
they  were  er>deavouring  to  climb.  Mean- 
time, the  French  batteries  thundered  on 
the  broken  columns  of  the  enemy— their  cav- 
alry made  repeated  charges,  and  the  whole 
Austrians  who  had  been  engaged  fell  into 
inextricable  disorder.  The  columns  which 
had  advanced  were  irretrievably  defeated ; 
those  who  remained  were  in  such  a  condi- 
tion, that  to  attack  would  have  been  mad- 
ness. 

Amid  this  confusion  the  division  of  Lu- 
signan,  which  was  the  most  remote  of  the 
Austrian  columns,  being  intrusted  with  the 
charge  of  the  artillery  and  baggage  of  the 
army,  had,  after  depositing  these  according 
to  order,  mounted  the  heights  of  Rivoli, 
and  assumed  a  position  in  rear  of  the  French. 
Had  this  column  attained  the  same  ground 
while  the  engagement  continued  in  front, 
the"e  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  would  have 
been  decisive  against  Napoleon.  Even 
as  it  was,  their  appearance  in  the  rear 
would  have  startled  troops,  however  brave, 
who  had  less  confidence  in  their  gener- 
al ;  but  those  of  Buonaparte  only  exclaim- 
ed, "There  arrive  farther  supplies  to  our 
market,"  in  full  reliance  that  their  com- 
mander could  not  be  out-manoeuvred.  The 
Austrian  division,  on  the  other  hand,  arriv- 
ing after  the  battle  was  lost,  being  without 
artillery  or  cavalry,  and  having  been  oblig- 
ed to  leave  a  proportion  of  their  numbers 
to  keep  a  check  upon  a  French  brigade,  felt 
that,  instead  of  being  in  a  position  to  cut 
off  the  French,  by  attacking  their  rear 
while  their  front  was  engaged,  they  them- 
selves were  cut  off  by  the  intervention  of 
the  victorious  French  betwixt  them  and 
their  defeated  army.  Lusignan's  division 
■was  placed  under  a  heavy  fire  of  the  artil- 
lery in  reserve,  and  was  soon  obliged  to  lay 
down  its  arms.  So  critical  are  the  events 
of  war,  that,  a  military  movement,  which, 
executed  at  .one  particular  period  of  time, 
would  have  insured  victory,  is  not  unlikely, 
from  the  loss  of  a  brief  interval,  to  occasion 
only  more  general  calamity.*  The  Austri- 
ans, on  this,  as  on  some  other  occasions, 
verified  too  much  Napoleon's  allegation,  , 
that  they  did  not  sufficiently  consider  the  I 
value  of  time  in  military  affairs. 

The  field  of  Rivoli  was  one  of  the  most 
desperate  that  Buonaparte  ever  won,  and  I 
was  gained  entirely  by  superior  military  I 
skill,  and  not  by  the  overbearing  system  of  | 
mere  force  of  numbers,  to  which  he  has  i 
been  accused  of  being  partial.  He  himself  i 
had  his  horse  repeatedly  wounded  in  the  I 

*  It  is  represented  in  some  military  accounts,  I 
hat  the  division  which  appeared  in  the  rear  of  thi-  ' 
French  belonged  to  tlio  army  of  Provera,  ami  had 
been  delac'ieii  by  him  on  crossing  the  Adijje,  as  i 
mentioned  below      But  Napoleon'*  f-aiiit  Helena  | 
manuscripts  prove  the  contrary.      Provera  oiilv 
crossed  on  the  14th  January,  and  it  was  on  the  ' 
morning  of  the  same  day  that  \iipolcon  hail  scon  ' 
the  five  divisions  of  Aivinzi,  that  of  Lusignan  ' 
which  aAerwards  appeared  in  the  rear  of  his  ar- 
my heing  one,  lying  around  Joiibcrt's  ixisitiuncf 
Kivoli. 


course  of  the  action,  and  exerted  to  the  ut- 
most his  personal  influence  to  bring  up  the 
troops  into  action  where  their  presence  was 
most  required. 

Alvinzi'a  error,  which  was  a  very  gross 
one,  consisted  in  supposing  that  no  more 
than  Joubert's  inconsiderable  force  was  sta- 
tioned at  Rivoli,  and  in  preparing,  there- 
fore, to  destroy  him  at  his  leisure  ;  whea 
his  acquaintance  with  the  French  celerity 
of  movement  ought  to  have  prepared  him 
for  the  possibility  of  Buonaparte's  night- 
march,  by  which,  bringing  up  the  chosen 
strength  of  his  army  into  the  position  where 
the  enemy  only  expected  to  find  a  feeble 
force,  he  was  enabled  to  resist  and  defeat 
a  much  superior  army,  brought  to  the  field 
upon  different  points,  without  any  just  cal- 
culations on  the  means  of  resistance  which 
were  to  be  opposed ;  without  the  necessa- 
ry assistance  of  cavalry  and  artillery ;  and, 
above  all,  without  a  preconcerted  plan  of 
co-operation  and  mutual  support.  The 
excellence  of  Napoleon's  manoeuvres  was 
well  supported  by  the  devotion  of  his  gen- 
erals, and  the  courage  of  his  soldiers.  Mas- 
senna,  in  particular,  so  well  seconded  his 
general,  that  afterwards,  when  Napole- 
on as  Emperor  conferred  on  him  the  title 
of  duke,  he  assigned  him  his  designation 
from  the  battle  of  Rivoli. 

Almost  before  this  important  and  deci- 
sive victory  was  absolutely  gained,  news  ar- 
rived which  required  the  presence  of  Buon- 
aparte elsewhere.  On  the  very  same  day 
of  the  battle,  Provera,  whom  we  left  ma- 
noeuvring on  the  Lovk-er  Adige,  threw  a 
bridge  of  pontoons  over  that  river,  where 
the  French  were  not  prepared  to  oppose 
hi.s  passage,  and  pushed  forward  to  Mantua, 
the  relief  of  which  fortress  he  had  by  strat- 
agem nearly  achieved.  A  regiment  of  his 
cavalry,  wearing  white  cloaks,  and  resem- 
bling in  that  particular  the  first  regiment  of 
French  hussars,  presented  themselves  be- 
fore the  suburb  of  Saint  George,  then  only 
covered  by  a  mere  line  of  circumvallation. 
The  barricades  were  about  to  be  opened 
without  suspicion,  when  it  occurred  to  a  sa- 
gacious old  French  sergeant,  who  was  be- 
yond the  walls  gathering  wood,  that  the 
dress  of  this  regiment  of  white-cloaks  was 
fresher  than  that  of  the  French  corps,  call- 
ed Bertini's.  for  whom  they  were  mistaken. 
He  communicated  his  suspicions  to  a  drum- 
mer wlio  was  near  him  ;  they  gained  the 
suburb,  and  cried  to  arms,  and  the  guns  of 
tlie  defences  were  opened  on  the  hostile 
cavalry  whoni  they  were  about  to  have  ad- 
mitted in  the  guise  of  friends. 

About  the  time  that  this  incident  took 
place,  Buonaparte  himself  arrived  at  Rover- 
bella,  within  twelve  miles  of  Mantua,  to 
which  he  had  marched  with  incredible 
iles])atch  from  the  field  of  battle  at  Rivoli, 
leaving  to  Massena,  Murat,  and  Joubert,  the 
task  of  completing  his  victory,  by  the  close 
pursuit  of  Aivinzi  and  his  scattered  forces. 

In  the  rneaiiwliiie,  Provera  communicat- 
ed with  ttie  garrison  of  Mantua  across  the 
lake,  lad  concerted  the  measures  for  its 
relief  Willi  W'urmser.  On  the  16th  of  Jan- 
tiarv,  being  the  morning  after  the  battle  of 


254 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXV. 


Rivoli,  and  the  unsuccessful  attempt  to  sur- 
prise the  suburb  of  Saint  George,  the  garri- 
fon  of  Mantua  sallied  from  the  place  in 
strength,  and  took  post  at  the  causeway  of 
La  Favorita,  being  the  only  one  which  is 
defended  by  an  inclosed  citadel,  or  inde- 
pendent fortress.  Napoleon,  returning  at 
the  head  of  his  victorious  forces,  surround- 
ed and  attacked  with  fury  the  troops  of 
Provera,  while  the  blockading  army  com- 
pelled the  garrison  at  the  bayonet's  point  to 
re-enter  the  besieged  city  of  Mantua.  Pro- 
vera, who  had  in  vain,  though  with  much 
decision  and  gallantry,  attempted  the  relief 
of  Mantua,  which  his  Imperial  master  had 
BO  much  at  heart,  was  compelled  to  lay 
down  his  arms  with  a  division  of  about  five 
thousand  men,  whom  he  had  still  united  un- 
der his  person.  The  detached  corps  which 
he  had  left  to  protect  his  bridge,  and  other 
passes  in  his  rear,  sustained  a  similar  fate. 
Thus,  one  division  of  the  army,  which  had 
commenced  the  campaign  of  January  only 
on  the  7th  of  that  month,  were  the  prison- 
ers of  the  destined  conqueror  before  ten 
days  had  elapsed.  The  larger  army,  com- 
manded by  Alvinzi,  had  no  better  fortune. 
They  were  close  pursued  from  the  bloody 
field  of  Rivoli,  and  never  were  permitted 
to  draw  breath  or  to  recover  their  disorder. 
Large  bodies  were  intercepted  and  com- 
pelled to  surrender,  a  practice  now  so  fre- 
quent among  the  Austrian  troops,  that  it 
ceased  to  be  shameful. 

Nevertheless,  one  example  is  so  peculiar 
as  to  deserve  commemoration,  as  a  striking 
example  of  the  utter  consternation  and  dis- 
persion of  the  Austrians  after  this  dreadful 
defeat,  and  of  the  confident  and  audacious 
promptitude  which  the  French  officers  de- 
rived from  their  unvaried  success.  Rene,  a 
young  officer,  was  in  possession  of  the  vil- 
lage called  Garda,  on  the  lake  of  the  same 
name,  and,  in  visiting  his  advanced  posts, 
he  perceived  some  Austrians  approaching, 
whom  he  caused  his  escort  to  surround  and 
make  prisoners.  Advancing  to  the  front  to 
reconnoitre,  he  found  himself  close  to  the 
head  of  an  imperial  column  of  eighteen 
hundred  men,  which  a  turning  in  the  road 
had  concealed  till  he  was  within  twenty 
yards  of  them.  "Down  with  your  arms  '■' 
said  the  Austrian  commandant  ;  to  which 
Rene  answered  with  the  most  ready  bold- 
ness, '•'  Do  you  lay  down  your  arms  !  I 
have  destroyed  your  advanced  guard,  as  wit- 
ness these  prisoners — ground  your  arms,  or 
no  quarter.''  And  the  French  soldiers  catch- 
ing the  hint  of  their  leader,  joined  in  the 
cry  of '•  Ground  your  arms."  The  .\ustri- 
an  officer  hesitated,  and  proposed  to  enter 
into  capitulation  ;  the  Frenchman  would 
admit  of  no  terms  but  instant  and  immedi- 
ate surrender.  The  dispirited  imperialist 
yielded  up  his  sword,  and  commanded  his 
eoldiers  to  imitate  his  example.  But  the 
Austrian  soldiers  began  to  suspect  the 
truth  ;  they  became  refractory,  and  refused 
to  obey  their  leader,  whom  Reni.-  addressed 
with  the  utmost  apparent  composure.  '•'  You 
<ire  an  officer,  sir,  and  a  man  of  honour—you 
know  the  rules  of  war — you  have  surrender- 
fid— you  are  therefore  my  prisoner,  but  I 


rely  on  your  parole— Here,  1  return  your 
sword — compel  your  men  to  submission, 
otherwise  I  direct  against  you  the  division 
of  si.x  thousand  men  who  are  under  my 
command.''"  The  Austrian  was  utterly  con- 
founded, betwixt  the  appeal  to  his  honour 
and  the  threat  of  a  charge  from  six  thou- 
sand men.  He  assured  Rene  he  might  re- 
ly on  his  punctilious  compliance  with  the 
parole  he  had  given  him  ;  and  speaking  in, 
German  to  his  soldiers,  persuaded  them  to 
lay  down  their  arms,  ?  submission  which 
he  had  soon  afterward  the  satisfaction  to 
see  had  been  made  to  one  twelfth  part  of 
their  number. 

Amid  such  extraordinary  success,  the 
ground  which  the  French  had  lost  in  Italy 
was  speedily  resumed.  Trent  and  Bassano 
were  again  occupied  by  the  French.  They 
regained  all  the  positions  and  strong-holds 
which  tliey  had  possessed  on  the  frontiers 
of  Italy  before  Alvinzi's  first  descent,  and 
might  perhaps  have  penetrated  deeper  in- 
to the  mountainous  frontier  of  Germany, 
but  for  the  snow  which  choked  up  the 
passes. 

One  c'owning  consequence  of  the  victo- 
ries of  Rivoli  and  of  La  Favorita,  was  the 
surrender  of  Mantua  itself,  that  prize  which 
had  cost  so  much  blood,  and  had  been  de- 
fended v/ith  such  obstinacy. 

For  several  days  after  the  decisive  ac- 
tions which  left  him  without  a  shadow  of 
hope  or  relief,  Wurmser  continued  the  de- 
fence of  the  place  in  a  sullen  yet  honoura- 
ble despair,  natural  to  the  feelings  of  a  gal- 
lant veteran,  who,  to  the  last,  hesitated  be- 
tween the  desire  to  resist,  and  the  sense 
that,  his  moans  of  subsistence  being  almost 
totally  expended,  resistance  was  absolutely 
hopeless.  At  length  he  sent  his  aid-de- 
camp, Klenau  {.ifterwards  a  name  of  celeb- 
rity,) to  the  head-quarters  of  Serrurier,  who 
commanded  the  blockade,  to  treat  of  a  sur- 
render. Klenau  used  the  customary  lan- 
guage on  such  occasions.  He  expatiated 
on  the  means  which  he  said  Mantua  still 
possessed  of  holding  out,  but  said  that  as 
Wurmser  doubted  whether  the  place  could 
be  relieved  in  time,  he  would  regulate  hia 
conduct  as  to  immediate  submission,  or  far- 
ther defence,  according  to  the  conditions 
of  surrender  to  which  the  French  generals 
were  willing  to  admit  him. 

A  French  officer  of  distinction  was  pres- 
ent, muffled  in  his  cloak,  and  remaining 
apart  from  the  two  officers,  but  within  hear- 
ing of  what  had  passed.  When  their  dis- 
cussion was  finished,  this  unknown  person 
stepped  forward,  and  taking  a  pen,  wrote 
down  the  conditions  of  surrender  to  which 
Wurmser  was  to  be  admitted — conditions 
more  honourable  and  favourable  by  far  than 
what  his  extremity  could  have  exacted. 
"  These,"  said  the  unknown  officer  to  Kle- 
nau, "are  the  terms  which  Wurmser  may 
accept  at  present,  and  which  will  be  equal- 
ly tendered  to  him  at  any  period  when  he 
finds  farther  resistance  impossible.  We 
are  aware  that  he  is  too  much  a  man  of 
honour  to  give  up  the  fortress  and  city,  so 
long  and  honourably  defended,  while  the 
means  gf  resistance  remain  in  his  power. 


Chap.  XX VI.]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


251 


If  he  delays  accepting  the  conditions  for 
a  week,  for  a  month,  for  two  months, 
tliey  shall  be  equally  his  when  he  choos- 
es to  accept  them.  To-morrow  I  pass  the 
Po,  and  march  upon  Rome."  Klenau,  per- 
ceiving that  he  spoke  to  the  French  com- 
mander-in-chief, frankly  admitted  that  the 
garrison  could  not  longer  delay  surrender, 
having  scarce  three  days'  provisions  uncon- 
Bumed. 

This  trait  of  generosity  towards  a  gallant 
but  unfortunate  enemy,  was  highly  honour- 
able to  Buonaparte.  The  taste  which  dic- 
tated the  stage-effect  of  the  cloak  may  in- 
deed be  questioned  ;  but  the  real  current 
of  his  feeling  towards  the  venerable  object 
of  his  respect,  and  at  the  same  time  com- 
passion, is  ascertained  otherwise.  He  wrote 
to  the  Directory  on  the  subject,  that  he 
had  afforded  to  Wurmser  such  conditions 
of  surrender  as  became  the  generosity  of 
the  French  nation  towards  an  enemy,  who, 
having  lost  his  army  by  misfortune,  was  so 
little  desirous  to  secure  his  personal  safety, 
that  he  threw  himself  into  Mantua,  cutting 
his  way  tlirough  the  blockading  army  ;  thus 
voluntarily  undertaking  the  privations  of 
a  siege,  which  his  gallantry  protracted  un- 
til almost  the  last  morsel  of  provisions  was 
exhausted. 

But  the  young  victor  paid  still  a  more 
delicate  and  noble-minded  compliment,  in 
declining  to  be  personally  present  when  the 
veteran  Wurmser  had  the  mortification  to 
Burrender  his  sword,  with  his  garrison  of 
twenty  thousand  men,  ten  thousand  of 
■whom  were  fit  for  service.  This  self-de- 
nial did  Napoleon  as  much  credit  nearly  as 
his  victory,  and  must  not  be  omitted  in  a 
narrative,  which,  often  called  to  stigmatise 
his  ambition  and  its  consequences,  should 
not  be  the  less  ready  to  observe  marks  of 


dignified  and  honourable  feeling.  The  his- 
tory of  this  remarkable  man  more  frequent- 
ly reminds  us  of  the  romantic  and  improb- 
able victories  imputed  to  the  heroes  of  the 
romantic  ages,  than  of  the  spirit  of  chivalry 
attributed  to  them ;  but  in  this  instance  Na- 
poleon's conduct  towards  Wurmser  may  be 
justly  compared  to  that  of  the  Black  Prince 
to  his  royal  prisoner.  King  John  of  France. 

Serrurier,  who  had  conducted  the  leaguer, 
had  the  honour  to  receive  the  surrender  of 
Wurmser,  after  the  siege  of  Mantua  had 
continued  for  six  months,  during  which  the 
garrison  is  said  by  Napoleon  to  have  lost 
twenty-seven  thousand  men  by  disease, 
and  in  the  various,  numerous  and  bloody 
I  sallies  which  took  place.  This  decisive 
event  put  an  end  to  the  war  in  Italy.  The 
contest  with  Austria  was  hereafter  to  be 
waged  on  the  hereditary  dominions  of  that 
haughty  power. 

The  French,  possessed  of  this  grand  ob- 
ject of  their  wishes,  were  not  long  in  dis- 
playing their  national  characteristics.  Their 
military  and  prescient  sagacity  were  evinc- 
ed in  employing  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
of  their  engineers,  to  improve  and  bring 
nearly  to  perfection  ihe  defence  of  a  city 
which  may  be  termed  the  citadel  of  Italy. 
They  set  afoot,  besides,  civic  feasts  and  cer- 
emonies, and  among  others,  one  in  honour 
of  Virgil,  who,  being  the  panegyrist  of  an 
emperor,  was  inditferently  selected  as  the 
presiding  genius  of  an  infant  republic. 
Their  cupidity  was  evinced  by  their  artists' 
exercising  their  ingenuity  in  devising  means 
to  cut  from  the  wall  and  carry  off  the  fresco 
paintings,  by  Titian,  of  the  wars  between 
the  Gods  and  the  Giants,  at  all  risks  of  de- 
stroying what  could  never  be  replaced. 
Luckily  the  attempt  was  found  totally  unad 
visable. 


CHAP.  KXVl. 

Situation  and  Views  of  Buonaparte  at  this  period  of  the  Campaign. — His  politic  Con- 
duct towards  the  Italians — Popularity. — Severe  terms  of  Peace  proposed  to  the  Pope — 
rejected. — Napoleon  differs  from  the  Directory,  and  Negotiations  are  renewed — but 
again  rejected. —  The  Pope  raises  his  army  to  W.OOO  Men — Napoleon  invades  the  Pa- 
pal Territories. —  The  Papal  Troops  defeated  near  Imola — arid  at  Ancona— which  is 
Captured — Loretto  taken. — Clemency  of  Buonaparte  to  the  French  recusant  Clergy. — 
Peace  of  Tolenlino. — Napoleons  Letter  to  the  Pope. — San  Marino. —  View  of  the 
situation  of  the  different  Italian  States — Rome — Naples — Tuscany — Venice. 


The  eyes  of  all  Europe  were  now  riveted 
on  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  whose  rise  had 
been  so  sudden  that  he  was  become  the  ter- 
ror of  empires  and  the  founder  of  states  ; 
the  conqueror  of  the  best  generals  and  most 
disciplined  troops  in  Europe,  within  a  few 
months  after  he  had  been  a  mere  soldier  of 
fortune,  seeking  rather  for  subsistence  than 
expecting  honourable  distinction.  Such 
sudden  elevations  have  occasionally  hap- 
pened amid  semi-barbarous  nations,  wh<'re 
great  popular  insurrections,  desolating  and 
decisive  revolutions,  are  common  occur- 
rences, but  were  hitherto  unheard  of  in  civ- 
ilized Europe.  The  pre-eminence  which 
he  had  suddenly  obtained  had,  besides,  been 
subjected  to -so  many  trials,  as  to  alford  ev- 


ery proof  of  its   permanence,      Napoleoii 

stood  aloft  like  a  cliff  on  which  successive 

tempests  had  expended  their  rage  in  vain. 

The  means  which  raised  him  were  equally 

competent  ti)  make  good  his  greatness.    He 

had  infused  into  the  armies  which  he  com- 

[  manded  the  firmest  reliance  on  his  genius, 

and  the  greatest  love  for  his  person  ;  so  that 

lie  could  always  find  agents  ready  to  exe- 

I  cute  his  most  difficult  commands.     He  had 

I  even  inspired  them  with  a  portion  of  his 

own  indefatigable  exertion  and  coinmand- 

I  ing  intelligence.    The  maxim  which  he  in- 

j  culcated  upon  them  when  practising  those 

;  long  ami  severe  marches  which  formed  one 

'  essential  part  of  his  system,  was,  "  I  would 

rather  gain  victory  at  the  expense  of  your 


256 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXVI. 


le^  than  at  the  price  of  your  blood."  The 
French,  under  his  training,  seemed  to  be- 
come the  very  men  he  wanted,  and  to  for- 
get, in  the  excitation  of  war  and  the  hope 
of  victory,  even  the  feelings  of  weariness 
and  exhaustion.  The  following  description 
of  the  French  soldier  by  Napoleon  himself 
occurs  in  his  despatches  to  the  Directory 
during  his  first  campaign  in  Italy  : — 

"  Were  I  to  name  all  those  who  have 
been  distinguished  by  acts  of  personal  brave- 
ry, I  must  send  the  muster-roll  of  all  the 
grenadiers  and  carabiniers  of  the  advanced- 
guard.  They  jest  with  danger  and  laugh  at 
death  ;  and  if  anything  can  equal  their  in- 
trepidity, it  is  the  gaiety  with  which,  singing 
alternately  songs  of  love  and  patriotism,  they 
accomplish  the  most  severe  forced  marches. 
When  they  arrive  at  their  bivouac,  it  is  not 
to  take  their  repose,  as  might  be  expected, 
but  to  tell  each  his  story  of  the  battle  of  the 
day,  and  produce  his  plan  for  that  of  to-mor- 
row ;  and  many  of  them  think  with  great 
correctness  on  military  subjects.  The  oth- 
er day  I  was  inspecting  a  demi-brigade,  and 
as  it  filed  past  me,  a  common  chasseur  ap- 
proached my  horse,  and  said, '  (ieneral,  you 
ought  to  do  so  and  so.' — '  Hold  your  peace, 
you  rogue  !'  I  replied.  He  disappeared  im- 
mediately, nor  have  I  since  been  able  to 
find  him  out.  Bat  the  manoeuvre  which  he 
recommended  was  the  very  same  which  I 
had  privately  resolved  to  carry  into  exe- 
cution." 

To  command  this  active,  intelligent,  and 
intrepid  soldiery,  Buonaparte  possessed  of- 
ficers entirely  worthy  of  the  charge  ;  men 
young,  or  at  least  not  advanced  in  years,  to 
whose  ambition  the  Revolution,  and  the 
wars  which  it  had  brought  on,  had  opened 
an  unlimited  career,  and  whose  genius  was 
inspired  by  the  plans  of  their  leader,  and 
the  success  which  attended  them.  Buona- 
parte, who  had  his  eye  on  every  man,  never 
neglected  to  distribute  rewards  and  punish- 
ments, praise  and  censure,  with  a  liberal 
hand,  or  omitted  to  press  for  what  latterly 
was  rarely  if  ever  denied  to  him — the  pro- 
motion of  such  officers  as  particularly  dis- 
tinguished themselves.  He  willingly  as- 
sumed the  task  of  soothing  the  feelings  of 
those  whose  relations  had  fallen  under  his 
banners.  His  letter  of  consolation  to  Gen- 
eral Clarke  upon  the  death  of  young  Cl.arke 
his  nephew,  who  fell  at  Areola,  is  affecting, 
as  showing  that  amid  all  his  victories  he 
felt  himself  the  object  of  reproach  and  crit- 
icism.*   His  keen  sensitiveness  to  the  at- 


*  Letter  from  Napoleon  to  General  Clarke,  2.5 
Brumaire,  5th  year  of  tlie  Republic. — "  Your 
nephew  has  been  slain  on  the  field  of  battle  at 
Areola.  The  )ouii<j  man  had  been  familiar  with 
arms — had  led  on  columns,  and  would  Iiave  been 
one  day  an  excellent  officer.  He  has  died  with 
glory  in  the  face  of  the  enemy.  He  did  not  suffer 
for  an  instant.  What  man  would  not  envy  such 
a  death  .' — Who  is  he  that  would  not  aci^ept  as  a 
favourable  condition  the  choice  of  thug  escaping 
from  the  vicissitudes  of  a  contemptible  world.' — 
Who  is  there  among  us  who  has  not  a  Inindred 
times  regretted  that  he  has  not  lH?pn  thus  with- 
drawn from  the  powerful  effects  of  calumny,  nf  en- 
vy, and  of  all  the  odious  passions  w  liich  seem  the 
almost  exclusive  Uiructurs  uf  the  conduct  of  inaii- 


'  tacks  of  the  public  press  attended  him 
1  through  life,  and,  like  the  slave  in  the  tri- 
umphal car,  seemed  to  remind  him  that  he 
j  was  still  a  mortal  man. 
I  It  should  farther  be  remarked,  that  Napo- 
leon withstood,  instantly  and  boldly,  all  the 
numerous  attempts  made  by  commissaries, 
;ind  that  description  of  persons  to  encroach 
upon  the  fund  destined  for  the  use  of  the 
army.  Much  of  his  public,  and  more  of 
his  private  correspondence,  is  tilled  with 
complaints  against  tliese  agents,  although 
he  must  have  known  that,  in  attacking  them, 
he  disobliged  men  of  highest  influence, 
who  liad  frequently  some  secret  interest  in 
their  wealth.  But  his  military  fame  made 
his  services  indispensable,  and  permitted 
him  to  set  at  defiance  the  enmity  of  such 
persons,  who  are  generally  as  timid  as  they 
are  sordid.  Buonaparte's  former  patron, 
Barras,  was  supposed  to  be  accessible  to 
this  species  of  corruption. 

Towards  the  general  officers  there  took 
place  a  gradual  change  of  deportment,  as 
the  commander-in-chief  began  to  feel  grad- 
ually, more  and  more,  the  increasing  sense 
of  his  own  personal  importance.  We  have 
been  informed  by  an  officer  of  the  highest 
rank,  that,  during  the  earlier  campaigns. 
Napoleon  used  to  rejoice  with,  and  em-- 
brace  them  as  associates,  nearly  on  the 
same  footing,  engaged  in  the  same  tasks. 
After  a  period,  his  language  and  carriage 
became  those  of  a  frank  soldier,  who,  sen- 
sible of  the  merit  of  his  subordinate  assist- 
ants, yet  makes  them  sensible,  by  his  man- 
ner, that  he  is  their  cominander-in-cliief. 
When  his  infant  fortunes  began  to  come  of 
age,  his  deportment  to  his  generals  was 
tinctured  with  that  lofty  courtesy  which 
princes  use  towards  their  subjects,  and 
which  plainly  intimated,  that  he  held  them 
as  subjects  in  the  wau",  not  as  brethren.* 

Napoleon's  conduct  towards  the  Italians 
individually  was,  in  most  instances,  in  the 
highest  degree  prudent  and  political,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  it  coincided,  as  true  pol- 
icy usually  does,  with  the  rules  of  justice 
and  moderation,  and  served  in  a  great  meas- 
ure to  counterbalance  the  odium  which  he 
incurred  by  despoiling  Italy  of  the  works  of 
art,  and  even  by  his  infringements  on  the 
religious  system  of  the  Catholics. 

On  the  latter  subject, the  general  became 
particularly  cautious,  and  his  dislike  or 
contempt  of  the  Church  of  Rome  was  no 
longer  shown  in  that  gross  species  of  satire 
which  he  had  at  first  given  loose  to.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  veiled  under  philosoph- 
ical indifference  ;  and,  while  relieving  the 

kind  ?" — This  letter,  remarkable  in  many  respects, 
will  remind  the  English  reader  of  Cato's  exclama- 
tion over  the  body  of  his  son — 

"  Who  would  not  be  this  youth  .'" 

*  Count  Tjas  Cases  mentions  an  incident  of  the 
same  kind.  An  officer,  who  had  known  Buona- 
parte familiarly  before  Toulon,  was,  when  he  ob- 
tained the  command  of  the  Army  of  Italy,  about 
to  rush  into  the  arms  of  his  old  comrade.  But  the 
look  and  manner  of  the  general  made  it  evident 
there  was  an  end  to  their  intimacy,  and  that  th» 
intercourse  between  them  bad  changed  its  charac- 
ter with  liis  friend's  promotion. 


Chap.  XXVI.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


257 


clergj'  of  their  worldly  possessions,  Napo- 
leon took  care  to  avoid  the  error  of  the 
Jacobins  ;  never  proposing  their  tenets  as 
an  object  of  persecution,  but  protecting 
their  persons,  and  declaring  himself  a  de- 
cided friend  to  general  toleration  on  all 
points  of  conscience. 

In  point  of  politics,  as  well  as  religion, 
the  opinions  of  Buonaparte  appeared  to 
have  experienced  a  great  change.  It  may 
be  doubted,  indeed,  if  he  ever  in  his  heart 
adopted  those  of  the  outrageous  Jacobins  5 
but  he  must  doubtless  have  professed  them, 
whether  sincerely  or  not,  when  he  first  ob- 
tained promotion  under  the  influence  of  the 
younger  Robespierre,  Salicetti,  and  Barras, 
who,  afterwards  a  Thermidorien,  was  a  Sans 
Culotte  during  the  siege  of  Toulon.'*  Buo- 
naparte's clear  and  sound  good  sense  speed- 
ily made  him  sensible,  that  such  a  violence 
on  the  established  rules  of  reason  and  mo- 
rality, as  an  attempt  to  make  the  brutal 
force  of  the  multitude  the  forcible  control- 
ler of  those  possessed  of  the  wisdom,  prop- 
erty, and  education  of  a  country,  is  too  un- 
natural to  remain  long,  or  to  become  the 
basis  of  a  well-regulated  state.  Being  at 
present  a  Republican  of  the  Thermidorien 
party,  Buonaparte,  even  though  he  made 
use  of  the  established  phrases  Liberty  and 
Equality,  acknowledged  no  dignity  superi- 
or than  Citizen,  and  Thee'd  and  Thou'd 
whomsoever  he  addressed,  was  permitted 
to  mix  many  grains  of  liberality  with  those 
democratic  forms.  Indeed,  the  republican 
creed  of  the  day  began  to  resemble  the 
leathern  apron  of  the  brazier  who  founded  a 
dynasty  in  the  East — his  descendants  contin- 
ued tn  display  it  as  their  banner,  but  en- 
riched it  so  much  with  gems  and  embroide- 
ry, that  there  was  little  of  the  original  stuff 
to  be  discovered. 

Jacobinism,  for  example,  being  founded 
on  the  pvinciple  of  assimilating  the  nation- 
al character  to  the  gross  ignorance  of  the 
lower  classes,  was  the  natural  enemy  of 
the  fine  arts  and  of  literature,  whose  pro- 
ductions the  Sans  Culottes  could  not  com- 
prehend, and  which  they  destroyed  for  the 
same  enlightened  reasons  that  Jack  Cade's 
followers  hanged  the  clerk  of  Chatham, 
with  his  pen  and  inkhorn  about  his  neck. 
Buonaparte,  on  the  contrary,  saw  that 
knowledge,  of  whatsoever  kind,  was  power  ; 
and  therefore  he  distinguished  himself  hon- 
ourably amidst  his  victories,  by  seeking  the 


*  Even  when  before  Toulon,  he  was  not  liclil  by 
clear-sighted  persons  to  be  a  very  orthoilox  Jaco- 
bin. General  Uartau-x,  the  stupid  Sans  Culotte 
under  wlioni  he  first  served,  was  talking  of  the 
young  commandant  of  artillery  with  applause, 
when  his  wife,  who  was  somewhat  first  in  com- 
munil  at  home,  advised  him  not  to  reckon  too  much 
on  that  young  man,  "  who  had  too  mnr.h  sense  to 
!>e  long  a  Sans  Culotte." — "Sense.'  Female-eiti- 
/.en  Cartaux,"said  her  offended  husband,  "  do  yon 
:nke  lis  for  fools.'" — "By  no  means,"  answered 
I  lie  lady  ;  "  but  his  .sense  is  not  of  the  same  kind 
with  yours." — Las  Cases'  Journal,  vol.  I.  p.  144. 
Ciilbm-n'.i  Translatinn. — In  the  same  work  we 
read  an  .I'lmission  of  Napoleon,  that  his  hrother 
Ijiicien  was  a  much  more  violent  Jacobin  than 
himself,  and  that  somn  papers  published  as  his, 
with  the  siL'iiature,  Hriitus  Hiionapartc,  ought  in* 
fact  to  be  ascribed  to  Lucieii. 


!  conversation  of  men  distinguished  for  litera- 
j  ry  attainments,  and  displaying  an  interest 
in  the  antiquities  and  curiosities  of  the 
I  towns  which  he  visited,  that  could  not  but 
seem  flattering  to  the  inhabitants.  In  a 
letter  addressed  publicly  to  Oriani,  a  cele- 
brated astronomer,  he  assures  him  that  all 
men  of  genius,  all  who  had  distinguished 
themselves  in  the  republic  of  letters,  were 
to  be  accounted  natives  of  France,  whatev- 
er might  be  the  actual  place  of  their  birth. 
"  Hitherto,"  he  said,  "  the  learned  in  Italy 
did  not  enjoy  the  consideration  to  which 
they  were  entitled — they  lived  retired  in 
their  laboratories  and  libraries,  too  happy 
if  they  could  escape  the  notice,  and  con- 
sequently the  persecution,  of  kings  and 
priests.  It  is  now  no  longer  thus — there  is 
no  longerreligious  inquisition,  nor  despotic 
power.  Thought  is  free  in  Italy.  I  invite 
the  literary  and  scientific  persons  to  consult 
together,  and  propose  to  me  their  ideas  on 
the  subject  of  giving  new  vigour  and  life 
to  the  fine  arts  and  sciences.  All  who  de- 
sire to  visit  France  will  be  received  with 
distinction  by  the  government.  The  peo- 
ple of  France  have  more  pride  in  enrolling 
among  their  citizens  a  skilful  mathemati- 
cian, a  painter  of  reputation,  a  distinguish- 
ed man  in  any  class  of  literature,  than  in 
adding  to  their  territories  a  large  and  weal- 
thy city.  I  request,  sir,  that  you  will  nrike 
my  sentiments  known  to  the  most  distin- 
guished literary  persons  in  the  state  of  Mi- 
lan." To  the  municipality  of  Pavia  he  wrote, 
desiring  that  the  professors  of  their  cele- 
brated university  should  resume  their  course 
of  instruction  under  the  security  of  his  pro- 
tection, and  inviting  them  to  point  out  to  him 
such  measures  as  might  occur,  for  giving  a 
more  brilliant  existence  to  their  ancient 
seminaries. 

The  interest  which  he  thus  took  in  the 
literature  and  literary  institutions  of  Italy, 
was  shown  by  admitting  men  of  science  or 
letters  freely  to  his  person.     Their  com- 
munication was  the  more  flattering,  that  be- 
ing himself  of  Italian  descent,  and  familiar 
with  the  beautiful  language  of  the  country 
from  his  infancy,  his  conversation  with  men 
of  literary  eminence  was  easily  conducted. 
It  may  be  mentioned  episodically,  that  Na- 
poleon found  a  remnant  of  his  family  in  It- 
aly, in  the  person  of  the  Abbe  Gregorio 
Buonaparte,  the  only  remaining  branch  of 
that  Florentine  family,  of  whom  the  Cor- 
sican  line  were  cadets.     He  resided  at  San 
Miniato,  of  which  he  was  canon,  and  was 
an  old  man,  and  said  to  be  wealthy.    The 
relationship    was    eagerly    acknowledged, 
i  and  the  general  with  his  whole  staff,  dined 
I  with    the    Canon    (iregorio.     The    whole 
I  mind  of  the  old  priest  was  wrapt  up  in  a 
i  project  of  obtaining  the  honours  of  regular 
'  canonization  for  one   of  the  family  called 
I  Bonaveiitura,  who  had  been  a  capuchin  in 
j  the  17th  century,  and  was  said  to  have  died 
in  the  odour  of  sanctity,  though  his  right 
(  to  divine  honours  had  never  been  acknowl- 
j  edged.  It  must  have  been  ludicrous  enough 
I  to  have  heard  the  old  man  insist  upon  a  to- 
pic so  uninteresting  to  Napoleon,  and  press 
the  French  republican  general  to  use  hia 


258 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXVI. 


interest  with  the  Pope.  There  can  be  lit- 
tle doubt  that  the  Holy  Father,  to  have  es- 
caped other  demands,  would  have  canoniz- 
ed a  whole  French  regiment  of  Carmagnols, 
and  ranked  them  with  the  old  militia  of  the 
calendar,  the  Theban  Legion.  But  Napo- 
leon wassensible  that  any  request  on  such  a 
subject  coming  from  him  would  be  only  lu- 
dicrous.* 

The  progress  which  Buonaparte  made 
personally  in  the  favour  of  the  Italians,  was, 
doubtless,  a  great  assistance  to  the  propa- 
gation of  the  new  doctrines  which  were  con- 
nected with  the  French  Revolution,  and 
was  much  aided  by  the  trust  which  he 
seemed  desirous  to  repose  in  the  natives 
of  the  country.  He  retained,  no  doubt,  in 
his  own  hands,  the  ultimate  decision  of  ev- 
erything of  consequence  ;  but  in  matters 
of  ordinary  importance,  he  permitted  and 
encouraged  the  Italians  to  act  for  them- 
selves, in  a  manner  they  had  not  been  ac- 
customed to  under  their  German  masters. 
The  internal  government  of  their  towns 
wais  entrusted  to  provisional  governors, 
chosen  without  respect  to  rant,  and  the 
maintenance  of  police  was  committed  to 
the  armed  burghers,  or  national  guards. 
Conscious  of  the  importance  annexed  to 
these  privileges,  they  already  became  im- 
patient for  national  liberty.  Napoleon 
could  hardly  rein  back  the  intense  ardour 
of  the  large  party  among  the  Lombards  who 
desired  an  immediate  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence, and  he  had  no  other  expedient 
left  than  to  amuse  them  with  procrastinat- 
ing excuses,  which  enhanced  their  desire 
of  such  an  event,  while  they  delayed  its 
gratification.  Other  towns  of  Italy, — for  it 
was  among  the  citizens  of  the  towns  that 
these  sentiments  were  chiefly  cultivated, — 
began  to  evince  the  same  wish  to  new-mod- 
el their  governments  on  the  revolutionary 
system  5  and  this  ardour  was  chiefly  shown 
on  the  southern  side  of  the  Po. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that  Napoleon 
had  engaged  in  treaty  with  the  Duke  of 
Modena,  and  had  agreed  to  guarantee 
his  principality,  on  payment  of  immense 
contributions  in  money  and  stores,  besides 
the  surrender  of  the  most  valuable  treas- 
ures of  his  museum.  In  consequence,  the 
Duke  of  Modena  was  permitted  to  govern 
hia  states  by  a  regency,  he  himself  fixing 
his  residence  in  Venice.  But  his  two  prin- 
cipal towns,  Reggio  and  Modena,  especially 
the  former,  became  desirous  of  shaking  off 
his  government.  Anticipating  in  doing  so 
the  approbation  of  the  French  general  and 
government,  the  citizens  of  Reggio  rose  in 
insurrection,  expelled  from  their  town  a 
body  of  the  ducal  troops,  and  planted  the 


*  Las  Cases  says,  that  afterwards  the  Pope 
himself  touched  on  the  same  topic,  and  was  dis- 
posed to  see  the  immediate  guidance  and  protec- 
tion afforded  by  the  consanguinean  Saint  Bonaven- 
tnra  in  tlie  great  deeds  wrought  by  his  relation. 
It  was  said  of  the  church-endowing  saint,  David 
King  of  Scotland,  that  he  was  a  sore  saint  for  the 
Crown ;  certainly  Saint  Bonaventura  must  have 
been  a  sore  saint  for  the  Papal  See.  The  old  Ab- 
be left  Napoleon  his  fortune,  which  he  conferred 
•n  some  public  institution. 


tree  of  liberty,  resolved,  as  they  said,  to 
constitute  themselves  a  free  state,  under 
the  protection  of  the  French  Republic. 
The  Ducal  regency,  with  a  view  of  protect- 
ing Modena  from  a  similar  attempt,  mount- 
ed cannon  on  their  ramparts,  and  took  other 
defensive  measures. 

Buonaparte  affected  to  consider  these 
preparations  as  designed  against  the  French  ; 
and  marching  a  body  of  troops,  took  pos- 
session of  the  city  without  resistance,  de- 
prived the  Duke  of  all  the  advantages 
which  he  had  purchased  by  the  mediation  of 
the  celebrated  Saint  Jerome,  and  declared 
the  town  under  protection  of  France.  Bo- 
logna and  Ferrara,  legations  belonging  to 
the  Papal  See,  had  been  already  occupied 
by  French  troops,  and  placed  under  the 
management  of  a  committee  of  their  citi- 
zens. They  were  now  encouraged  to  coa- 
lesce with  Reggio  and  Modena.  A  con- 
gress of  an  hundred  delegates  from  the 
four  districts  was  summoned,  to  effect  the 
formation  of  a  government  which  should 
extend  over  them  all.  The  Congress  met 
accordingly,  engaged  their  constituents  ia 
a  perpetual  union,  under  title  of  the  Cispa- 
dane  Republic,  from  their  situation  on 
the  right  of  the  river  Po ;  thus  assuming 
the  character  of  independence,  while  in 
fact  they  remained  under  the  authority  of 
Buonaparte,  like  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
potter,  who  may  ultimately  model  it  into 
any  shape  he  has  a  mind.  In  the  meantime, 
he  was  careful  to  remind  them,  that  the  lib- 
erty which  it  was  desirable  to  establish, 
ought  to  be  consistent  with  due  subjection 
to  the  laws.  "Never  forget,"  he  said,  in 
reply  to  their  address  announcing  their 
new  form  of  government,  "  that  laws  are 
mere  nullities  without  the  force  necessary 
to  support  them.  Attend  to  your  military 
organization,  which  you  have  the  means  of 
placing  on  a  respectable  footing — you  will 
be  more  fortunate  than  the  people  of  France, 
for  you  will  arrive  at  liberty  without  pass- 
ing through  the  ordeal  of  revolution." 

This  was  not  the  language  of  a  Jacobin ; 
and  it  fortifies  the  belief,  that  even  now, 
while  adhering  ostensibly  to  the  Republican 
system,  Buonaparte  anticipated  considera- 
ble changes  in  that  of  France. 

Meanwhile  the  Lombards  became  impa- 
tient at  seeing  their  neighbours  outstrip 
them  in  the  path  of  revolution,  and  of 
nominal  independence.  The  municipality 
of  Milan  proceeded  to  destroy  all  titles  of 
honour,  as  a  badge  of  feudal  dependence, 
and  became  so  impatient,  that  Buonaparte 
was  obliged  to  pacify  them  by  a  solemn  as- 
surance that  they  should  speedily  enjoy  the 
benefits  of  a  republican  constitution  ;  and 
to  tranquillize  their  irritation,  placed  them 
under  the  government  of  a  provisional 
council,  selected  from  all  classes,  labour- 
ers included. 

This  measure  made  it  manifest,  that  the 
motives  which  had  induced  the  delay  of 
the  French  government  to  recognize  the  in- 
dependence (as  they  termed  it)  of  Lombar- 
dy,  were  now  of  less  force  ;  and  in  a  short 
time,  the  provisional  council  of  Milan,  af- 
ter some  modest  doubts  on  their  own  pow- 


Chap.  XXVI.]  LIFE  OF  N.\POLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


259 


ere,  revolutionized  their  country,  and  as-  ;  grant,  if  he  meant  in  future  to  lay  claim  to 
Bumed  the  title  of  the  Transpadane  Repub-  j  any  authority  under  that  once  venerable  ti- 
lic,  which  they  afterwards  laid  aside,  when  !  tie.     The  Sovereign  Pontiff  was  required 


on  their  union  with  the  Cispadane,  both 
wen  united  under  the  name  of  the  Cisal- 
pine Commonwealth.  This  decisive  step 
was  adopted  3d  January  1797.  Decrees  of 
a  popular  character  had  preceded  the  decla- 
ration of  independence,  but  an  air  of  mode- 


to  recall  all  the  briefs  which  he  had  issued 
against  France  since  1789,  to  sanction  the 
constitutional  oath  which  released  the 
French  clergy  from  the  dominion  of  the 
Holy  See,  and  to  ratify  the  confiscation 
of  the  church-lands.     Treasures  might  be 


ration  was  observed  in  the  revolution  itself,    expended,  secular  dignities   resigned,  and 
The  nobles,  deprived  of  their  feudal  rights    provinces  ceded;  but  it  was  clear  that  the 


and  titular  dignities,  were  subjected  to  no 
incapacities ;  the  reformation  of  the  church 
was  touched  upon  gently,  and  without  indi- 
cating any  design  of  its  destruction.  In  these 
particulars,  the  Italian  commonwealths  stop- 
ped short  of  their  Gallic  prototype. 

If  Buonaparte  may  be  justly  charged  with 
want  of  faith,  in  destroying  the  authority 
of  the  Duke  of  Modena,  after  having  ac- 
cepted of  a  price  for  granting  him  peace 
and  protection,  we  cannot  object  to  him  the 
eame  charge  for  acceding  to  the  Transpa- 
dane Republic,  in  so  far  as  it  detached  the 
legations  of  Ferrara  and  Bologna  from  the 
Roman  See.  These  had  been  in  a  great 
measure  reserved  for  the  disposal  of  the 
French,  as  circumstances  should  dictate, 
when  a  final  treaty  should  take  place  be- 
twixt the  Republic  and  the  Sovereign  Pon- 
tiff. But  many  circumstances  had  retard- 
ed this  pacification,  and  seemed  at  length 
likely  to  break  it  off  without  hope  of  re- 
newal. 

If  Buonaparte  is  correct  in  his  statement, 
which  we  see  no  reason  to  doubt,  the  delay 
of  a  pacification  with  the  Roman  See  was 
chiefly  the  fault  of  the  Directory,  whose 
avaricious  and  engrossing  spirit  was  at  this 
period  its  most  distinguishing  characteris- 
tic. An  armistice,  purchased  by  treasure, 
by  contributions,  by  pictures  and  statues, 
and  by  the  cession  of  the  two  legations  of 
Bologna  and  Ferrara,  having  he'iti  mediat- 
ed for  his  Holiness  by  the  Spar.ish  ambas- 
sador Azara,  the  Pope  sent  two  plenipo- 
tentiaries to  Paris  to  treat  of  a  definitive 
peace.  But  the  conditions  proposed  were 
60  severe,  that  however  desperate  his  con- 
dition, the  Pope  found  them  totally  inad- 
missible. His  Holiness  was  required  to 
pay  a  large  contribution  in  grain  for  ten 
years,  a  regular  tribute  of  six  millions  of 
Roman  crowns  for  six  years,  to  cede  to 
France  in  perpetuity  the  ports  of  Ancona 
and  Civita  Vecchia,  and  to  declare  the  in- 
dependence of  Ferrara,  Bologna,  and  Ra- 
venna. To  add  insult  to  oppression,  the 
total  cession  of  the  Clementine   Museum 


Sovereign  Pontiff  could  not  do  what  was 
expressly  contrary  to  the  doctrines  of  the 
church  which  he  represented.  There 
were  but  few  clergymen  in  France  who  had 
hesitated  to  prove  their  devotion  to  the 
church  of  Rome,  by  submitting  to  expul* 
sion,  rather  than  take  the  constitutional 
oath.  It  was  now  for  the  Head  of  the 
Church  to  show  in  his  own  person  a  simi- 
lar disinterested  devotion  to  her  interests. 

Accordingly,  the  College  of  Cardinals 
having  rejected  the  proposals  of  France,  as 
containing  articles  contrary  to  conscience, 
the  Pope  declared  his  determination  to 
abide  by  the  utmost  extremit}',  rather  than 
accede  to  conditions  destructive,  degrad- 
ing, and,  in  his  opinion,  impious.  The  Di- 
rectory instantly  determined  on  the  total 
ruin  of  the  Pope,  and  of  his  power,  both 
spiritual  and  temporal. 

Napoleon  dissented  from  the  opinion  of 
the  government.  In  point  of  moral  effect, 
a  reconciliation  with  the  Pope  would  have 
been  of  great  advantage  to  France,  and  have 
tended  to  reunite  her  with  other  Catholic 
nations,  and  diminish  the  horror  with  which 
she  was  regarded  as  sacrilegious  and  athe- 
istical. Even  the  army  of  the  Holy  See 
was  not  altogether  to  be  despised,  in  case 
of  any  reverse  taking  place  in  the  war 
with  the  Austrians.  Under  these  consid- 
erations, he  prevailed  on  the  Directory  to 
renew  the  negotiations  at  Florence.  But 
the  French  commissioners,  having  present- 
ed as  preliminaries  sixty  indispensable  con- 
ditions, containing  the  same  articles  which 
had  been  already  rejected,  as  contrary  to  the 
conscience  of  the  Pontiff,  the  conferences 
broke  up;  and  the  Pope,  in  despair,  resolv- 
ed to  make  common  cause  with  the  House 
of  Austria,  and  have  recourse  to  the  secu- 
lar force,  which  the  Roman  See  had  dis- 
used for  so  many  years. 

It  was  a  case  of  dire  necessity  ;  but  the 
arming  of  the  Pope's  government,  whose 
military  force  had  been  long  the  subject  of 
ridicule,*  against  the  victorious  conqueror 
of  five  Austrian  armies,  reminds  us  of  Pri- 


was  required,  and  it  was  stipulated  that  j  am,  when,  in  extremity  of  years  and  despair, 
France  should  have  under  management  of  i  he  buckled  on  his  rusty  armour,  to  oppose 
her  minister  at  Rome,  a  separate  tribunal  age  and  decrepitude  to  the  youthful  strength 
for  judging  her  subjects,  and  a  separate  1  of  Pyrrhus.f  Yet  the  measures  of  Sextus 
theatre  for  their  amusement.  Lastly,  tlie  ]  indicated  considerable  energy.  He  brought 
secular  sovereignty  of  the  dominions  of  the  back  to  Rome  an  instalment  of  sixteen  mil- 
church  was  to  be  executed  by  a  senate  and 
a  popular  body. 

These  demands  might  have  been  com- 
plied with,  although  they  went  the  length 
of  entirely  stripping  his  Holiness  of  the 
character  of  a  secular  prince.  But  there 
were  others  made  on  him,  in  capacity  of 
head  of  the  church    which  he  could  not 


*  VoUaire,  in  some  of  his  romances,  I  Tms  the 
Pope  an  olj  gentleman  having  a  guard  of  one  hun- 
dred men,  who  mount  guard  with  umbrellas,  and 
who  make  war  on  nobody. 

t  .A.rma  diu  senior  desueta,  trement  jbua  jbvo 

Circumuat  nequicquara  humeris,  et  inutile  fer- 
rum 

Cingjtur ^neid.  Lib. II, 


260 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXVI. 


lions  of  stipulated  tribute,  which  was  on  the 
road  to  Buonaparte's  military  chest — took 
every  measure  to  increase  his  army,  and  by 
the  voluntary  exertions  of  the  noble  fami- 
lies of  Rome,  he  actually  raised  it  to  forty 
thousand  men,  and  placed  at  its  head  the 
same  General  Colli,  who  had  comnianded 
with  credit  the  troops  of  Sardinia  during  the 
campaign  on  the  Alps.  The  utmost  pains 
were  taken  by  the  clergy,  both  regular  and 
secular,  to  give  the  expected  war  the  char- 
acter of  a  crusade,  and  to  excite  the  fierce 
spirit  of  those  peasantry  who  inhabit  the 
Appenines,  and  were  doubly  disposed  to  be 
hostile  to  the  French,  as  foreigners  and  as 
heretics.  The  Pope  endeavoured  also  to 
form  a  close  alliance  with  the  King  of  the 
two  Sicilies,  who  promised  in  secret  to 
cover  Rome  with  an  army  of  thirty  thou- 
sand men.  Little  reliance  was  indeed  to 
be  placed  in  the  good  faith  of  the  court  of 
Naples  ;  but  the  Pope  was  compared,  by 
the  French  envoy,  to  a  man  who,  in  the  act 
of  falling,  would  grasp  for  support  at  a  hook 
of  red-hot  iron. 

While  the  Court  of  Rome  showed  this 
hostile  disposition,  Napoleon  reproached 
the  French  government  for  having  broke  off 
the  negotiation,  which  they  ought  to  have 
protracted  till  the  event  of  Alvinzi's  march 
into  lialy  was  known  ;  at  all  events,  until 
their  general  had  obtained  possession  of  the 
sixteen  millions,  so  much  wanted  to  pay 
his  forces.  In  reply  to  his  remonstrances, 
he  received  permission  to  renew  the  ne- 

fotiations  upon  modified  terms.  But  the 
'ope  had  gone  too  far  to  recede.  Even 
the  French  victory  of  Areola,  and  the  in- 
stant threats  of  Buonaparte  to  march  against 
him  at  the  head  of  a  flying  column,  were 
unable  to  move  his  resolution.  "  Let  the 
French  general  march  upon  Rome,"  said 
the  Papal  minister ;  "  the  Pope,  if  neces- 
Bary,  will  quit  his  capital.  The  farther  the 
li'rench  are  drawn  from  the  Adige,  the  near- 
er they  are  to  their  ultimate  destruction." 
Napoleon  was  sensible,  on  receiving  a  hos- 
tile answer,  that  the  Pope  still  relied  on 
the  last  preparations  which  were  made  for 
the  relief  of  Mantua,  and  it  was  not  safe  to 
attempt  his  chastisement  until  Alvinzi  and 
Provera  should  be  disposed  of.  But  the 
decisive  battles  of  Rivoli  and  La  Favorita 
having  ruined  these  armies.  Napoleon  was 
at  leisurii  to  execute  his  purpose  of  crush- 
'ng  the  power,  such  as  it  was,  of  the  Holy 
See.  For  this  purpose  he  despatched  Vic- 
tor with  a  French  division  of  four  thousand 
men,  and  an  Italian  army  of  nearly  the 
same  force,  supplied  by  Lombardy  and  by 
the  Transpadane  republic,  to  invade  the 
territories  of  the  Church  on  the  eastern 
side  of  Italy,  by  the  route  of  Imola. 

Meantime,  the  utmost  exertions  had  been 
made  by  the  clergy  of  Romagna,  to  raise 
the  peasants  in  a  mass,  and  a  great  many 
obeyed  the  sound  of  the  tocsin.  But  an 
insurrectionary  force  is  more  calculated 
to  embarrass  the  movements  of  a  regular 
army,  by  alarms  on  their  flanks  and  rear, 
by  cutting  off"  their  communications,  and 
destroying  their  supplies,  defending  passes. 


and  skirmishing  in  advantageous  positions, 
than  by  opposing  them  in  the  open  field. 
The  Papal  army,  consisting  of  about  seven 
or  eight  thousand  men,  were  encamped  on 
the  river  Senio,  which  runs  on  tl.e  south- 
ward of  the  town  of  Imola,  to  dispute  the 
passage.  The  banks  were  defended  with 
cannon;  but  the  river  being  unusually  low, 
the  French  crossed  about  a  league  and  a 
half  higher  up  than  the  position  of  the  Ro- 
man army,  which,  taken  in  the  rear,  fled 
in  every  direction,  after  a  short  resistance. 
A  few  hundreds  were  killed,  among  whom 
were  several  monks,  who,  holding  the  cru- 
cifix in  their  hand,  had  placed  themselve8 
in  the  ranks  to  encourage  the  soldiers. 
Faenza  held  out,  and  was  taken  by  storm  ; 
but  the  soldiers  were  withheld  from  pillage 
by  the  generosity,  or  prudence  of  Napoleon, 
and  he  dismissed  the  prisoners  of  war  to 
carry  into  the  interior  of  the  country  the 
news  of  their  own  defeat,  of  the  irresistible 
superiority  of  the  French  army,  and  of  the 
clemency  of  their  general. 

Next  day,  three  thousand  of  the  Papal 
troops,  occupying  an  advantageous  position 
in  front  of  Ancona,  and  commanded  by 
Colli,  were  made  prisoners  without  firing  a 
shot;  and  Ancona  was  taken  after  slight 
resistance,  though  a  place  of  some  strength. 
A  curious  piece  of  priestcraft  had  been 
played  off  in  this  town,  to  encourage  the 
people  to  resistance.  A  miraculous  image 
was  seen  to  shed  tears,  and  the  French 
artists  could  not  discover  the  mode  in 
which  the  trick  was  managed  until  the  im- 
age was  brought  to  head  quarters,  when  a 
glass  shrine,  by  which  the  illusion  was 
managed,  was  removed.  The  Madonna  was 
sent  back  to  the  church  v/hich  owned  her, 
but  apparently  had  become  reconciled  to 
the  foreign  visitors,  and  dried  her  tears  in 
consequence  of  her  interview  with  Buona- 
parte. 

On  the  10th  of  February,  the  French, 
moving  with  great  celerity,  entered  Loret- 
to,  where  the  celebrated  Santa  Casa  is  the 
subject  of  the  Catholic's  devotional  tri- 
umph, or  secret  scorn,  according  as  his 
faith  or  his  doubts  predominate.  The 
wealth  which  this  celebrated  shrine  is  once 
supposed  to  have  possessed  by  gifts  of  the 
faithful,  had  been  removed  by  Colli — if, 
indeed,  it  had  not  been  transported  to 
Rome  long  before  the  period  of  which  we 
treat ;  yet,  precious  metal  and  gems  to  the 
amount  of  a  million  of  livres,  fell  into  the 
possession  of  the  French,  whose  capture 
was  also  enriched  by  the  holy  image  of  Our 
Lady  of  Loretto,  with  the  sacred  porringer, 
and  a  bed-gown  of  dark-coloured  camlet, 
warranted  to  have  belonged  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin.  The  image,  said  to  have  been  of 
celestial  workmanship,  was  sent  to  Paris, 
but  was  restored  to  the  Pope  in  1802.  We 
are  not  informed  that  any  of  the  treasures 
were  given  back  along  with  the  Madonna, 
to  whom  they  had  been  devoted. 

As  the  French  army  advanced  upon  the 
Roman  territory,  there  was  a  menace  of  the 
interference  of  the  King  of  Naples,  worthy 
to  be  mentioned,  both  as  expressing  lh» 


Chap.  XXVI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


36 


character  of  that  court,  and  showing  Napo- 
leon's readiness  in  anticipating  and  defeat- 
ing the  arts  of  indirect  diplomacy. 

The  Prince  of  Belnionte-Pignatelli,  who 
attended  Buonaparte's  head-quarters,  in  the 
capacity  perhaps  of  an  observer,  as  much 
as  of  ambassador  for  Naples,  came  to  the 
French  general  in  secrecy,  to  show  him, 
under  strict  confidence,  a  letter  of  the 
Queen  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  proposing  to 
march  an  army  of  thirty  thousand  men  to- 
wards Rome.  "  Your  confidence  shall  be 
repaid,"  said  Buonaparte,  who  at  once  saw 
through  the  spirit  ol  the  communication — 
"  You  shall  know  what  1  have  long  since 
settled  to  do  in  case  of  such  an  event  tak- 
ing place."  He  called  for  the  port-folio 
containing  the  papers  respecting  Naples, 
and  presented  to  the  disconcerted  Prince 
the  copy  of  a  despatch  written  in  Novem- 
ber preceding,  which  contained  this  pas- 
sage : — "  The  approach  of  Alvinzi  would 
not  prevent  my  sending  six  thousand  men 
to  chastise  the  court  of  Rome ;  but  as  the 
Neapolitan  army  might  march  to  their  as- 
sistance, I  will  postpone  this  movement 
till  after  the  surrender  of  Mantua  ;  in  which 
case,  if  the  King  of  Naples  should  interfere 
I  shall  be  able  to  spare  twenty-five  thou- 
sand men  to  march  against  his  capital,  and 
drive  liim  over  to  Sicily."  Prince  Pigna- 
tclli  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  result  of 
this  mutual  confidence,  and  there  was  no 
more  said  of  Neapolitan  armed  interfer- 
ence. 

From  Ancona  the  division  commanded 
by  Victor  turned  westward  to  Foligno,  to 
unite  itself  with  another  column  of  French 
which  penetrated  into  the  territories  of  the 
church  by  Perugia,  which  they  easily  ac- 
complished. Resistance  seemed  now  una- 
vailing. The  Pope  in  vain  solicited  his 
subjects  to  rise  agamst  the  second  Alaric, 
who  wa?  approaching  the  Holy  City.  They 
remained  deaf  to  his  exhortations,  though 
made  in  the  names  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
and  of  the  Apostles  Peter  and  Paul,  who 
had  of  old  been  the  visible  protectors  of 
the  met-'oiiolis  of  the  Christian  world  in  a 
similar  emergency.  All  was  dismay  and 
confusion  in  the  i)atriniony  of  .Saint  Peter's, 
wliich  was  now  the  sole  territory  remain- 
in;;  in  possession  of  his  representative. 

Bill  there  was  an  unhappy  class  of  per- 
f;on«.  who  had  found  shelter  in  Rome,  rath- 
er tliau  disown  whose  allegiance  they  had 
left  their  homes,  and  resigned  their  means 
of  living.  These  were  the  recusant  P'rench 
clergy,  who  had  refused  to  take  the  con- 
stitutional oath,  and  who  now,  recollecting 
the  scenes  which  they  witnessed  in  F'rance. 
expected  little  else,  than  that,  on  the  ap- 
proach of  the  Republican  troops,  they 
would,  like  the  Israelitish  captain,  be  slain 
between  the  horns  of  the  very  altar  at 
which  thjy  had  taken  refuge.  It  is  said  that 
one  of  their  number,  frantic  at  thoughts  of 
the  fate  which  be  supposed  awaited  them, 
presented  himself  to  Buonaparte,  announc- 
ed his  name  and  condition,  and  prayed  to 
be  led  to  instant  death.  Napoleon  took  the 
opportunity  to  show  once  more  that  he  was 
acting  on  principles  different  from  the  bru- 


tal and  persecuting  spirit  of  Jacobinism 
He  issued  a  proclamation,  in  which,  pre- 
mising that  the  recusant  priests,  though 
banished  from  the  French  territory,  were 
not  prohibited  from  residing  in  countries 
which  might  be  conquered  by  the  French 
arms,  he  declares  himself  satisfied  with 
their  conduct.  The  proclamation  goes  on 
to  prohibit,  under  the  most  severe  penalty, 
the  French  soldiery,  and  all  other  persons, 
from  doing  any  injury  to  these  unfortunate 
exiles.  The  convents  are  directed  to  afford 
them  lodging,  nourishment,  and  fifteen 
French  livres  (twelve  shillings  and  six- 
pence British)  monthly  to  each  individual, 
for  which  the  priest  was  to  compensate  by 
saying  masses  ad  valorem; — thus  assigning 
the  Italian  convents  payment  for  their  hos- 
pitality, Ih  the  same  coin  with  which  they 
themselves  requit  the  laity. 

Perhaps  this  liberality  might  have  some 
weight  with  the  Pope  in  inducing  him  to 
throw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  France, 
as  had  been  recommended  to  him  by  Buo- 
naparte ia  a  confidential  communication 
through  the  superior  of  the  monastic  order 
of  Camalduli,  and  more  openly  in  a  letter 
addressed  to  Cardinal  Mattel.  The  King 
of  Naples  made  no  movement  to  his  assist- 
ance. In  fine,  after  hesitating  what  course 
to  take,  and  having  had  at  one  time  his 
equipage  ready  harnessed  to  leave  Rome 
and  tly  to  Naples,  the  Pontiff  judged  resist- 
ance and  flight  alike  unavailing,  and  chose 
the  humiliating  alternative  of  entire  submis- 
sion to  the  will  of  the  conqueror. 

It  was  the  object  of  tlie  Directory  entire 
ly  to  destroy  the  secular  authority  of  the 
Pope,  and  to  deprive  him  of  all  his  tempo- 
ralities. But  Buonaparte  foresaw,  that 
whether  the  Roman  territories  were  united 
with  the  new  Cispadane  Republic,  or  form- 
ed into  a  separate  state,  it  would  alike  bring 
on  prematurely  a  renewal  of  the  war  with 
Naples,  ere  the  north  of  Italy  was  yet  suf- 
ficiently secure  to  admit  the  marching  a 
French  force  into  the  southern  extremities 
of  the  Italian  peninsula,  exposed  to  de- 
scents of  the  English,  and  insurrections  in 
the  rear.  These  Napoleon  foresaw  would 
be  the  more  dangerous  and  difficult  to  sub- 
due, that  though  he  might  strip  the  Pope 
of  his  temporalities,  he  could  not  deprive 
him  of  the  supremacy  assigned  him  in  spi- 
ritual matters  by  each  Catholic  ;  which,  on 
the  contrary,  was,  according  to  the  pro- 
gress of  human  feeling,  likely  to  be  the 
more  widely  felt  and  recognized  in  favour 
of  a  wanderer  and  a  sufferer  ior  what  would 
be  accounted  conscience-sake,  than  of  one 
who,  submitting  to  circumstances,  retained 
as  much  of  the  goods  of  this  world  as  the 
clemency  of  his  conqueror  would  permit. 

Influenced  by  these  considerations,  Buo- 
naparte admitted  the  Pope  to  a  treaty  which 
terminated  in  the  peace  of  Tolentino,  by 
which  Sextus  purchased  such  a  politicjJ 
existence  as  was  left  to  him,  at  the  highest 
rate  which  he  had  the  least  chance  of  dis- 
charging. Napoleon  mentions,  as  a  curious 
instance  of  the  crafty  and  unscrupuloua 
character  of  the  Neapolitans,  that  the  same 
Pignatelli,  whom  wc  have  already  commem 


262 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        IChap.  XXVI. 


orated,  attached  himself  closely  to  the 
plenipotentiaries  during  the  whole  treaty  of 
Tolentino ;  and  in  his  ardour  to  discover 
whether  there  existed  any  secret  article  be- 
twixt the  Pope  and  Buonaparte  which  might 
compromise  the  interests  of  his  master, 
was  repeatedly  discovered  listening  at  the 
door  of  the  apartment  in  which  the  discus- 
sions were  carried  on. 

The  articles  which  the  Pope  was  obliged 
to  accept  at  Tolentino,  included  the  ces- 
Bion  of  Avignon  and  its  territories,  the  ap- 
propriation of  which,  by  France,  had  never 
yet  been  recognized  ;  the  resigning  the  le- 
gations of  Bologna,  Ferrara,  and  Romagna ; 
the  occupation  of  Ancona,  the  only  port 
excepting  Venice  which  Italy  has  in  the 
Adriatic ;  the  payment  of  30  millions  of 
livres,  in  specie  or  in  valuable  effects  ;  the 
complete  execution  of  the  article  in  the 
armistice  of  Bologna  respectmg  the  deliv- 
ery of  paintings,  manuscripts,  and  objects 
of  art;  and  several  other  stipulations  of 
similar  severity. 

Buonaparte  informs  us,  that  it  was  a  prin- 
cipal object  in  this  treaty  to  compel  the 
abolition  of  the  Inquisition,  from  which  he 
had  only  departed  in  consequence  of  re- 
ceiving information,  that  it  had  ceased  to 
be  used  as  a  religious  tribunal,  and  subsist- 
ed only  as  a  court  of  police.  The  con- 
science of  the  Pope  seemed  also  so  tender- 
ly affected  by  the  proposal,  that  he  thought 
it  safe  to  desist  from  it. 

The  same  despatch,  in  which  Buonaparte 
informs  the  Directory,  that  his  committee 
of  artist  collectors  "  had  made  a  good  har- 
vest of  paintings  in  the  Papal  dominions, 
and  which,  witli  the  objects  of  art  ceded 
by  the  Pope,  included  almost  all  that  was 
curious  and  valuable,  excepting  some  few 
objects  at  Turin  and  Naples,"  conveyed  to 
them  a  document  of  a  very  different  kind. 
This  was  a  respectful  and  almost  reveren- 
tial letter  from  Napoleon  to  the  Pope,  re- 
commending to  his  Holiness  to  distrust 
such  persons  as  might  excite  him  to  doubt 
tlie  good  intentions  of  France,  assuring  him 
that  he  would  always  find  the  Republic 
most  sincere  and  faithful,  and  expressing 
in  his  own  name  the  perfect  esteem  and 
veneration  which  he  entertained  for  the 
person  of  his  Holiness,  and  the  extreme 
desire  which,  he  had  to  afford  him  proofs 
to  that  effect. 

This  letter  furnished  much  amusement 
at  the  time,  and  seemed  far  less  to  intimate 
the  sentiments  of  a  Sans  Culotte  general, 
than  those  of  a  civilized  highwayman  of 
the  old  school  of  Macheath,  who  never  dis- 
missed the  travellers  whom  he  had  plun- 
dered, without  his  sincere  good  wishes  for 
the  happy  prosecution  of  their  journey. 

A  more  pleasing  view  of  Buonaparte's 
character  was  exliibited  about  this  time,  in 
his  conduct  towards  the  little  interesting 
Republic  of  San  Marino.  That  state,  which 
only  acknowledges  the  Pope  as  a  protector, 
not  as  a  sovereign,  had  maintained  for  very 
many  years  an  independence,  which  con- 
querors had  spared  either  in  contempt  or  in 
respect.  It  consists  of  a  single  mountain 
and  a  single  town^  and  boasts  about  seven 


thousand  inhabitants,  governed  by  their 
ov.n  laws.  Citizen  Monge,  the  chief  of 
the  committee  of  collecting-artists,  was 
sent  deputy  to  San  Marino  to  knit  the  bands 
of  amity  between  the  two  Republics, — 
which  might  well  resemble  a  union  between 
Liliput  and  Brobdignag.  There  were  no 
pictures  in  tlie  little  Republic,  or  they 
might  have  been  a  temptation  to  the  citi- 
zen collector.  The  people  of  San  Marino 
conducted  themselves  with  much  sagacity  ; 
and  altliough  more  complimentary  to  Buon- 
aparte than  Diogenes  to  Alexander  the 
Great,  when  he  came  to  visit  the  philoso- 
pher in  his  tub,  they  showed  the  same  judg- 
ment in  eschewing  too  much  courtesy.  They 
respectfully  declined  an  accession  of  terri- 
tory, which  could  but  have  involved  them 
in  subsequent  quarrels  with  the  sovereign 
from  whom  it  was  to  be  wrested,  and  only 
accepted  as  an  honorary  gift  the  present 
of  four  field-pieces,  being  a  train  of  artillery 
upon  the  scale  of  tiieir  military  force,  and 
of  which,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  tlie  Captain 
Regents  of  the  little  contented  state  will 
never  have  any  occasion  to  make  use. 

Rome  might,  for  the  present  at  least,  be 
considered  as  completely  subjugated.  Na- 
ples was  at  peace,  if  the  signature  of  a  trea- 
ty can  create  peace.  At  any  rate,  so  dis- 
tant from  Rome,  and  so  controlled  by  the 
defeat  of  the  Papal  arms — by  the  fear  that 
the  English  fleet  might  be  driven  from  the 
Mediterranean — and  by  their  distance  froni 
the  scene  of  action — The  King  of  the  two 
Sicilies,  or  rather  his  wife,  the  high-spirit- 
ed daughter  of  Maria  Theresa,  dared  not 
offer  the  least  interference  with  the  pur- 
poses of  the  French  General.  Tuscany 
had  apparently  consented  to  owe  her  polit- 
ical existence  to  any  degree  of  clemency  or 
contempt  which  Buonaparte  might  extend 
to  her  5  and  entertaining  hopes  of  some 
convention  betwixt  the  French  and  English, 
by  which  the  Grand  Duke's  port  of  Leg- 
horn might  be  restored  to  him,  remained 
passive  as  the  dead.  The  republic  of  Ve- 
nice alone,  feeling  still  the  stimulus  arising 
from  her  ancient  importance,  and  yet  pain- 
fully conscious  of  her  present  want  of  pow- 
er, strained  every  exertion  to  place  herself 
in  a  respectable  attitude.  That  city  of  lof- 
ty remembrances,  the  Tyre  of  the  middle 
ages,  whose  traders  were  princes,  and  her 
merchants  the  honourable  of  the  earth,  fall- 
en as  she  was  from  her  former  greatness, 
still  presented  some  appearance  of  vigour. 
Her  oligarchical  government,  so  long 
known  and  so  dreaded,  for  jealous  precau- 
tions, political  sagacity,  the  impenetrabili- 
ty of  their  plans,  and  the  inflexibility  of 
their  rigour,  still  preserved  the  attitude  of 
independence,  and  endeavoured,  by  raising 
additional  regiments  of  Sclavonians,  disci- 
plining their  peasantry,  who  were  of  a  very 
martial  character,  and  forming  military 
magazines  of  considerable  extent,  to  main- 
tain such  an  aspect,  as  might  make  their 
friendship  to  be  courted,  and  their  enmity 
to  be  feared.  It  was  already  evident  that 
the  Austrians,  notwithstanding  all  their  re- 
cent defeats,  were  again  about  to  make 
head  on  their  Italo-German  frontier  ;  and 


Chap.  XXVII.]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPAFvTE. 


France,  in  opposing  them,  could  not  be 
indifferent  to  the  neutrality  of  Venice,  upon 
whose  territories,  to  all  appearance,  Buon- 
aparte must  have  rested  the  flank  of  his 
operations,  in  case  of  his  advancing  towards 
Friuli.  So  circumstanced,  and  when  it 
was  recollected  that  the  mistress  of  the 
Adriatic  liad  still  fifty  thousand  men  at  her 
command,  and  those  of  a  fierce  and  cour- 
ageous description,  chiefly  consisting  of 
Sclavonians,  Venice,  even  yet,  was  an  en- 
emy not  to  be  lightly  provoked.  But  the 
inhabitants  were  not  unanimous,  especially 
those  of  the  Terra  Firma,  or  mainland,  who, 
not  being  enrolled  in  the  golden  book  of 
the  insular  nobility  of  Venice,  were  dis- 
contented, and  availed  themselves  of  the 
encouragement  and  assistance  of  the  new- 
created  republics  on  the  Po  to  throw  off" 
their  allegiance.  Brescia  and  Bergamo,  in 
particular,  were  clamorous  for  independ- 
ence. 

Napoleon  saw,  in  this  state  of  dissen- 
sion, the  means  of  playing  an  adroit  game, 
and  while,  on  the  one  hand,  he  endeavour- 
ed to  restrain,  till  a  more  favourable  oppor- 
tunity, the  ardour  of  the  patriots,  he  at- 
tempted, on  the  other,  to  convince  the  Sen- 
ate that  they  had  no  safe  policy  but  in  em- 
bracing at  once  the  alliance  of  France, 
offensive  and  defensive,  and  joining  their 
forces  to  those  of  the  army  with  which  he 


was  about  to  move  against  the  Austrians 
He  offered,  on  these  conditions,  to  guaran 
tee  the  possessions  of  the  Republic;  even 
without  exacting  any  modification  of  their 
oligarchical  constitution.  But  Venice  de- 
clared for  an  impartial  neutrality.  It  had 
been,  they  said,  their  ancient  and  sage  poli- 
cy, nor  would  they  now  depart  from  it. 
"  Remain  then  neuter,"  said  Napoleon ; 
"  I  consent  to  it.  I  march  upon  Vienna, 
yet  will  leave  enough  of  French  troops  in 
Italy  to  control  your  republic. — But  dis- 
miss these  new  levies  ;  and  remark,  that  if, 
while  I  am  in  Germany,  my  communica- 
tions shall  be  interrupted,  my  detachments 
cut  off,  or  my  convoys  intercepted  in  the 
Venetian  territory,  the  date  of  your  repub- 
lic is  terminated.  She  will  have  brought 
on  herself  annihilation.'' 

Lest  these  threats  should  be  forgotten 
while  he  was  at  a  distance,  he  took  the  best 
precautions  in  his  power  by  garrisoning  ad- 
vantageous points  on  the  line  of  the  Adige  ; 
and  trusting  partly  to  this  defence,  partly 
to  the  insurgents  of  Bergamo  and  Brescia, 
who  for  their  own  sakes  would  oppose  any 
invasion  of  the  mainland  by  their  Venetian 
masters,  whose  yoke  they  had  cast  aside. 
Napoleon  again  unfurled  his  banners,  and 
marched  to  new  triumphs  over  yet  untried 
opponents. 


CHAP.  XXVII. 

Archduke  Charles — Compared  to  Napoleon — Fettered  by  the  Aulic  Council. — Napole- 
on, by  a  stratagem,  passes  the  Tagliamento,  and  compels  the  Archduke  to  retreat. — 
Gradisca  carried  by  storm. — Chiusa-  Veneta  taken  by  Massena,  with  the  loss  of  5000 
Atistrians.  Baggage.  Cannon,  &,c. —  The  Sea-ports  of  Trieste  and  Fiume  occupied 
by  the  French. —  Venice  breaks  the  Neutrality,  and  commences  Hostilities  by  a  massa- 
cre of  100  Frenchmen  at  Verona. —  Terrified  on  learning  that  an  Armistice  had  taken 
place  betwixt  France  and  Austria — Circumstances  loliich  led  to  this. —  The  Archduke 
retreats  by  hasty  marches  on  Vienna — His  prospects  of  success  in  defending  it — The 
Government  and  People  irresolute,  and  the  Treaty  of  Leoben  signed — Venice  now 
makes  the  most  humiliating  submissions. — Napoleon's  Speech  to  the  Venetian  Envoys 
— He  declares  War  against  Venice,  and  evades  obeying  the  orders  of  the  Directory  to 
spare  it. —  The  Great  Council,  on  3]st  May,  concede  everything  to  Buonaparte,  and 
disperse  in  terror. —  Terms  granted  by  the  French  General. 

and  Jourdan.  But  there  were  two  particu- 
lars in  which  the  Austrian  Prince  fell  far 
short  of  Napoleon, — first,  in  that  ready,  de- 
cided, and  vigorous  confidence,  which  seiz- 
es the  favourable  instant  for  the  execution 
of  plans  resolved  upon, — and  secondly,  in 
having  the  disadvantage  to  be  subjected, 
notwithstanding  his  high  rank,  to  the  inter- 
ference of  the  Aulic  Council  ;  who,  sitting 
at  Vienna,  and  ignorant  of  the  changes  and 
vicissitudes  of  the  campaign,  were  yet,  by 
the  ancient  and  jealous  laws  of  the  Austri- 
an empire,  entitled  to  control  his  opinion, 
and  prescribe  beforehand  the  motions  of 
the  armies,  while  the  generals  intrusted 
with  the  execution  of  their  schemes,  had 
often  no  choice  left  but  that  of  adherence 
to  their  instructions,  however  emerging 
circumstances  might  require  a  deviation. 

But  although  the  encounter  betwixt  thes» 
two  distinguished  young  generals  be  highly 
interesting,  our  space  will  not  permit  us  tg 


The  victories  of  the  Archduke  Charles  of 
Austria  on  the  Rhine,  and  his  high  credit 
with  the  soldiers,  seemed  to  point  him  out 
as  the  commander  falling  most  naturally  to 
be  employed  against  the  young  general  of 
the  French  republic,  who,  like  a  gifted  hero 
of  romance,  had  borne  down  successively 
all  opponents  who  had  presented  them- 
selves in  the  field.  The  opinions  of  Eu- 
rope were  susppndcd  concerning  the  prob- 
able issue  of  the  contest.  Both  generals 
were  young,  ambitious,  enthusiastic  in  the 
military  profession,  and  warmly  beloved  by 
their  soldiers.  The  exploits  of  both  had 
filled  the  trumpet  of  Fame  5  and  although 
Buonap.arte's  success  had  been  less  uninter- 
rupted, yet  it  could  not  be  denied,  that  if 
the  .\rchduke's  plans  were  not  equally  bril- 
liant and  original  with  those  of  his  great  ad- 
versary, they  were  just  and  sound,  and  had 
been  attended  repeatedly  with  great  results, 
and  by  the  defeat  of  such  men  as  Moreau 


264 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XX VII. 


detail  the  campaigns  of  Austria  at  the  same 
length  as  tliose  of  Italy.  The  latter  form- 
ed the  commencement  of  Buonaparte's 
military  career,  and  at  no  subsequent  peri- 
od of  his  life  did  he  achieve  the  same  won- 
drous victories  against  such  an  immense 
odds,  or  with  such  comparatively  inade- 
quate means.  It  was  also  necessary,  in 
the  out  set  of  his  military  history,  to  show 
in  minute  detail  the  character  of  his  tac- 
tics, and  illustrate  that  spirit  of  energetic 
concentration,  which,  neglecting  the  ex- 
tremities of  an  extended  line  of  operations, 
combined  his  wliole  strength,  like  a  bold 
and  skilful  fencer,  for  one  thrust  at  a  vital 
part,  which,  if  successful,  must  needs  be 
fatal.  The  astonishing  rapidity  of  his 
movements,  the  audacious  viv.icity  of  his 
attack,  having  been  so  often  described  in 
individual  cases,  may  now  he  passed  over 
with  general  allusions  ;  nor  will  we  embar- 
rass ourselves  and  our  readers  with  minute 
details  of  positions,  or  encumber  our  pa- 
ges with  the  names  of  obscure  villages, 
unless  when  there  is  some  battle  calling 
for  a  particular  narrative,  either  from  its 
importance  or  its  singularity. 

By  the  direction  of  the  Aulic  Council, 
the  Archduke  Cliarles  had  taken  up  his  po- 
sition at  Friuli,  where  it  had  been  settled 
that  the  sixth  Austrian  army,  designed  to 
act  against  Buonaparte  for  the  defence  of 
the  Italo-German  frontier,  should  be  assem- 
bled. This  position  was  strangely  prefer- 
red tf)  the  Tyrol,  wliere  the  Archduke 
could  have  formed  a  junction  ten  days  soon- 
er witli  an  additional  force  of  forty  thou- 
sand men  from  tlie  army  of  the  Rhine, 
marching  to  reinforce  his  own  troops, — men 
accustomed  to  fight  and  conquer  under 
their  leader's  eye  ;  wltilst  those  with  whom 
he  occupied  Friuli,  and,  the  line  of  the 
Piave,  belonged  to  the  liapless  Imperial 
forces,  which,  under  Bcaulieu,  Wurmser, 
and  Alvinzi,  had  never  encountered  Buo- 
naparte without  incurring  some  notable 
defeat. 

While  the  Archduke  was  yet  expecting 
those  reinforcements  which  v,'ere  to  form  the 
strength  of  his  army,  his  active  adversary  was 
strergthened  by  more  than  twc  nty  thousand 
men,  sent  from  the  i'rench  armies  on  the 
Rhine,  and  which  gave  him  at  tlie  moment 
a  numerical  superiority  over  the  Austrian 
general.  Instead,  then-fore,  of  waiting,  as 
on  former  occasions,  until  the  Imperialists 
should  commence  the  war  by  descending 
into  Italy,  Napoleon  resolved  to  anticipate 
the  march  of  the  succours  expectcil  by  the 
Archduke,  drive  him  from  his  position  on 
the  Italian  frontiers,  and  follow  him  into 
Germany,  even  up  to  the  walls  of  \' ienna. 
No  scheme  appeared  too  bold  for  the  gen- 
eral's imagination  to  form,  or  his  genius  to 
render  practicable  ;  and  his  soldiers,  v.-ith 
the  view  before  them  of  plunging  into  the 
midst  of  an  immense  empire,  and  jilaring 
chains  of  mountain.^  betwixt  them  and  ev- 
ery possibility  of  reinforcement  or  commu- 
nication, were  so  confident  in  the  talents 
of  their  leader,  as  to  fiillDW  him  imder  the 
most  undoubting  expectation  of  victory. 
The  Directory  had  iuduced  Buonaparte  to 


expect  a  co-operation  by  a  similar  adrance 
on  the  part  of  the  armies  of  the  Rhine, 
as  had  been  attempted  in  the  former  cam- 
paign. 

Buonaparte  took  the  field  in  the  begin 
ning  of  March,  advancing  from  Bassano. 
The  Auslriaiis  had  an  army  of  observation 
under  Lusignan  on  the  banks  of  the  Piave. 
but  their  principal  force  was  stationed  upon 
the  Tagliamento,  a  river  whose  course  is 
nearly  thirty  miles  more  to  the  eastward, 
though  collateral  with  the  Piave.  The  plains 
on  the  Tagliamento  aft'orded  facilities  to  the 
Arcliduke  to  employ  the  noble  cavalry  who 
have  always  been  the  boast  of  the  Austrian 
army  ;  and  to  dislodge  him  from  the  strong 
and  mountainous  country  which  he  occu- 
pied, and  which  covered  the  road  that  pen- 
etr.ates  between  the  mountains  and  the 
Adriatic,  and  forms  the  mode  of  communi- 
cation in  tiiat  quarter  betwixt  Vienna  and 
Italy,  through  Carinthia,  it  was  not  only 
necessary  that  he  should  be  pressed  in 
front,  a  service  which  Buonaparte  took  up- 
on himself,  but  also  that  a  French  division, 
occupying  the  mountains  on  tlie  Prince's 
right,  should  precipitate  his  retreat  by  main- 
taining the  perpetual  threat  of  turning  him 
on  that  wing.  With  this  view,  Massena 
had  Buonaparte's  orders,  which  he  execut- 
ed with  equal  skill  and  gallantry.  He 
crossed  the  Piave  about  the  eleventh  March, 
and  ascending  that  river,  directed  his 
course  into  the  mountains  towards  Belluno, 
driving  before  him  Lusignan's  little  corps 
of  observation,  and  finally  compelling  his 
rear-guard,  to  the  number  of  five  hundred 
men,  to  surrender. 

The  Archduke  Charles,  in  the  meantime, 
continued  to  maintain  his  position  on  the 
Tagliamento,  and  the  French  approached 
the  right  bank,  with  N.ipoleon  at  their 
head,  dete^-mined  apparently  to  force  a  pas- 
sage. Artillery  and  sharpshooters  were 
disposed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render  this 
a  very  hazardous  attempt,  while  two  beau- 
tiful lines  of  cavalry  were  drawn  up,  pre- 
pared to  charge  any  troops  who  might  make 
their  way  to  the  left  bank,  while  they  were 
yet  in  the  confusion  of  landing. 

A  very  simple  str.atagem  disconcerted 
this  fair  display  of  resistance.  After  a  dis- 
t.ant  cannonade,  and  some  skirmishing,  the 
French  army  drew  off,  as  if  despairing  to 
force  their  passage,  moved  to  the  rear,  .and 
took  up  apparently  their  bivouac  for  the 
night.  The  Archduke  was  deceived.  He 
imagined  that  the  French,  who  had  march- 
ed all  the  preceding  night,  were  fatigued, 
and  he  also  withdrew  from  the  bank  of  the 
river  to  his  camp.  But  two  hours  after- 
wards, when  all  seemed  profoundly  quiet, 
the  French  army  suddenly  got  under  arms, 
and,  forming  in  two  lines,  marched  rapidly 
to  the  side  of  the  river,  ere  the  astonished 
Austrians  were  able  to  make  the  same  dis- 
positions as  formerly  for  defence.  Arrived 
on  the  margin,  the  first  line  instantly  broke 
up  into  columns,  which  throwing  them- 
selves boldly  into  the  stream,  protected  on 
the  flanks  by  the  cavalry,  passed  througii 
and  attained  the  opposite  bank.  They  were 
repeatedly  charged  by  the  Austrian  cavalry 


Chap.  XXVII.]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


26^ 


but  it  was  too  late — they  had  gotten  their 
footing,  and  kept  it.  The  Archduke  at- 
tempted to  turn  their  flank,  but  was  pre- 
vented by  the  second  line  of  the  French, 
and  by  their  reserve  of  cavalry.  He  was 
compelled  to  retreat,  leaving  prisoners  and 
cannon  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Such 
was  the  first  disastrous  meeting  between 
the  Archduke  Charlea  and  his  future  rel- 
ative. 

The  Austrian  Prince  had  the  farther  mis- 
fortune to  learn,  that  Massena  had,  at  the 
first  sound  of  the  cannonade,  pushed  across 
the  Tagliafliento,  higher  up  than  his  line  of 
defence,  and  destroying  what  troops  he 
fotind  before  him,  had  occupied  the  passes 
of  the  Julian  Alps  at  the  sources  of  that 
river,  and  thus  interposed  himself  between 
the  Imperial  right  wing  and  the  nearest 
communication  with  Vienna.  Sensible  of 
the  importance  of  this  obstacle,  the  Arch- 
duke hastened,  if  possible,  to  remove  it. 
He  brought  up  a  fine  column  of  grenadiers 
from  the  Pihine,  which  had  just  arrived  at 
Klagenfurt,  in  his  rear,  and  joining  them  to 
other  troops,  attacked  Massena  with  the 
utmost  fury,  venturing  his  own  person  like 
a  private  soldier,  and  once  or  twice  nar- 
rowly escaping  being  made  prisoner.  It 
was  in  vain — all  in  vain.  He  charged  suc- 
cessively and  repeatedly,  even  with  the  re- 
serve of  the  grenadiers,  but  no  exertion 
could  change  the  fortune  of  the  day. 

Still  the  Archduke  hoped  to  derive  assist- 
ance from  the  natural  or  artificial  defences  of 
the  strong  country  through  which  he  was  thus 
retreating,  and  in  doing  so  was  involuntari- 
ly introducing  Buonaparte,  after  he  should 
have  surmounted  the  border  frontier,  in- 
to the  most  fertile  provinces  of  his  broth- 
er's empire.  The  Lisonzo,  usually  a  deep 
and  furious  torrent,  closed  in  by  a  chain  of 
impassable  mountains,  seemed  to  oppose 
an  insurmountable  barrier  to  his  daring  pur- 
Kuers.  But  nature,  as  well  as  events,  fought 
against  the  Austrians.  The  stream,  reduc- 
ed by  frost,  was  fordable  in  several  places. 
The  river  thus  passed,  the  town  of  Gradis- 
ca,  which  had  been  covered  with  field-works 
to  protect  the  line  of  the  Lisonzo,  was  sur- 
prised and  carried  bv  storm,  and  its  garrison 
of  two  thousand  five  hundred  men  made 
prisoners,  by  the  divisions  of  Bernadotte 
and  Serrurier. 

Pushed  in  every  direction,  the  Austrians 
sustained  every  day  additional  and  more  se- 
vere losses.  The  strong  fort  of  Chiusa-Vene- 
ta  was  occupied  by  Massena,  who  continued 
his  active  and  indefatigable  operations  on 
the  right  of  the  retreating  army.  This  suc- 
cess caused  the  Cnvelopement,  and  disper- 
Bion  or  surrender,  of  a  whole  division  of 
Austrians,  five  thousand  of  whom  remained 
prisoners,  while  their  baggage, cannon,  col- 
ours, and  al'.  that  constituted  them  an  army, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  French.  Four 
generals  were  made  prisoners  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  and  many  of  the  mountaineers  of 
Carnioia  and  Croatia,  who  had  joined  the 
Austrian  army  from  their  natural  love  of 
war,  seeing  that  success  appeared  to  have 
ahaadoned  the  Imperial  cause,  became  de- 

voi.  I.  M 


spondent,  broke  up  their  corps,  and  retired 
as  stragglers  to  their  villages. 

Buonaparte  availed  himself  of  their  loss 
of  courage,  and  had  recourse  to  proclama- 
tions, a  species  of  arms  which  he  valued 
himself  as  much  upon  using  to  advantage, 
as  he  did  upon  his  military  fame.  He  as- 
sured them  that  the  French  did  not  come 
into  their  country  to  innovate  on  their 
rights,  religious  customs,  and  manners. 
He  e.xhorted  them  not  to  meddle  in  a  war 
with  which  they  had  no  concern,  but  en- 
couraged them  to  afford  assistance  and  fur- 
nish supplies  to  the  French  army,  in  pay- 
ment of  which  he  proposed  to  assign  the 
public  taxes  which  they  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  paying  to  the  Emperor.  His  pro- 
posal seems  to  have  reconciled  the  Carin- 
thians  to  the  presence  of  the  French,  or, 
more  properly  speaking,  they  submitted  to 
the  military  exactions  which  they  had  no 
means  of  resisting.  In  the  meanwhile,  the 
French  took  possession  of  Trieste  and 
Fiume,  the  only  posts  belonging  to  Aus- 
tria, where  they  seized  much  English  mer- 
chandise, which  was  always  a  welcome 
prize,  and  of  the  quicksilver  mines  ot  Idria, 
where  they  found  a  valuable  deposit  of  that 
mineral. 

Napoleon  repaired  the  fortifications  ol' 
Klagenfurt,  and  converted  it  into  a  respect- 
able place  of  arms,  where  he  established 
his  head-quarters.  In  a  space  of  scarce 
twenty  days,  he  had  defeated  the  Austrians 
in  ten  combats,  in  the  course  of  which 
Prince  Charles  had  lost  at  least  one-fourth 
of  his  army.  The  French  had  suririounted 
the  southern  chain  of  the  Julian  Alps  :  the 
northern  line  could,  it  was  supposed,  offer 
no  obstacle  sufficient  to  stop  their  irresisti- 
ble general :  and  the  Archduke,  the  pride 
and  hope  of  the  Austrian  armies,  had  re- 
tired behind  the  river  Meuhr,  and  seemed 
to  be  totally  without  the  means  of  covering 
Vienna. 

There  were,  however,  circumstances  less 
favourable  to  the  French,  which  require  to 
be  stated.  When  the  campaign  commenc- 
ed, the  French  general  Joubert  was  posted 
with  his  division  in  the  gorge  of  the  Tyrol 
above  Trent,  upon  the  same  river  Levisa, 
the  line  of  svhich  had  been  lost  and  won 
during  tho  preceding  winter.  He  was  op- 
posed by  the  .\ustrian  generals  Kerpen  and 
Laudon,  who,  besides  some  regular  regi- 
ments, had  collected  around  tiiem  a  number 
of  the  Tyrolese  militia,  who  .among  their 
own  mountains  were  al  least  equally  formi- 
dable. They  remained  watching  each  otb> 
er  during  the  earlier  part  of  the  campaign; 
but  the  gaining  of  the  battle  of  the  Tagfia- 
ineiito  was  the  signal  for  .loujert  to  com- 
mence the  offensive.  His  <'irections  were 
to  push  his  way  through  the  Tyrol  to  Bnien, 
at  which  place  Napoleon  expected  heroight 
huar  news  of  the  advance  of  the  French 
armies  from  the  Rhine,  toco-operate  in  the 
inarch  upon  Vienna.  But  the  Directnnr, 
fearing  perhaps  to  trust  nearly  the  ■whol* 
force  of  the  Republic  in  the  hands  of  awn- 
eral  so  successful  and  so  ambitioas  a* US' 
poleon.had  not  fulfilled  their  prom iiw  in 


266 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEO.N  BL'ONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXVII. 


this  respect.  The  army  of  Moreau  had  not 
M  vet  crossed  the  Rhine. 

Joubert,  thus  disappointed  of  his  promis- 
ed object,  began  to  find  himself  in  an  em- 
barrassing situation.  The  whole  country 
•was  in  insurrection  around  him,  and  a  re- 
treat in  the  line  by  which  he  had  advanced, 
might  have  exposed  him  to  great  loss,  if  not 
to  destruction.  He  determined,  therefore, 
to  elude  the  enemy,  and,  by  descending  the 
river  Drave,  to  achieve  a  junction  with  his 
commander-in-chief  Napoleon.  He  ac- 
complished his  difficult  march  by  breaking 
down  the  bridges  behind  him,  and  thus  ar- 
resting the  progress  of  the  enemy  ;  but  it 
■was  with  difficulty,  and  not  witliout  loss, 
that  he  effected  his  proposed  union,  and 
his  retreat  from  the  Tyrol  gave  infinite 
spirits  not  only  to  the  martial  Tyrolese,  but 
to  all  the  favourers  of  Austria  in  the  north 
of  Italy.  The  Austrian  general  Laudon 
eallied'from  the  Tyrol  at  the  head  of  a 
considerable  force,  and  compelled  the  slen- 
der body  of  French  under  Balland,  to  shut 
themselves  up  in  garrisons  ;  and  their  op- 
ponents were  for  the  moment  again  lords 
of  a  part  of  Lombardy.  They  also  re-occu- 
pied Trieste  and  Fiume,  which  Buonaparte 
had  not  been  able  sufficiently  to  garrison  ; 
80  that  the  rear  of  the  French  army  seemed 
to  be  endangered. 

The  Venetians,  at  this  crisis,  fatally  for 
♦heir  ancient  republic,  if  indeed  its  doom 
.:ad  not,  as  is  most  likely,  been  long  before 
'.  ealed,  received  with  eager  ears  the  ac- 
rjounts,  exaggerated  as  they  were  by  rumour, 
-hat  the  French  were  driven  from  the  Ty- 
ol,  and  the  Austrians  about  to  descend  the 
Adige,  and  resume  their  ancient  empire  in 
Italy.  The  senate  were  aware  that  neither 
their  government  nor  their  persons  were 
icceptable  to  the  French  General,  and  that 
they  had  offended  him  irreconcilably  by  de- 
clining the  intimate  alliance  and  contribu- 
tion of  troops  which  he  had  demanded.  He 
had  parted  from  them  with  such  menaces 
as  were  not  easily  to  be  misunderstood. 
Tiiey  believed,  if  his  vengeance  might  not 
be  instant,  it  was  'only  the  more  sure  ;  and 
conceiving  him  now  deeply  engaged  in 
(iennany,  and  surrounded  by  the  Austrian 
levies  en  masse  from  the  warlike  countries 
of  Hungary  and  Croatia,  they  imagined'that 
throwing  their  own  weight  into  the  scale 
at  so  opportune  a  moment,  must  weigh  it 
down  for  ever.  To  chastise  their  insurgent 
subjects  of  Bergamo  and  Brescia,  was  an 
additional  temptation. 

Their  mode  of  making  war  savoured  of 
the  ancient  vindictive  temper  ascribed  to 
their  countrymen.  An  insurrection  was  se- 
cretly organized  through  all  the  territories 
■which  Venice  still  possessed  on  the  main- 
land, and  broke  out  like  the  celebrated  Si- 
cilian vespers,  in  blood  and  massacre.  In 
Verona  they  assassinated  more  than  a  hun- 
dred Frenchmen,  many  of  them  sick  soldiers 
in  the  hospitals, — an  abominable  crueltv, 
which  could  not  fail  to  bring  a  curse  on 
their  undertaking.  Fioravante,  a  Venetian 
general,  marched  at  the  head  of  a  body  of 
Sclavonians  to  besiege  the  forts  of  Verona, 
.nto  which  the  remaining  French  had  in»de 


their  retreat,  and  where  they  defended 
themselves.  Laudon  made  his  appearance 
with  his  Austrians  and  Tyrolese,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  fortunes  of  Buonaparte  had 
at  length  found  a  check. 

But  the  awakening  from  this  pleasing 
dream  was  equally  sudden  and  oreadful. 
News  arrived  that  preliminaries  of  peace 
had  been  agreed  upon,  and  an  armistice 
signed  between  France  and  Austria.  Lau- 
don, therefore,  and  the  auxiliaries  on  whom 
the  Venetians  had  so  much  relied,  retired 
from  Verona.  The  Lombards  sent  an  army 
to  the  assistance  of  the  French.  The  Scla- 
vonians, under  Fioravante,  after  fighting 
vigorously,  were  compelled  to  surrender. 
The  insurgent  towns  of  Vicenza,  Treviso, 
and  Padua,  were  again  occupied  by  the  Re- 
publicans. Rumour  proclaimed  the  terri- 
ble return  of  Napoleon  and  his  army,  and 
the  ill-advi?"'?  afuiale  of  Venice  were  lost 
in  stupor,  and  ^-^^cv-t;  ,z:^  eense  lefl  to  de- 
cide betwixt  unreserved  snI;a»ission  and 
hopeless  defence. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  artful  rules  in 
Buonaparte's  policy,  that  when  he  had  his 
enemy  at  decided  advantage,  by  some  point 
having  been  attained  which  seemed  to  give 
a  complete  turn  to  the  campaign  in  his  fa- 
vour, he  seldom  failed  to  offer  peace,  and 
peace  upon  conditions  much  more  favoura- 
ble than  perhaps  the  opposite  party  ex- 
pected. By  doing  this,  he  secured  such 
immediate  and  undisputed  fruits  of  his  vic- 
tory, as  the  treaty  of  peace  contained  ;  and 
he  was  sure  of  means  to  prosecute  farther 
advantages  at  some  future  opportunity.  He 
obtained,  moreover,  the  character  of  gen- 
erosity ;  and,  in  the  present  instance,  he 
avoided  the  great  danger  of  urging  to  bay  so 
formidable  a  power  as  Austria,  whose  de- 
spair might  be  capable  of  the  most  formida- 
ble efforts. 

With  this  purpose,  and  assuming  for  the 
first  time  that  disregard  for  the  usual  cer- 
emonial of  courts,  and  etiquette  of  politics, 
which  he  afterwards  seemed  to  have  pleas- 
ure in  displaying,  he  wrote  a  letter  in  per- 
son to  the  Archduke  Charles  on  the  subject 
of  peace. 

This  composition  affects  that  abrupt  la- 
conic severity  of  style,  which  cuts  short 
argument,  by  laying  down  general  maxims 
of  philosophy  of  a  trite  character,  and 
breaks  through  the  usual  laboured  periphras- 
tic introductions  with  which  ordinary  poli- 
ticians preface  their  proposals,  when  desir- 
ous of  entering  upon  a  treaty.  "  It  is  the 
part  of  a  brave  soldier,"  he  said,  "to  make 
war,  but  to  wish  for  peace.  The  present 
strife  has  lasted  six  years.  Have  we  not 
yet  slain  enough  of  men,  and  sufficiently 
outraged  humanity  ?  Peace  is  demanded  on 
all  sides.  Europe  at  large  has  laid  dowu 
tlie  arms  assumed  against  the  French  Re 
public.  Your  nation  remains  alone  in  hos- 
tility, and  yet  blood  flows  faster  than  ever. 
This  sixth  campaign  has  commenced  under 
ominous  circumstances.  End  how  it  will, 
some  thousands  of  men  more  will  be  slain 
on  either  side  ;  and  at  length,  after  all,  we 
must  come  to  an  agreement,  for  everything 
must  have  an  end  at  last,  even  the  angr^ 


Chap.  XXVn.}         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


267 


passions  of  men.  The  Executive  Directo- 
ry made  known  to  the  Emperor  their  de- 
sire to  put  a  period  to  the  war  which  deso- 
lates botli  countries,  but  the  intervention 
of  the  Court  of  London  opposed  it.  Is 
there  then  no  means  of  coming  to  an  un- 
derstanding, and  must  we  continue  to  cut 
each  other's  throats  for  the  interests  or  pas- 
sions of  a  nation,  herself  a  stranger  to  the 
miseries  of  war  ?  You,  the  General-in- 
chief,  who  approach  by  birth  so  near  to  the 
crown,  and  are  above  all  those  petty  pas- 
sions which  agitate  ministers,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  government,  will  you  resolve  to  be 
the  benefactor  of  mankind,  and  the  true  sa- 
viour of  Germany  ?  Do  not  suppose  that  I 
mean  by  that  expression  to  intimate,  that  it 
is  impossible  for  you  to  defend  yourself  by 
force  of  arms;  but  under  the  supposition, 
that  fortune  vvere  to  become  favourable  to 
you,  Germany  would  be  equally  exposed  to 
ravage.  With  respect  to  my  own  feelings, 
General,  if  this  proposition  should  be  the 
means  of  saving  one  single  man's  life,  I 
should  prefer  a  civic  crown  so  merited,  to 
the  melancholy  glory  attending  military 
success." 

The  whole  tone  of  the  letter  is  ingenious- 
ly calculated  to  give  the  proposition  the 
character  of  moderation,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  too  ready 
an  advance  towards  his  object.  The  Arch- 
duke, after  a  space  of  two  days,  returned 
this  brief  answer,  in  which  he  stripped  Buo- 
naparte's proposal  of  its  gilding,  and  treat- 
ed it  upon  the  fooling  of  an  ordinary  propo- 
sal for  a  treaty  of  peace,  made  by  a  party, 
who  tinds  it  convenient  for  his  interest : — 
•*  Unquestionably,  sir,  in  making  war,  and 
in  following  the  road  prescribed  by  honour 
and  duty,  I  desire  as  much  as  you  the  at- 
tainment of  peace  for  the  happiness  of  the 
people,  and  of  humanity.  Considering, 
however,  that  in  the  situation  which  I  hold, 
it  is  no  part  of  my  business  to  inquire  into 
and  determine  the  quarrel  of  the  bellige- 
rent powers  ;  and  that  I  am  not  furnished  on 
the  part  of  the  Emperor  with  any  plenipo- 
tentiary powers  for  treating,  you  will  ex- 
cuse me,  General,  if  I  do  not  enter  into  ne- 
gotiation with  you  touching  a  matter  of  the 
highest  importance,  but  which  does  not  lie 
within  my  department.  Whatever  shall 
happen,  either  respecting  the  future  chan- 
ces of  the  war,  or  the  prospect  of  peace,  I 
request  you  to  be  equally  convinced  of  my 
distinguished  esteem." 

The  Archduke  would  willingly  have  made 
some  advantage  of  this  proposal,  by  obtain- 
ing an  armistice  of  five  hours,  sufficient  to 
enable  him  to  form  a  junction  with  the 
corps  of  Kerpen,  which,  having  left  the  Ty- 
rol to  come  to  the  assistance  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, was  now  witiiin  a  short  dis- 
tance. But  Buonaparte  took  care  not  to 
permit  himself  to  be  hampered  by  any  such 
ill-timed  engagement,  and  after  some  sharp 
fighting,  in  which  the  French  as  usual  were 
successful,  he  was  able  to  interpose  such 
a  force  as  to  prevent  the  junction  taking 
place. 

Two  encounters  followed  at  Neumark 
and  at  Unznjark — both  gave  rise  \o  fresh 


disasters,  and  the  continued  retreat  of  the 
Archduke  Charles  and  the  Imperial  army. 
The  French  General  then  pressed  forward 
on  the  road  to  Vienna,  thrtough  mountain- 
passes  and  defiles,  which  could  not  have 
been  opened  otherwise  than  by  turning 
them  on  the  flank.  But  these  natural  fast- 
nesses were  no  longer  defences.  Juden- 
burg,  the  capital  of  Upper  Styria,  was  aban- 
doned to  the  French  without  a  blow,  and 
shortly  after  Buonaparte  entered  Gratz,  the 
principal  town  of  Lower  Styria,  with  the 
same  facility. 

The  Archduke  now  totally  changed  his 
plan  of  warfare.  He  no  longer  disputed 
the  ground  foot  by  foot,  but  began  to  re- 
treat by  hasty  marches  towards  Vienna,  de-  . 
termined  to  collect  the  last  and  utmost 
strength  which  the  extensive  states  of  the 
Emperor  could  supply,  and  fight  for  the  ex- 
istence, it  might  be,  of  his  brother's  throne, 
under  the  walls  of  his  capital.  However 
perilous  this  resolution  might  appear,  it  was 
worthy  of  the  high-spirited  prince  by  whom 
it  was  adopted;  and  there  were  reason.s. 
perhaps,  besides  those  arising  from  soldier- 
ly pride  and  princely  dignity,  which  seem- 
ed to  recommend  it. 

The  army  with  which  the  enterprising 
French  general  was  now  about  to  debouchc 
from  the  mountains,  and  enter  the  very  cen- 
tre of  Germany,  had  suffered  considerably 
since  the  commencement  of  the  campaign, 
not  only  by  the  sword,  but  by  severity  of 
weather,  and  the  excessive  fatigue  which 
they  endured  in  executing  the  rapid  marcli- 
es,  by  which  their  leader  succeeded  in  sf^ 
curing  victory  ;  and  the  French  armies  or 
the  Rhine  had  not,  as  the  plan  of  the  cam 
paign  dictated,  made  any  movement  in  ad 
Vance  corresponding  with  the  march  of 
Buonaparte. 

Nor,  in  the  country  which  they  were 
about  to  enter  with  diminished  forces, 
could  Buonaparte  trust  to  the  influence  of 
the  same  moral  feeling  in  the  people  invad- 
ed, which  had  paved  the  way  to  so  many 
victories  on  the  Rhine.  The  citizens  of 
Austria,  though  living  under  a  despotic  gov- 
ernment, are  little  sensible  of  its  severities, 
and  are  sincerely  attached,  to  the  Emperor, 
whobe  personal  habits  incline  him  to  live 
with  his  people  without  much  form,  and 
mix  in  public  amusements,  or  appear  in  the 
public  walks,  like  a  fatlier  in  the  midst  of 
his  family.  The  nobility  were  as  ready  as 
in  former  times  to  bring  out  their  vassals, 
and  a  general  knowledge  of  discipline  is 
familiar  to  the  German  peasant  as  a  pa.t  of 
his  education.  Hungary  pos!«Pssed  still  the 
high-spirited  race  of  barons  and  cavaliers, 
who,  in  their  great  convocation  in  1740,  rose 
at  once,  and  drawing  their  sabres,  joined  in 
the  celebrated  exclamation.  •'  Aloriamur 
pro  rege  nostra,  Maria  Teresa  !''  The  Tyrol 
was  in  possession  of  its  own  warlike  inhab- 
itants, all  in  arms,  and  so  far  successful,  a» 
to  have  driven  Joubert  out  of  Ihcir  moun- 
tains. Trieste  and  F'iume  were  retaken  in 
the  rear  of  the  French  army.  Buonaparte 
had  no  line  of  communication  Mhen  sep;^- 
rated  from  Italy,  and  no  means  of  obtaining 
supplieSj  but  from  a  country  which  would 


26S 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       [Chap.  XXVII. 


probably  be  soon  in  insurrection  in  his  rear, 
ris  well  as  on  his  flanks.  A  battle  lost,  when 
there  was  neither  support,  reserve,  nor  place 
of  arms  nearer  than  Klagenfurt,  would  have 
been  annihilation.  To  add  to  these  con- 
siderations, it  was  now  known  that  the  V"e- 
netiaii  Republic  h.id  assumed  a  formidable 
and  hostile  aspect  in  Italy;  by  which, join- 
ed to  a  natural  explosion  of  feeling,  reli- 
gious and  national,  the  French  cause  was 
considerably  endangered  in  that  country. 
There  were  so  many  favourers  of  the  old 
system,  together  with  the  general  influence 
of  the  Catholic  clergy,  that  it  seemed  not 
unlikely  this  insurrection  might  spread  fast 
and  far.  Italy,  in  that  case,  would  have 
been  no  effectual  place  of  refuge  to  Buona- 
parte or  his  army.  The  .Archduke  enumer- 
ated all  these  advantages  to  the  cabinet  of 
Vienna,  and  e.xhorted  tliem  to  stand  the  last 
cast  of  the  bloody  die. 

But  the  terror,  grief,  and  confusion,  nat- 
ural in  a  great  metropolis,  whose  peace  for 
the  first  time  for  so  many  years  was  alarm- 
ed with  the  approach  of  the  unconquered 
and  apparently  fated  general,  who,  having 
defeated  and  destroyed  five  of  their  choic- 
est armies,  was  now  driving  under  its  walls 
the  remnants  of  the  last,  though  command- 
ed by  that  prince  whom  they  regarded  as 
the  hope  and  flower  of  Austrian  warfare, 
opposed  this  daring  resolution.  The  alarm 
was  general,  beginning  with  the  court  it- 
self; and  the  most  valuable  property  and 
treasure  were  packed  up  to  be  carried  into 
Hungary,  where  the  Royal  Family  deter- 
mined to  take  refuge.  It  is  worthy  of 
mention,  that  among  the  fugitives  of  the 
Imperial  House,  was  the  Arch-Duchess 
Maria  Louisa,  then  between  five  and  si.x 
years  old,  whom  our  imagination  may  con- 
ceive agitated  by  every  species  of  childish 
terror  derived  from  the  approach  of  the  vic- 
torious general,  on  whom  she  was,  at  a  fu- 
ture and  similar  crisis,  destined  to  bestow 
her  hand. 

The  cries  of  the  wealthy  burghers  were 
of  course  for  peace.  The  enemy  were 
within  fourteen  or  fifteen  days'  march  of 
their  walls  ;  nor  had  the  city  (perhaps  for- 
tunately) any  fortifications,  which  in  the 
modern  state  of  war  could  have  made  it  de- 
fensible even  for  a  day.  They  were,  more- 
over, sec*>nded  by  a  party  in  the  cabinet; 
and,  in  short,  whether  it  chanced  for  good 
or  for  evil,  the  selfish  principle  of  those 
who  had  much  to  lose,  and  were  timid 
in  proportion,  predominated  against  that, 
which  desired  at  all  risks  the  continuance 
of  a  determined  and  obstinate  defence.  It 
T'iquired  luanv  lessons  to  convince  both 
hovereign  and:  people,  that  it  is  better  to 
put  all  on  the  hazard — better  even  to  lose 
hH,  than  tfk  sanction  the  being  pillaged  at 
'lilFerent  times,  and  by  degrees,  under  pre- 
teti'ie  of  friendship  and  amity.  A  bow 
which  is  forcibly  strained  back  will  regain 
its  natural  position  ;  but  if  supple  enough 
to  yield  of  itself  to  the  counter  direction, 
it  will  never  recover  its  elasticity. 

The  affairs,  however,  of  the  Austrians 
were  in  such  a  condition,  that  it  could  hard- 
ly be  said  whether  the  party  who  declared 


for  peace,  to  obtain  some  respite  from  the 
distresses  of  the  country,  or  those  who 
wished  to  continue  war  with  the  chances 
of  success  which  we  have  indicated,  advis- 
ed the  least  embarrassing  course.  The 
Court  of  Vienna  finally  adopted  the  alterna- 
tive of  treaty,  and  that  of  Lcoben  was  set 
on  foot. 

General  Beilegarde  and  Mcrfield,  on  the 
part  of  the  Emperor,  presented  them- 
selves at  the  head-quarters  of  Buonaparte, 
13th  April  1797,  and  announced  tlie  desire 
of  their  sovereign  for  peace.  Buonaparte 
granted  a  suspension  of  arms,  to  endure 
for  five  days  only;  which  was  afterwards 
extended,  when  the  probability  of  the  de- 
finitive treaty  of  peace  was  evident. 

It  is  aftirmed,  that  in  the  whole  discus- 
sions respecting  this  most  important  ar- 
mistice, JJapoleon — as  a  conqueror  whose 
victories  had  been  in  a  certain  degree  his 
own,  whose  army  had  been  supported  and 
paid  from  the  resources  of  the  country 
which  he  conquered,  who  had  received 
reinforcements  from  France  only  late  and 
reluctantly,  and  who  had  recruited  his  army 
by  new  levies  among  the  republicanized 
Italians — maintained  an  appearance  of  in- 
dependence of  the  government  of  France. 
He  had,  even  at  this  period,  assumed  a  free- 
dom of  thought  and  action,  the  tenth  part 
of  the  suspicion  attached  to  which  would 
have  cost  the  most  popular  general  his 
head  in  the  times  of  D.inton  and  Robes- 
pierre. But,  though  acquired  slowly,  and 
in  counteraction  to  the  once  overpowering, 
and  still  powerful,  democratic  influence, 
the  authority  of  Buonaparte  was  great ;  and 
indeed,  the  power  which  a  conquering  gen- 
eral attains,  by  means  of  his  successes,  in 
the  bosom  of  his  soldiers,  becomes  soon 
formidable  to  any  species  of  government, 
where  the  soldier  is  not  intimately  interest- 
ed in  the  liberties  of  the  subject. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Napole- 
on exhibited  publicly  any  of  that  spirit  of 
independence  which  the  Directory  appear  to 
have  dreaded,  and  which,  according  to  the 
opinion  which  he  himself  intimates,  seems 
to  have  delayed  the  promised  co-operation, 
which  was  to  be  afforded  by  the  eastern 
armies  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  Far 
from  testifying  such  a  feeling,  his  assertion 
of  the  rights  of  the  Republic  was  decidedly 
striking,  of  which  the  following  is  a  remark- 
able instance.  The  Austrian  commission- 
er, in  hopes  to  gain  some  credit  for  the  ad- 
mission, had  stated  in  the  preliminary  ar- 
ticles of  the  convention,  as  a  concession 
of  consequence,  that  his  Imperial  Majesty 
acknowledged  the  French  government  in 
its  present  stale.  "  Strike  out  that  con- 
dition,'' said  Buonaparte,  sternly;  "the 
French  Republic  is  like  the  sun  in  heaven. 
The  misfortune  lies  with  those  who  are  bo 
blind  as  to  be  ignorant  of  the  existence  of 
either."  It  was  gallaiitly  spoken  ;  but  how 
strange  to  reflect,  that  the  same  individual, 
in  three  or  four  years  afterwards,  was  able 
to  place  an  extinguisher  on  one  of  those 
suns,  without  even  an  eclipse  being  the 
consequence.*  


*  Buonaparte  first  meutions  tbi*  circuuutaac* 


Chap.XXVIL]  LIFE  OF  IVAPOLEO.V  BUONAPARTE. 


269 


It  is  remarkable  also,  that  while  assert- 
ing to  foreigners  this  supreme  dignity  of 
the  French  Republic,  Buonaparte  should 
have  departed  so  far  from  the  respect  he 
owed  its  rulers.  The  preliminaries  of  peace 
were  proposed  for  sisnature  on  the  18th 
April.  But  General  Clarke,  to  whom  the 
Directory  had  committed  full  powers  to  act 
in  the  matter,  was  suU  at  Turin.  He  was 
understood  to  be  the  full  conlidant  of  his 
inaaters,  and  to  iiave  instructions  to  watch 
the  motions  of  Buonaparte,  nay  to  place 
him  under  arrest,  should  he  see  cause  to 
doubt  his  fealty  to  the  I'rencii  government. 
Napoleon,  nevertheless,  did  not  hesitate  to 
tender  his  individual  signature  and  warranty, 
and  these  were  readily  admitted  by  the  Aus- 
trian plenipotentiaries  : — an  ominous  sign 
of  the  declension  of  the  powers  of  the  Di- 
rectory, considering  that  a  military  gener- 
al, without  the  supp'^rt  even  of  the  com- 
missioners from  the  government,  or  pro- 
consuis,  as  they  were  called,  was  regarded 
as  sutRcient  to  ratify  a  treaty  of  such  con- 
sequence. No  doubt  seems  to  have  been 
entertained  that  he  had  the  power  to  per- 
form what  he  had  guaranteed  ;  and  the  part 
which  he  acted  was  the  more  remarkable, 
considering  the  high  commis.sion  of  General 
Clarke. 

The  articles  in  the  treaty  of  Leoben  re- 
mained long  secret ;  the  cause  of  which  ap- 
pears to  have  been,  that  the  high  contract- 
ing parties  were  not  willing  comparisons 
should  be  made  between  the  preliminaries 
as  they  were  originally  settled,  and  the 
etrange  and  violent  altercations  which  oc- 
curred ill  the  definitive  treaty  of  Campo 
Formio.  These  two  treaties  of  pacification 
differed,  the  one  from  the  other,  in  relation 
to  the  degree  and  manner  how  a  meditated 
partition  of  the  territory  of  Venice,  of  the 
Cisalpine  republic,  and  other  smaller  pow- 
ers, was  to  be  accomplished,  for  the  mutu- 
al benefit  of  France  and  Austria.  It  is  mel- 
ancholy to  observe,  but  it  is  nevertheless  an 
important  truth,  that  there  is  no  moment 
during  which  independent  states  of  the  sec- 
ond class  have  more  occasion  to  be  alarm- 
ed for  their  security,  than  when  more  pow- 
erful nations  m  their  vicinity  are  about  to 
conclude  peace.  It  is  so  easy  to  accom- 
modate these  differences  of  the  strong  at  the 
expense  of  such  weaker  states,  as,  if  they 
are  injured,  have  neither  the  power  of  mak- 
ing their  complaints  heard,  nor  of  defend- 
ing themselves  by  force,  that,  in  the  iron 
age  in  which  it  has  been  our  fate  to  live, 
the  injustice  of  such  an  arrangement  has 
never  been  considered  as  offering  any  coun- 
terpoise to  its  great  convenience,  whatever 
the  law  of  nations  might  teach  to  the  con- 
trary. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  enter  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  the  preliminaries  of  Leoben,  un- 
til we  notice  the  treaty  of  Campo  Formio, 
under  which  they  were  finally  modified, 
and  by  which  they  were  adjusted  and  con- 
trolled.   It  may  be,  however,  the  moment 

u  having  taken  place  at  Leoben,  afterwards  at 
the  definitive  treaty  of  Campo  Formio.  The  ct- 
fcct  ig  the  same,  wherever  tlie  words  were  spoken. 


to  state,  that  Buonaparte  was  considerably 
blamed,  by  the  Directory  and  oth©re,  for 
stopjiing  short  in  the  career  of  conquest, 
and  allowing  the  House  of  Austria  terms 
which  left  her  still  formidable  to  France, 
when,  said  the  censors,  it  would  have  cost 
him  but  anotiier  victory  to  blot  the  most 
constant  and  powerful  enemy  of  the  French 
Republic  out  of  the  map  of  Europe;  oral 
least  to  confine  her  to  her  hereditary  stale 
in  Germany.  To  such  criticism  he  replied, 
in  a  despatch  to  the  Directory  from  Leo- 
ben, during  the  progress  of  the  treaty  ; 
"  If  at  the  commencement  of  these  Italian 
campaigns  I  had  made  a  point  of  going  to 
Tumi,  I  should  never  have  parsed  the  Po — 
had  1  insisted  prematurely  on  advancing  to 
Rome,  I  could  never  have  secured  Milan — 
and  now  had  I  made  an  indispensable  ob- 
ject of  reaching  Vienna,  I  might  have  de- 
stroyed the  Republic." 

Such  was  his  able  and  judicious  defence 
of  a  conduct,  which,  by  stopping  short  of 
some  ultimate  ande-^ctreme  point  apparently 
within  his  grasp,  extracted  every  advantage 
from  fear  which  despair  perhaps  might  not 
have  yielded  him,  if  the  enemy  had  been 
driven  to  extremity.  And  it  is  remarkable, 
that  the  catastrophe  of  Napoleon  himself 
was  a  corollary  of  the  doctrine  which  he 
now  laid  down  ;  for,  had  he  not  insisted  up- 
on penetrating  to  Moscow,  there  is  no  judg- 
ing how  much  longer  he  might  have  held 
the  empiie  of  France. 

The  contents  of  the  treaty  of  Leoben.  so 
far  as  they  were  announced  to  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  French  nation  by  the  Di 
rectory,  only  made  known  as  part  of  the 
preliminaries,  that  the  cession  of  tiie 
Belgic  provinces,  and  of  such  a  boundary 
as  France  might  choose  to  demand  upon 
the  Rhine,  had  been  admitted  by  Austria; 
and  that  she  had  consented  to  recognise  a 
single  Republic  in  Italy,  to  be  composed  oat 
of  those  which  had  been  provisionally  es- 
tablished. But  shortly  afterwards  it  trans- 
pired, that  Mantua,  the  subject  of  so  much 
and  such  bloody  contest,  and  the  very  cita- 
del of  Italy,  as  had  appeared  from  the  events 
of  these  sanguinary  campaigns,  was  to  be 
resigned  to  .\ustria,  from  whose  tenacioi» 
grasp  it  had  been  wrenched  with  so  much 
difficulty.  This  measure  was  unpopular; 
and  it  will  be  found  that  Buonaparte  had  the 
ingenuity,  in  the  definitive  treaty  of  peace, 
to  substitute  an  indemnification,  which  he 
ought  not  to  have  given,  and  which  was 
certainly  the  last  which  the  Austrians 
should  have  accepted. 

It  was  now  the  time  for  Venice  to  trem- 
ble. She  had  declared  against  the  French 
in  their  absence  ;  her  vindictive  population 
had  murdered  many  of  them ;  the  resent- 
ment of  the  French  soldiers  was  excited  to 
the  utmost,  and  the  Venetians  had  no  right 
to  reckon  upon  the  forbearance  of  their 
general.  The  treaty  of  Leoben  left  the 
Senate  of  that  ancient  state  absolutely  with- 
out support ;  nay,  as  they  afterwards  learn- 
ed, Austria,  after  pleading  their  cause  for  a 
certain  time,  had  ended  by  stipulating  for  a 
share  of  their  spoils,  which  had  been  .as- 
signed to  her  by  a  secret  article  of  the 


270 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chop.  XX  VU. 


treaty.  The  doom  of  the  oligarchy  was 
prononnced  ere  Buonaparte  had  yet  travers- 
ed the  Noric  and  Julian  Alps,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  enforcing  it.  By  a  letter  to  the 
Doge,  dated  from  the  capital  of  Upper  Sty- 
ria,  Napoleon,  bitterly  upbraiding  the  sen- 
ate for  requiting  his  generosity  with  treach- 
ery and  ingratitude,  demanded  that  they 
should  return  by  his  aid-de-camp  who  bore 
the  letter,  their  instant  choice  betwi.^t  war 
and  peace,  and  allowing  them  only  four- 
and-twenty  hours  to  disperse  their  insur- 
gent peasantry,  and  submit  to  his  clemency. 
Junot,  introduced  into  the  senate,  made 
the  threats  of  his  master  ring  in  the  as- 
tounded ears  of  the  members,  and  by  the 
blunt  and  rough  manner  of  a  soldier,  who 
had  risen  from  the  ranks,  added  to  the  dis- 
may of  the  trembling  nobles.  The  senate 
returned  a  humble  apology  to  Buonaparte, 
and  despatched  agents  to  deprecate  his 
wrath.  These  envoys  were  doomed  to  ex- 
perience one  of  those  scenes  of  violence, 
which  were  in  some  degree  natural  to  this 
extraordinary  man,  but  to  which  in  certain 
cases  he  seems  to  have  designedly  given 
way,  in  order  to  strike  consternation  into 
those  whom  he  addressed.  ''  Are  the  pris- 
oners at  liberty  ?"  he  said,  with  a  stern 
voice,  and  without  replying  to  the  humble 
greetings  of  the  terrified  envoys.  They 
answered  with  hesitation,  that  they  had  lib- 
erated the  French,  the  Polish,  and  the  Bres- 
cians,  who  had  been  made  captive  in  the 
insurrectionary  war.  "  I  will  have  them 
all — all !"  exclaimed  Buonaparte — "  all  who 
are  in  prison  on  account  of  their  political 
sentiments.  I  will  go  myself  to  destroy 
your  dungeons  on  the  Bridge  of  Tears — 
opinions  shall  be  free — I  will  have  no  In- 
quisition. If  all  the  prisoners  are  not  set 
at  instant  liberty,  the  English  envoy  dis- 
missed, the  people  disarmd,  I  declare  in- 
stant war.  I  might  have  gone  to  Vienna  if 
I  had  listed — I  have  concluded  a  peace  with 
the  Emperor — I  have  eighty  thousand  men, 
twenty  gun-boats — I  will  hear  of  no  Inqui- 
sition, and  no  Senate  either — I  will  dictate 
the  law  to  you — I  will  prove  an  Aitila  to 
Venice.  If  you  cannot  disarm  your  popu- 
lation, I  will  do  it  in  your  stead — your  gov- 
ernment is  antiquated — it  must  crumble  to 
pieces." 

While  Buonaparte,  in  these  disjointed 
yet  significant  threats,  stood  before  the  dep- 
uties like  the  Argantes  of  Italy's  heroic 
poet,  and  gave  them  the  choice  of  peace 
and  war  with  the  air  of  a  superior  being, 
capable  at  once  to  dictate  their  fate,  he 
had  not  yet  heard  of  the  massacre  of  Vero- 
na, or  of  the  batteries  of  a  Venetian  fort  on 
the  Lido  having  fired  upon  a  French  vessel, 
who  had  run  into  the  port  to  escape  the 
pursuit  of  two  armed  Austrian  ships.  The 
vessel  vva!5  alleged  to  have  been  sunk,  and 
the  mnsttr  and  some  of  the  crew  to  have 
been  killed.  The  news  of  these  fresh  ag- 
gressions did  not  fail  to  aggravate  his  indig- 
nation to  tlve  highest  pitch.  The  terrified 
deputies  ventured  to  touch  with  delicacy 
on  the  subject  of  pecuniary  atonement. 
Buonaparte's  answer  was  worthy  of  a  Ro- 
man.    •'  If  you  could  proffer  me,"  he  said. 


"  the  treasures  of  Peru— if  you  could  strew 
tlie  whole  district  with  gold,  it  could  not 
atone  for  the  French  blood  which  has  beea 
treacherously  spilt." 

Accordingly,  on  the  3d  of  May,  Buona- 
parte declared  war  against  Venice,  and  or- 
dered the  French  minister  to  leave  the 
city  ;  the  French  troops,  and  those  of  the 
new  Italian  republics,  were  at  the  same 
time  commanded  to  advance,  and  to  de- 
stroy in  their  progress,  wherever  they 
found  it  displayed,  the  winged  Lion  of 
Saint  Marc,  the  ancient  emblem  of  Vene- 
tian sovereignty.  The  declaration  is  dated 
at  Pal  ma  Nova. 

It  had  been  already  acted  upon  by  the 
French  who  were  on  the  Venetian  frontier, 
and  by  La  Hotze,  a  remarkable  charocter, 
who  was  then  at  the  head  of  the  army  of 
the  Italian  republics  of  the  new  model,  and 
the  forces  of  the  towns  of  Brescia  and  Ber- 
gamo, which  aspired  to  the  same  indepen- 
dence. This  commander  was  of  Swiss  ex- 
traction ;  an  excellent  young  officer,  and 
at  that  time  enamoured  of  liberty  on  the 
French  system,  though  he  afterwards  savir 
so  much  reason  to  change  his  opinions  that 
he  lost  his  life,  as  we  may  have  occasion 
to  mention,  fighting  under  the  Austrian  ban- 
ners. 

The  terrified  Senate  of  Venice  proved 
unworthy  descendants  of  the  Zenos,  Dan- 
dolos,  and  Morosinis,  as  the  defenders  of 
Christendom,  and  the  proud  opposers  of 
Papal  oppression.  The  best  resource  they 
could  imagine  to  themselves,  was  to  em- 
ploy at  Paris  those  golden  means  of  inter- 
cession which  Buonaparte  had  so  sturdily 
rejected.  Napoleon  assures  us  that  they 
found  favour  by  means  of  these  weighty  ar- 
guments. The  Directory,  moved,  we  are 
informed,  by  the  motives  of  ten  millions 
of  French  francs,  transmitted  from  Venice 
in  bills  of  exchange,  sent  to  the  General  of 
Italy  orders  to  spare  the  ancient  senate  and 
aristocracy.  But  the  account  of  the  trans- 
action, with  the  manner  in  which  the  re- 
mittances were  distributed,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Napoleon,  by  despatches  inter- 
cepted at  Milan.  The  members  of  the 
French  Government,  whom  these  docu- 
ments would  have  convicted  of  peculation 
and  bribery,  were  compelled  to  be  silent; 
and  Buonaparte,  availing  himself  of  some 
chicanery  as  to  certain  le^l  solemnities, 
took  it  on  him  totally  to  disregard  the  or- 
ders he  had  received. 

The  Senate  of  Venice,  rather  stupified 
than  stimulated  by  the  excess  of  their  dan- 
ger, were  holding  on  the  30th  April  a  sort 
of  privy  council  in  the  apartments  of  the 
Doge,  when  a  letter  from  the  commandant 
of  their  flotilla  informed  them,  that  the 
French  were  erecting  fortifications  on  the 
low  grounds  contiguous  to  the  lagoons  or 
shallow  cliaiinels  which  divide  from  the 
main  land  and  from  each  other  the  little 
isles  on  which  the  amphibious  Mistress  of 
the  Adriatic  holds  her  foundation  ;  and  pro- 
posing, in  the  blunt  style  of  a  gallant  sailor 
to  baiter  them  to  pieces  about  their  eaK 
before  the  works  could  be  completed.  In- 
dfied.  nothing  would  have  been  more  easy 


Chap.  XXVII.}        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


271 


than  to  defend  the  lagoons  against  an  ene-  ] 
my,  who,  notwithstanding  ?<apoleon's  bra-  | 
vado,  had  not  even  a  single  boat.     But  the  ! 
proposal,  had  it  been  made   to  an  abbess  I 
and  a  convent  of  nuns,  could  scarce  have  I 
appeared  more  extraordinary  than  it  did  to  j 
these  degenerate  nobles.    Yet  the  sense  of  ] 
ehame  prevailed;  and  though  trembling  for  | 
the  consequences  of  the  order  which  they  I 
issued,  the  Senate  directed  that  the  admiral 
should  proceed  to  action.     Immediately  af- 
ter the  order  was  received,  their  delibera- 
tions were  interrupted  by  the   thunder  of 
the  cannon  on  either  side — the  N'enetian 
gun-boats  pouring  their  fire  on  the  van  of 
the  French  army,  which  had  begun  to  ar- 
rive at  Fusina. 

To  interrupt  these  ominous  sounds,  two 
plenipotentiaries  were  despatched  to  make 
intercession  with  the  French  general ;  and, 
to  prevent  delay,  the  Doge  himself  under- 
took to  report  the  result. 

The  Grand  Council  was  convoked  on  the 
1st  May,  when  the  Doge,  pale  in  counte- 
nance, and  disconcerted  in  demeanour, 
proposed,  as  the  only  means  of  safety,  the 
admission  of  some  democratic  modifica- 
tions into  their  forms,  under  the  direction 
of  General  Buonaparte  ;  or,  in  other  words, 
to  lay  their  institutions  at  the  leet  of  the 
conqueror,  to  be 're-modelled  at  his  pleas- 
ure. Of  six  hundred  and  ninety  patricians, 
only  twenty-one  dissented  from  a  vote 
-which  inferred  the  absolute  surrender  of 
their  constitution.  The  conditions  to  be 
agreed  on  were  indeed  declared  subject  to 
the  revision  of  the  Council ;  but  this,  in 
the  circumstances,  could  only  be  consider- 
ed as  a  clause  intended  to  save  appearances. 
The  surrender  must  have  been  regarded  as 
unconditional  and  total. 

Amidst  the  dejection  and  confusion 
which  possessed  the  government,  some 
able  intriguer  (the  secretary,  it  was  sait\ 
of  the  French  ambassador  at  Venice, 
whose  frincipal  had  been  recalled)  con- 
trived to  induce  the  Venetian  government 
to  commit  an  act  of  absolute  suicide,  so  as 
to  spare  Buonaparte  the  trouble  and  small 
degree  of  scandal  which  might  attach  to 
totally  destroying  the  existence  of  the  Re- 
pnblic. 

On  the  9th  of  May,  as  the  committee  of 
the  Great  Council  were  in  close  delibera- 
tion with  the  Doge,  two  strangers  intruded 
upon  those  councils,  which  heretofore — 
Buch  was  the  jealous  severity  of  the  oligar- 
chy— were  like  those  of  supernaturad  be- 
ings, those  who  looked  on  them  died.  But 
now,  affliction,  confusion,  and  fear,  had 
withdrawn  the  guards  from  these  secret  and 
mysterious  chambers,  and  laid  open  to  the 
intrusion  of  strangers  those  stern  haunts 
of  a  auspicious  oligarchy,  where,  in  other 
days,  an  official  or  lictor  of  the  govern- 
ment might  have  been  punished  with  death 
even  for  too  loud  a  foot-fall,  far  more  for 
the  fatal  crime  of  having  heard  more  than 
was  designed  to  come  to  his  knowledge. 
All  this  was  now  ended  ;  and  without  check 
01  rebuke  the  two  strangers  were  permitted 
to  communicate  with  the  Senate  by  writing. 
Their  advice,  which  had  the  terms  of  a 


command,  was,  to  anticipate  the  intended 
reforms  of  the  French — to  dissolve  the 
present  government — throw  open  their  pris- 
ons— disband  their  Sclavonian  soldiers — 
plant  the  tree  of  liberty  on  the  Place  of 
Saint  Marc,  and  to  take  other  populy 
measures  of  the  same  nature,  the  least  o^ 
which,  proposed  but  a  few  months  before 
would  have  been  a  signal  of  death  to  the 
individual  wiio  had  dared  to  hint  at  it. 

An  English  satirist  has  told  us  a  story  of 
a  man  persuaded  by  an  eloquent  friend  to 
hang  himself  in  order  to  preserve  his  life.* 
The  story  of  the  fall  of  Venice  vindicates 
the  boldness  of  the  satire.  It  does  not 
appear  that  Buonaparte  could  have  gone 
farther,  nay  it  seems  unlikely  he  would 
have  gone  so  far,  as  was  now  recom- 
mended. 

As  the  friendly  advisers  had  hinted 
that  the  utmost  speed  was  necessary,  the 
committee  scarce  interposed  an  interval  of 
three  days,  between  receiving  the  advice 
and  recommending  it  to  the  Great  Council ; 
and  began  in  the  meanwhile  to  anticipate 
the  destruction  of  their  government  and 
surrender  of  their  city,  by  dismantling 
their  fleet  and  disbanding  their  soldiers. 

At  length  the  Great  Council  assembled 
on  the  31st  May.  The  Doge  had  com- 
menced a  pathetic  discourse  on  the  extrem- 
ities to  which  the  country  was  reduced, 
when  an  irregular  discharge  of  fire-arms 
took  place  under  the  very  windows  of  the 
Council-house.  All  started  up  in  confu 
ion.  Some  supposed  the  Sclavonians  were 
plundering  the  citizens  ;  some  that  the 
lower  orders  had  risen  on  the  nobility ;  oth- 
ers, that  the  French  had  entered  Venice, 
and  were  proceeding  to  sack  and  pillage  it. 
The  terrified  and  timid  counsellors  did  not 
wait  to  inquire  what  was  the  real  cause  of 
the  disturbance,  but  hurried  forward,  like 
sheep,  in  the  path  which  had  been  indicat- 
ed to  them.  They  hastened  to  despoil  their 
ancient  government  of  all  authority,  to  sign 
in  a  manner  its  sentence  of  civil  death — 
added  every  thing  which  could  render  the 
sacrifice  more  agreeable  to  Buonaparte — 
and  separated  in  confusion,  but  under  the 
impression  that  they  had  taken  the  best 
measure  in  their  power  for  quelling  the  tu- 
mult, by  meeting  the  wishes  of  the  predom- 
inant party.  But  this  was  by  no  means  the 
case.  On  the  contrary,  they  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  find  that  the  insurrection,  of 
which  the  firing  was  the  signal,  was  direct- 
ed not  against  the  aristocrats,  but  against 
those  who  proposed  the  surrender  of  the  na- 
tional independence,  .\rmed  bands  shout- 
ed, "  Long  live  Saint  Marc,  and  perish  for- 
eign domination  '."  Others  indeed  there 
were,  who  displayed  in  opposition  three- 
coloured  banners,  with  the  war-cry  of 
"  Liberty  for  ever!"  The  disbanded  and 
mutinous  soldiers  mixed  among  the  hostile 
groups,  and  threatened  the  town  with  fiir 
and  pillage. 

Amid  this  horrible  confusion,  and  while 
the  parties  were  firing  on  each  other,  a  p»o- 
visional    government  was  hastily   named. 


*  Dr,  .\rbuthnot,  in  the  History  of  John  Bull. 


272 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.      [Chap.  XXVUl. 


Boata  were  dispatched  to  bring  three  thou- 
sand French  soldiers  into  the  city.  These 
took  possession  of  the  Place  of  Saint  Marc, 
while  some  of  the  inhabitants  shouted;  but 
the  greater  part,  who  were  probably  not  the 
less  sensible  of  the  execrable  tyranny  of 
the  old  aristocracy,  saw  it  fall  in  mournful 
ailence,  because  there  fell,  along  with  the 
ancient  institutions  of  their  country,  how- 
ever little  some  of  these  were  to  be  regret- 
ted, the  honour  and  independence  of  the 
state  itself. 

The  terms  wljich  the  French  granted,  or 
rather  imposed,  appeared  sufficiently  mod- 
erate, so  far  as  they  were  made  public. 
They  announced  that  the  foreign  troops 
would  remain  so  long,  and  no  longer,  than 
might  be  necessary  to  protect  the  peace  of 
Venice — they  undertook  to  guarantee  the 
public  debt,  and  the  payment  of  the  pen- 
sions allowed  to  the  impoverished  gentry. 
They  required,  indeed,  the  continuance  of 
the  prosecution  against  the  commander  of 
that  fort  of  Luco  who  had  fired  on  the 
French  vessel  ;  but  all  other  offenders  were 
pardoned,  and  Buonapai-te  afterwards  suf- 
fered even  this  affair  to  pass  into  oblivion  ; 
which  excited  doubt  whether  the  transac- 
tion had  ever  been  so  serious  as  had  been 
alleged. 


Five  secret  and  less  palatable  article* 
attended  these  avowed  conditions.  One 
provided  for  the  various  exchanges  of  ter- 
ritory which  had  been  already  settled  at 
the  Venetian  expense  betwixt  Austria  anu 
France.  The  second  and  third  stipulated 
the  payment  of  three  millions  of  francs 
in  specie,  and  as  many  in  naval  stores. 
Another  prescribed  the  cession  of  three 
ships  of  wair,  and  of  two  frigates,  armed 
and  equipped.  A  fifth  ratified  the  exaction, 
in  the  usual  style  of  French  cupidity,  of 
twenty  pictures  and  five  hundred  manu- 
scripts. 

It  will  be  seen  hereafter  what  advanta- 
ges the  Venetians  purchased  by  all  these 
unconscionable  conditions.  At  the  moment, 
they  understood  that  the  stipulations  were 
to  imply  a  guarantee  of  the  independent 
existence  of  their  country  as  a  democrati- 
cal  state.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  necessi- 
ty for  raising  the  supolies  to  gratify  the  ra- 
pacity of  the  French,  obliged  the  provision- 
al government  to  have  recourse  to  forced 
loans  ;  and  in  this  manner  they  inhospita- 
bly plundered  the  Duke  of  Modena  (who 
had  fled  to  Venice  for  refuge  when  Buona- 
parte first  entered  Lombardy)  of  his  re- 
maining treasure,  amounting  to  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety  thousand  sequins. 


CHAP.  XXVIII. 

Napoleon's  amatory  Correspondence  with  Josephine. — His  Court  at  Montebello. — Ne- 
gotiations and  Pleasure  mingled  there. — Genoa. — Revolutionary  spirit  of  the  Geno- 
ese.  They  rise  in  Insurrection,  but  are  quelled  by  the  Govej-nment.  and  the  French 

plundered  and  imprisoned. — Buonaparte  interferes,  and  appoints  the  outlinet  of  a 
new  Government. — Sardinia. — Naples. —  The  Cispadane,  Transpadane,  and  Emilian 
Republics,  united  under  the  name  of  the  Cisalpine  Republic. —  The  Valteline. —  The 
Grisons. —  The  Valteliru  united  to  Lombardy. — Great  improvement  of  Italy,  and  the 
Italian  Character,  from  these  changes. — Difficulties  in  the  way  of  Pacification  betvoixt 
Prance  and  Austria. —  The  Directory  and  Napoleon  take  different  views. —  Treaty  of 
Campo  Formio. — Buonaparte  takes  leave  of  the  Army  of  Italy,  to  act  as  French  Plen- 
ipotentiary at  Rastadt.  • 

a  temperament  as  fiery  in  love  as  in  war. 
The  language  of  the  conqueror,  who  v.ra» 
disposing  of  states  at  his  pleasure,  and  de- 
feating the  most  celebrated  commanders  of 
the  time,  is  as  enthusiastic  as  that  of  an 
Arcadian.  We  cannot  suppress  the  truth, 
that  {in  passages  which  we  certainly  shall 

euul  in  which  you  reign  !  Ah  !  my  adorable  wife, 
I  know  not  what  fate  awaits  me,  but  if  it  keep  me 
much  longer  from  you  it  will  be  in!<upportable, — 
my  courage  will  not  go  so  far.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  was  proud  of  my  courage ;  and  sometimss, 
when  contemplating  on  the  ills  that  man  could  do 
me,  on  the  fate  whirh  destiny  could  reserve  for  me, 
I  fixed  my  eyes  steadfastly  on  the  most  unheard-of 
misfortunes  without  a  frown,  without  alarm  j — 
but  now  the  idea  that  my  Josephine  may  be  ui>- 
well,  the  idea  that  she  may  be  ill,  and,  above  all, 
the  cruel,  the  fatal  thought,  that  .«he  may  love  me 
less,  withers  ray  soul,  stii;  s  my  blood,  renders  me 
sad,  cast  down,  and  leaves  me  not  even  the  cour- 
age of  fury  and  despair.  Formerly  I  used  ofloo 
to  say  to  myself,  men  could  not  hurt  him  who 
could  die  without  regret ;  but,  now,  to  die  without 
being  loved  by  thee,  to  die  without  that  certainty, 
is  the  torment  of  hell  ;  it  is  the  lively  and  striking 
image  of  absolute  annihilation — I  feel  »«  if  I  wer« 
stifled.     My  inconipar.tblc  companion,  thou  wIkUK 


When  peace  returns,  it  brings  back  the 
domestic  affections,  and  affords  the  means 
of  indulging  them.  Buonaparte  v.as  yet  a 
bridegroom,  though  he  had  now  been  two 
years  married,  tind  upwards.  A  part  of  his 
correspondence  v/ith  his  bride  has  been 
preserved,*  and  gives  a  curious  picture  of 


*  It  is  published  in  a  Tour  through  the  Nether- 
lands, Holland,  Germany,  Switzerland,  Savoy,  and 
France,  in  the  years  1821-2,  by  Charles  Tennant, 
Esq  Longman  &  Co.  London,  2  v*ls.  8vo.  Au- 
tographs of  the  etters  are  given,  and  there  seems 
lio  reason  to  doubt  their  authenticity.  The  fol- 
lowing may  serve  as  a  specimen,  and  will  perhaps 
confirm  the  opinion  of  a  great  lawyer,  that  love- 
letters  seem  the  most  unutterable  nonsense  in  the 
world  to  all  but  the  person  who  writes,  and  the 
party  who  receives  them  : — 

"  By  v.hat  art  is  it  that  you  have  been  able  to 
captivate  all  my  faculties,  and  to  concentrate  in 
yourself  my  moral  existence.'  It  is  a  magic,  my 
sweet  lov«,  which  will  finish  only  with  my  life. 
To  live  for  Josephine — there  is  the  history  of  my 
Ufe.  I  am  trying  to  reach  you, — I  am  dying  to  be 
near  you  Fool  that  I  am,  I  do  not  perceive  that 
I  increa«e  the  distance  between  us.  What  lands, 
what  countries  separate  us  !  What  a  time  before 
yon  read  these  weak  exorcssions  of  a  troubled 


Chap.  XXVm.]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


273 


not  quote)  it  carries  a  tone  of  indelicacy, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  intimacy  of  the 
married  state,  an  English  husband  would 
not  use,  nor  an  English  wife  coTisider  as 
the  becoming  expression  of  connubial  af- 
fection. There  seems  no  doubt,  however, 
that  the  attachment  which  these  letters  in- 
dicate was  perfectly  sincere,  and  on  one 
occasion  at  least,  it  was  chivalrously  ex- 
pressed : — "  Wurmser  shall  buy  dearly  the 
tears  which  he  makes  you  shed  !'' 

It  appears  from  this  correspondence  that 
Josephine  had  rejoined  her  husband  under 
the  guardianship  of  Junot.  when  he  returned 
from  Paris,  after  having  executed  his  mis- 
eion  of  delivering  to  the  Directory,  and 
representatives  of  the  French  people,  the 
banners  and  colours  taken  from  Beaulieu. 
In  December  1796,  Josephine  was  at  Genoa, 
where  she  was  received  with  studied  mag- 
nificence, by  those  in  that  ancient  state  who 
adhered  to  the  French  interest,  and  where, 
to  the  scandal  of  the  rigid  Catholics,  the 
company  continued  assembled,  at  a  ball 
given  by  Monsieur  de  Scrva,  till  a  late  hour 
on  Friday  morning,  despite  the  presence  of 
a  senator  having  in  his  pocket,  bat  not  ven- 
turing to  enforce,  a  decree  of  the  senate  for 
the  better  observation  of  the  fast  day  upon 
tlie  occasion.  These,  however,  were  prob- 
ably only  occasional  visits ;  but  after  the 
signature  of  the  treaty  of  Leoben,  and  dur- 
ing the  various  negotiations  which  took 
place  before  it  was  finally  adjusted,  as  rat- 
ified at  Campo  Formio,  Josephine  lived  in 
domestic  society  with  her  husband,  at  the 
beautiful  seat,  or  rather  palace,  of  Monte- 
bello. 

This  villa,  celebrated  from  the  impor- 
tant negotiations  of  which  it  was  the  scene, 
is  situated  a  few  leagues  from  Milan,  on  a 
gently  sloping  hill,  which  commands  an 
extensive  prospect  over  the  fertile  plains 
of  Lombardy.  The  ladies  of  the  highest 
rank,  as  well  as  those  celebrated  for  beauty 
and  accomplishments, — all,  in  short,  who 
could  add  charms  to  society, — were  daily 
paying  thei"-  homage  to  Josephine,  who  rp- 
ceived  them  with  a  felicity  of  address  which 
seemed  as  if  she  had  been  born  for  exer- 
cising the  high  courtesies  that  devolved 
upon  the  wife  of  so  distinguished  a  person 
as  Napoleon, 

Negotiations  proceeded  amid  gaiety  and 

ftite  has  destined  tc  make  along  with  rae  the  pain- 
ful journey  of  life,  the  day  on  which  I  shall  cea^i^ 
to  possess  thy  heart  will  bo  the  day  on  which 
panhed  nature  will  be  to  liie  without  warmth  or 
vegetation 

"  I  stop,  my  sweet  love,  my  soul  is  sad — my  body 
is  fatigued — my  head  is  giddy — men  disgust  me — I 
ought  to  hate  them — they  separate  me  from  my 
be  loved 

"  I  am  at  Port  Maurice,  near  Oneillc  ;  to-nmr- 
row  I  shall  be  at  Albenga  ;  the  two  armie<  are  in 
motion — We  are  endeavouring  to  deceive  each 
oth«r — Victory  to  the  most  skilful  I  lam  pretty 
well  satisfied  with  Beaulieu — If  lie  alarm  me  much 
be  is  a  better  man  than  his  predecessor.  I  shall 
beat  him  I  hope  in  good  style.  Do  nut  be  uneasy 
— love  me  as  your  eye;; — hut  that  i^!  not  enough — 
as  yourself,  more  than  yours/.lf,  than  your  thouglit, 
your  mind,  your  sight,  your  all.-^woct  love, 
forgive  me, — I  am  sinking.  Nature  is  weak  for 
bin  who  feels  strongly,  for  liim  whim  Viiu  love  t" 

Vot-.  I .  M  u; 


pleasure.    The  various  ministers  and  en- 
I  voys  of  Austria,  of  the  Pope,  of  the  Kings 
of  Naples  and   Sardinia,  of  the  Duke   of 
I  Parma,  of  the  Swiss  Cantons,  of  several  of 
i  the  Princes   of  Germany, — the  throng  of 
,  generals,  of  persons  in  authority,  of  de^iu- 
i  ties  of  towns, — with  the  daily  arrivals  and 
1  despatch  of  numerous  couriers,  the  bustle 
;  of  important  business,  mingled  with  fetes 
I  and   entertainments,   with  balls   and   with 
hunting  parties, — gave   the    picture    of    a 
splendid   court,   and   the    assemblage   was 
called    accordingly,    by   the   Italians,  the 
Court  of  Montebeilo.     It  was  such  in  point 
!  of  importance  ;  for  the  deliberations  agitit- 
j  ed  there  were  to  regulate  the  political  re- 
lations of  Germany,  and  decide  the  fate  of 
I  the  King  of  Sardinia,  of  Switzerland,  of  Ve 
nice,  of  Genoa  ;  all  destined  to  hear  from 
the  voice  of  Napoleon,  the  terras  on  which 
their  national  existence  was  to  be  prolong- 
ed or  terminated. 

Montebeilo  was  not  less  the  abode  of 
pleasure.  The  sovereigns  of  this  diplomat- 
ic and  military  court  made  excursions  to 
the  Lago  Maggiore,  to  Lago  di  Como,  to  the 
Borromean  islands,  and  occupied  at  pleas- 
ure the  villas  which  surround  those  deli 
cious  regions.  Every  town,  every  village, 
desired  to  distinguish  itself  by  some  pecul- 
iar mark  of  homage  and  respect  to  him, 
whom  they  then  named  the  Liberator  of 
Italy.  These  expressions  are  in  a  great 
measwre  those  of  Napoleon  himself,  who 
seems  to  have  looked  back  on  this  period 
of  his  life  with  warmer  recollections  of 
pleasurable  enjoyment  than  he  had  experi- 
enced on  any  other  occasion. 

It  was  probably  the  happiest  time  of  hi^ 
life.  Honour,  beyond  that  of  a  crowned 
head,  was  his  own,  and  had  the  full  relish 
of  novelty  to  a  mind  which  two  or  three 
years  before  was  pining  in  obscurity.  Pow- 
er was  his,  and  he  had  not  experienced  its 
cares  and  risks  5  high  hopes  were  formed  of 
him  by  all  around,  and  he  had  not  yet  dis- 
appointed them.  He  was  in  the  flower  of 
youth,  and  married  to  the  woman  o*"  his 
heart.  Above  all,  he  had  the  glow  of  Hope, 
which  was  marshalling  him  even  to  more 
exalted  dominion  ;  and  he  had  not  yet  be- 
come av.  are  that  possession  brings  satiety  ; 
and  that  all  earthly  desires  and  wishes  ter- 
minate, when  fully  attained,  in  vanity  ;ind 
vexation  of  spirit. 

The  various  objects  which  occupitd 
Buonaparte's  mind  during  this  busy  yrt 
pleasing  interval,  were  the  affaurs  of  Genoa, 
of  Sardinia,  of  Naples,  of  the  Cisalpine 
Republic,  of  the  Orisons,  and  lastly,  and  by 
far  the  most  important  of  them,  the  defini- 
tive treaty  with  Austria,  which  involved  the 
annihilation  of  Venice  as  an  independent 
state. 

Genoa,  the  proud  rival  of  Venice,  had 
never  attained  the  same  permanent  impor- 
tance with  that  sister  republic  ;  but  her  n"- 
bitity,who  still  administered  her  gove.Ti- 
I  menl  according  to  the  model  assigned  them 
:  by  Andrfw  Doria,  preserved  more  national 
,  spirit,  and  a  more  warlike  disposition.    The 
1  neighbourhood  of  France,   and  the  prev:i- 
'  icnce  of  her  opinions,  had  stirred  up  omony 


274 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE       [Chap.  XXVIU. 


the  citizens  of  the  middling  class  a  party, 
taking  the  name  of  Morandists,  from  a  club 
so  termed,  whose  object  it  was  to  break 
down  the  oligarchy,  and  revolutionize  the 
government.  The  nobles  were  naturally 
opposed  to  this,  and  a  large  body  of  the 
popnlace,  much  employed  by  them,  and 
strict  catholics,  were  ready  to  second  them 
in  their  defence. 

The  establishment  of  two  Italian  democ- 
racies upon  the  Po,  made  the  Genoese  rev- 
olutionists conceive  the  time  was  arrived 
when  their  own  state  ought  to  pass  through 
a  similar  ordeal  of  regeneration.  They 
mustered  their  strength,  and  petitioned  the 
Doge  for  the  abolition  of  the  government 
as  it  existed,  and  the  adoption  of  a  demo- 
cratic model.  The  Doge  condescended  so 
far  to  their  demand,  as  to  name  a  commit- 
tee of  nine  persons,  five  of  them  of  plebe- 
ian birth,  to  consider  and  report  on  the 
means  of  infusing  a  more  popular  spirit  in- 
to the  constitution. 

The  three  chief  Inquisitors  of  State,  or 
Censors,  as  the  actual  rulers  of  the  oligar- 
chy were  entitled,  opposed  the  spirit  of  re- 
ligious enthusiasm  to  that  of  democratic 
zeal.  They  employed  the  pulpit  and  the 
confessional  as  the  means  of  warning  good 
Catholics  against  the  change  demanded  by 
the  Morandists — they  exposed  the  Holy  Sa- 
crament, and  made  processions  and  public 
prayers,  as  if  threatened  with  a  descent  of 
the  Algerines. 

Meanwhile  the  Morandists  took  up  arms, 
displayed  the  French  colours,  and  conceiv- 
ing their  enterprise  was  on  the  point  of 
success,  seized  the  gate  of  the  arsenal  and 
that  of  the  harbour.  But  their  triumph  was 
short.  Ten  thousand  armed  labourers  start- 
ed as  from  out  of  the  earth,  under  the  com- 
mand of  their  syndics,  or  municipal  offi- 
cers, with  cries  of  "  Viva  Maria !"  and 
declared  for  the  aristocracy.  The  insur- 
gents, totally  defeated,  were  compelled  to 
shut  themselves  up  in  their  houses,  where 
they  were  assailed  by  the  stronger  party, 
and  finally  routed.  The  French  residing 
in  Genoa  were  maltreated  by  the  prevailing 
party,  their  houses  pillaged,  and  they  them- 
selves dragged  to  prison. 

The  last  circumstance  gave  Buonaparte 
an  ostensible  right  to  interfere,  which  he 
would  probably  have  done  even  had  no 
such  violence  been  committed.  He  sent 
his  aid-de-camp  La  Vallette  to  Genoa,  with 
the  threat  of  instantly  moving  against  the 
city  a  division  of  his  army,  unless  the  pris- 
oners were  set  at  liberty,  the  aristocratic 
party  disarmed,  and  such  alterations,  or 
rather  such  a  complete  change  of  govern- 
ment adopted,  as  should  be  agreeable  to 
the  French  commander-in-chief.  Against 
this  there  was  no  appeal.  The  Inquisitors 
were  laid  under  arrest,  for  having  defended 
with  the  assistance  of  their  fellow-citizens, 
the  existing  institutions  of  the  state  :  and 
the  Doge,  with  two  other  magistrates  of  the 
first  rank,  went  to  learn  at  Montebello,  the 
head-quarters  of  Napoleon,  what  was  to  be 
the  future  fate  of  the  city,  proudly  called 
of  Palaces.  They  received  the  outlines  of 
eoch  a  democracy  as  Napoleon  conceived 


suitable  for  them  ;  and  he  appears  to  have 
been  unusually  favourable  to  the  state, 
which,  according  to  the  French  affectation 
of  doing  everything  upon  a  classical  model, 
now  underwent  revolutionary  baptism,  and 
was  called  the  Ligurian  Republic.  It  was 
stipulated,  that  the  French  who  had  suffer- 
ed should  be  indemnified ;  but  no  contri- 
butions were  exacted  for  the  use  of  the 
French  army,  nor  did  the  collections  and 
cabinets  of  Genoa  pay  any  tribute  to  the 
Parisian  Museum. 

Shortly  after,  the  democratic  party  hav- 
ing gone  so  far  as  to  exclude  the  nobles 
from  the  government,  and  from  all  offices 
of  trust,  called  down  by  doing  so  a  severe 
admonition  from  Buonaparte.  He  charged 
them  not  to  offend  the  prejudices,  or  insult 
the  feelings  of  the  more  scrupulous  Catho- 
lics, declaring  farther,  that  to  exclude  those 
of  noble  birth  from  public  functions,  is  a 
revolting  piece  of  injustice,  and,  in  fact,  aa 
criminal  as  the  worst  of  the  errors  of  the 
patricians.  Buonaparte  says  he  felt  a  par- 
tiality for  Genoa ;  and  the  comparative  lib- 
erality with  which  he  treated  the  state  on 
this  occasion,  furnishes  a  good  proof  that 
he  did  so. 

The  King  of  Sardinia  had  been  prostrat- 
ed at  the  feet  of  France  by  the  armistice  of 
Cherasco,  which  concluded  Napoleon's  first 
campaign ;  and  that  sagacious  leader  had 
been  long  desirous  that  the  Director/ 
should  raise  the  royal  supplicant  (for  he 
could  be  termed  little  else)  into  some  sem- 
blance of  regal  dignity,  so  as  to  make  his 
power  available  as  an  ally.  Nay,  General 
Clarke  had,  5th  April  1797,  subscribed, 
with  the  representative  of  his  Sardinian 
Majesty,  a  treaty  offensive  and  defensive, 
by  which  Napoleon  expected  to  add  to  the 
arniy  under  his  command  four  thousand 
Sardinian  or  Piedmontese  infantry,  and  five 
hundred  cavalry ;  and  he  reckoned  much 
on  this  contingent,  in  case  of  the  war  being 
renewed  with  Austria.  But  the  Directory 
shifted  and  evaded  his  solicitations,  and 
declined  confirming  this  treaty,  probably 
because  they  considered  the  army  under 
his  command  as  already  sufficiently  strong, 
being,  as  the  soldiers  were,  so  devoted  to 
their  leader.  At  length,  however,  the  trea- 
ty was  ratified,  but  too  late  to  serve  Buona- 
parte's object. 

Naples,  whose  conduct  had  been  vacillat- 
ing and  insincere,  as  events  seemed  to 
promise  victory  or  threaten  defeat  to  the 
French  general,  experienced,  notwithstand- 
ing, when  he  was  in  the  height  of  triumph, 
the  benefit  of  his  powerful  intercession 
with  the  government,  and  retained  the  full 
advantage  secured  to  her  by  the  treaty  of 
Paris  of  10th  October  179G. 

A  most  important  subject  of  considera- 
tion remained  after  the  pacification  of  Italy, 
respecting  the  mode  in  which  the  new  re 
publics  were  to  be  governed,  and  the  ex- 
tent of  territory  which  should  be  assigned 
to  them.  On  this  subject  there  had  been 
long  discussions ;  and  as  there  was  much 
animosity  and  ancient  grudge  betwixt  some 
of  the  Italian  cities  and  provinces,  it  was 
no  very  easy  matter  to  convince  them,  that 


Chap.  XXVIII.]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


275 


their  true  interest  lay  in  as  many  of  them 
being  united  under  one  energetic  and  active 
government,  as  should  render  them  a  pow- 
er of  some  importance,  instead  of  being  di- 
vided as  heretofore  into  petty  states,  which 
could  not  offer  effectual  resistance  eyen  to 
invasion  on  the  part  of  a  power  of  the  sec- 
ond class,  much  more  if  attacked  by  France 
Or  Austria. 

The  formation  of  a  compact  and  inde- 
pendent state  in  the  north  of  Italy,  was 
what  Napoleon  had  much  at  heart.  But 
the  Cispadane  and  Transpadane  Republics 
were  alike  averse  to  a  union,  and  that  of 
Romagna  had  declined  on  its  part  a  junc- 
tion with  the  Cispadane  commonwealth, 
and  set  up  for  a  puny  and  feeble  indepen- 
dence, under  the  title  of  the  Emilian 
Republic.  Buonaparte  was  enabled  to 
overcome  these  grudgings  and  heart-burn- 
ings by  pointing  out  to  them  the  General 
Republic,  which  it  was  now  his  system  t» 
create,  as  being  destined  to  form  the  ker- 
nel of  a  state,  which  should  be  enlarged 
from  time  to  time  as  opportunities  offered, 
until  it  should  include  aJl  Italy  under  one 
single  government.  This  flattering  pros- 
pect, in  assigning  to  Italy,  though  at  some 
distant  date,  the  probability  of  forming  one 
great  country,  united  in  itself,  and  inde- 

Cendent  of  the  rest  of  Europe,  instead  of 
eing,  as  now,  parcelled  out  into  petty 
states,  naturally  overcame  all  the  local  dis- 
likes and  predilections  which  might  have 
prevented  the  union  of  the  Cispadane, 
Transpadane,  and  Emilian  Republics  into 
one,  and  that  important  measure  was  re- 
solved upon  accordingly. 

The  Cisalpine  Republic  was  the  name  fix- 
ed upon,  to  designate  the  united  common- 
wealth. The  French  would  more  willingly 
have  named  it,  with  respect  to  Paris,  the 
Transalpine  Republic  ;  but  that  would  have 
been  innovating  upon  the  ancient  title 
which  Rome  has  to  be  the  central  point, 
with  reference  to  which  all  other  parts  of 
Italy  assume  their  local  description.  It 
would  have  destroyed  all  classical  propriety, 
and  have  confused  historical  recollections, 
if,  what  had  hitherto  been  called  the  Ultra- 
montane side  of  the  Alps,  had,  to  gratify 
Parisian  vanity,  been  termed  the  Hither 
side  of  the  same  chain  of  mountains. 

The  constitution  assigned  to  the  Cisal- 
pine Republic,  was  the  same  which  the 
French  had  last  of  all  adopted,  in  what 
they  called  the  year  five,  having  a  Directo- 
ry of  executive  administrators,  and  two 
Councils.  They  were  installed  upon  the 
30th  of  June  1797.  Four  members  of  the 
Directory  were  named  by  Buonaparte,  and 
tlie  addition  of  a  fifth  was  promised  with  all 
convenient  speed.  On  the  14th  of  July 
following;  a  review  was  made  of  thirty 
thousand  national  guards.  The  fortresses 
of  Lombardy,  and  the  other  districts,  were 
delivered  up  to  the  local  authorities,  and 
the  French  army,  retiring  from  the  territo- 
ries of  the  new  republic,  took  up  canton- 
ments in  the  Venetian  states.  Proclama- 
tion had  already  been  made,  that  the  states 
belonging  to  the  Cisalpine  Republic  having 
been  acquired  by  France  by  the  right  of  con- 


quest, she  had  used  her  privilege  to  form 
them  into  their  present  free  and  independ- 
ent government,  which,  already  recognized 
by  the  Emperor  and  the  Directory,  could 
not  fail  to  be  acknowledged  within  a  short 
time  by  all  the  other  powers  of  Europe. 

Buonaparte  soon  after  showed  that  he 
was  serious  in  his  design  of  enlarging  the 
Cisalpine  Republic,  as  opportunity  could  be 
made  to  serve.  There  are  three  valleys, 
termed  the  Valteline  districts,  which  run 
down  from  the  Swiss  mountains  towards 
the  Lake  of  Como.  The  natives  of  the 
Valteline  are  about  one  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  souls.  They  speak  Italian,  and 
are  chiefly  of  the  Catholic  persuasion. 
These  valleys  were  at  this  period  the  sub- 
jects of  the  Swiss  Cantons,  called  the  Ori- 
sons, not  being  a  part  of  their  league,  or  en- 
joying any  of  their  privileges,  but  standing 
towards  the  Swiss  community,  generally 
and  individually,  in  the  rank  of  vassals  to 
sovereigns.  This  situation  of  thraldom  and 
dependence  was  hard  to  endure,  and  dishon- 
ourable in  itself  J  and  we  cannot  be  surpris- 
ed that,  when  the  nations  around  them  were 
called  upon  to  enjoy  liberty  and  indepen- 
dence, the  inhabitants  of  the  Valteline 
should  have  driven  their  Swiss  garrisons  out 
of  their  valleys,  adopted  the  symbol  of  Ital- 
ian freedom,  and  cairried  their  complaints 
against  the  oppression  of  their  German  and 
Protestant  masters  to  the  feet  of  Buonaparte. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Valteline  unques- 
tionably had  a  right  to  assert  their  natural 
liberty,  which  is  incapable  of  suffering  pre- 
scription ;  but  it  is  not  equally  clear  how 
the  French  could,  according  to  the  law  of 
nations,  claim  any  title  to  interfere  between 
them  and  the  Grisons,  with  whom,  as  well 
as  with  the  whole  Swiss  UnioB,  they  were 
in  profound  peace.  This  scruple  seems  to 
have  struck  Buonaparte's  own  mind.  He 
pretended,  however,  to  assume  that  the 
Milanese  government  had  a  right  to  inter- 
fere, and  his  mediation  was  so  far  recognis- 
ed, that  the  Grisons  pleaded  before  him  in 
answer  to  their  contumacious  vassals.  Buo- 
naparte gave  his  opinion,  by  advising  the 
canton  of  the  Grisons,  which  consists  of 
three  leagues,  to  admit  their  Valteline  sub- 
jects to  a  share  of  their  franchises,  in  the 
character  of  a  fourth  association.  The  mod- 
eration of  the  proposal  may  be  admitted  to 
excuse  the  irregularity  of  the  interference. 

The  representatives  of  the  Grey  League 
were,  notwithstanding,  profoundly  hurt  at  a 
proposal  which  went  to  make  their  vassals 
their  brother  freemen,  and  to  establish  the 
equality  of  the  Italian  serf,  who  drank  of 
the  Adda,  with  the  free-born  Switzer,  who 
quaffed  the  waters  of  the  Rhine.  As  they 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  proposal,  deserted 
his  tribunal,  and  endeavoured  to  find  sup- 
port at  Bern,  Paris,  Vienna,  and  elsewhere, 
Napoleon  resolved  to  proceed  against  them 
in  default  of  appearance  ;  and  declaring,  that 
as  the  Grisons  had  failed  to  appear  before 
him,  or  to  comply  with  his  injunctions,  by 
admitting  the  people  of  the  Valteline  to  be 
parties  to  their  league,  he  therefore  adjudg- 
ed the  state,  or  district,  of  the  Valteline,  in 
time  coming,  to  belong  to  and  be  pvt  ef 


27« 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.     IChap.  XXVm. 


the  Cisalpine  republic.  The  Grisons  in 
▼ain  humbled  themselves  when  it  was  too 
late,  and  protested  their  readiness  to  plead 
before  a  mediator  too  powerful  to  be  de- 
clined under  any  ground  known  in  law ;  and 
the  Valteline  territory  was  adjudged  inalien- 
ably annexed  to,  and  united  with  Lombar- 
Ay,  of  which,  doubtless,  it  forms,  from  man- 
ners and  contiguity,  a  natural  portion. 

The  existence  of  a  state  having  free  in- 
stitutions, however  imperfect,  seemed  to 
vrork  an  almost  instant  amelioration  on  the 
character  of  the  people  of  the  north  of  Ita- 
ly. The  effeminacy  and  trifling  habits  which 
resigned  all  the  period  of  youth  to  intrigue 
and  amusement,  began  to  give  place  to  firm- 
-er  and  more  manly  vi^-tues — to  the  desire 
of  honourable  minds  to  distinguish  them- 
selves in  arts  and  arms.  Buonaparte  had 
himself  said,  that  twenty  years  would  be 
necessary  to  work  a  radical  change  on  the 
national  character  of  the  Italians ;  but  even 
already  those  seeds  were  sown,  among  a 
people  hitherto  frivolous  because  excluded 
from  public  business,  and  timorous  because 
they  were  not  permitted  the  use  of  arms, 
-which  afterwards  made  the  Italians  of  the 
north  equal  the  French  themselves  in  brav- 
ing the  terrors  of  war,  besides  producing 
several  civil  characters  of  eminence. 

Amid  those  subordinate  discussions,  as 
they  might  be  termed,  in  comparison  to  the 
negotiations  betwixt  Austria  and  France, 
these  two  high  contracting  parties  found 
great  difficulty  in  agreeing  as  to  the  pacific 
superstructure  which  they  should  build  up- 
on the  foundation  which  had  been  laid  by 
tiie  preliminaries  exchanged  at  Leoben. 
Nay,  it  seemed  as  if  some  of  the  principal 
stipulations,  which  had  been  there  agreed 
upon  as  the  corner-stones  of  their  treaty, 
were  even  already  beginning  to  be  un- 
settled. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that,  in  exchange 
for  the  cession  of  Flanders,  and  of  all  the 
countries  on  the  left  side  of  the  Rhine,  in- 
cluding the  strong  city  of  Mayence,  which 
she  was  to  yield  up  to  France  in  perpetui- 
ty, Austria  stipulated  an  indemnification  on 
tome  other  frontier.  The  original  project 
bore,  that  the  Lombardic  Republic,  sirce 
termed  the  Cisalpine,  should  have  all  the 
territories  extending  from  Piedmont,  east- 
ward to  the  river  Oglio.  Those  to  the 
eastward  of  that  river  were  to  be  ceded  to 
Austria,  as  an  equivalent  for  the  cession  of 
Belgium,  and  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine. 
The  Oglio,  rising  in  the  Alps,  descends 
through  the  fertile  districts  of  Brescia  and 
Cremasco,  and  falls  into  the  Po  near  Borgo- 
forte,  inclosing  Mantua  on  its  left  bank, 
which  strong  fortress,  the  citadel  of  Italy, 
was,  by  this  .lUocation,  to  be  restored  to 
Austria.  There  were  farther  compensations 
assigned  to  the  Emperor,  by  the  prelimina- 
ries of  Leoben.  Venice  was  to  be  depriv- 
ed of  her  territories  on  the  mainland,  which 
were  to  be  confiscated  to  augment  the  in- 
demnity destined  for  tlie  empire  ;  and  this, 
although  Venice,  as  far  as  Buonaparte  yet 
knew,  had  been  faithful  to  the  neutrality  she 
had  adopted.  To  redeem  this  piece  of  in- 
justice, another  wMto  be  perpetrated.  The 


state  of  Venice  was  to  receive  the  legation* 
of  Bologna,  Ferrara,  and  Romagna,  in  lieil 
of  the  dominions  which  she  was  to  cede  to 
Austria;  and  these  legations,  it  must  not 
be  forgotten,  were  the  principal  materials 
of  the  Transpadane  Republic,  founded  by 
Buonaparte  himself.  These,  however,  with 
their  population,  which  he  had  led  to  hop« 
for  a  free  popular  government,  he  was  now 
about  to  turn  over  to  the  dominion  of  Ve- 
nice, the  most  jealous  oligarchy  in  the 
world,  which  was  not  likely  to  forgive  those 
who  had  been  forward  in  expressing  a  de- 
sire of  freedom.  This  was  the  first  concoc- 
tion of  the  treaty  of  Leoben,  from  which 
it  appears  that  the  negotiators  of  the  two 
great  powers  regarded  the  secondary  and 
weaker  states,  whether  ancient  or  of  mod- 
ern erection,  merely  as  make-weights,  to  be 
thrown  into  either  scale,  as  might  be  neces- 
sary to  adjust  the  balance. 

It  is  true  the  infant  Cispadane  Republic 
escaped  the  fate  to  which  its  patron  and 
founder  was  about  to  resign  it ;  for,  after 
this  arrangement  bad  been  provisionally 
adjusted,  news  came  of  the  insurrection  of 
Venice,  the  attack  upon  the  French  through 
her  whole  territory,  and  the  massacre  at 
Verona.  This  aggression  placed  the  an- 
cient Republic,  so  far  as  France  was  con- 
cerned, in  the  light  of  a  hostile  power,  and 
entitled  Buonaparte  to  deal  with  her  as  a 
conquered  one,  perhaps  to  divide,  or  alto- 
gether to  annihilate  her.  But  on  the  other 
hand,  he  had  received  their  submission,  rat- 
ified the  establishment  of  their  new  popu- 
lar constitution,  and  possessed  himself  of 
the  city,  under  pretence  of  assigning  it  a 
free  government,  according  to  the  general 
hope  which  he  had  held  out  to  Italy  at 
large.  The  right  of  conquest  was  limited 
by  the  terms  on  which  surrender  had  been 
accepted.  Austria  on  the  other  hand,  was 
the  more  deeply  bound  to  have  protected 
the  ancient  republic,  for  it  was  in  her  cause 
that  Venice  so  rashly  assumed  arms ;  but 
such  is  the  gratitude  of  nations,  such  the 
faith  of  politicians,  that  she  appears  from 
the  beginning,  to  have  had  no  scruple  in 
profiting  by  the  spoils  of  an  ally,  who  had 
received  a  death-wound  in  her  cause. 

By  the  time  the  negotiators  met  for  final- 
ly discussing  the  preliminaries,  the  Directo- 
ry of  France,  either  to  thwart  Buonaparte, 
v/hose  superiority  became  too  visible,  or 
because  tney  actually  entertained  the  fears 
they  expressed,  were  determined  that  Man- 
tua, which  had  been  taken  with  such  diffi- 
culty, should  remain  the  bulwark  of  the 
Cisalpine  Republic,  instead  of  returning  to 
be  once  more  that  of  the  Austrian  territo- 
ries in  Italy.  The  Imperial  plenipotentia- 
ries insisted,  on  the  other  hand,  that  Man- 
tua was  absolutely  necessary  to  the  safety 
of  their  Italian  possessions,  and  became 
more  so  from  the  peculiar  character  of 
their  new  neighbour,  the  Cisalpine  Repub- 
lic, whose  example  was  likely  to  be  so  per- 
ilous to  the  adjacent  dependencies  of  aa 
ancient  monarchy.  To  get  over  this  diffi- 
culty, the  French  general  proposed  that 
the  remaining  dominions  of  Venice  should 
be  also  divided  betwixt  Austria  and  Frans* 


Chap.  XXVIII]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


277 


the  latter  obtaining  possession  of  the  Alba- 
nian territories  and  the  Ionian  islands  be- 
longing to  the  republic,  of  which  the  high 
contracting  powers  signed  Ithe  death-war- 
rant;  while  Istria,  Dalmatia,  \'enice  her- 
self, and  all  her  other  dominions,  should 
be  appTopriated  to  Austria.  The  latter 
power,  through  her  minister,  consented  to 
this  arrangement  with  as  little  scruple,  as 
to  the  former  appropriation  of  her  forlorn 
ally's  possessions  on  the  Terra  Firma. 

But  as  fast  as  obstacles  were  removed 
on  one  side,  they  appeared  to  start  up  on 
another,  and  a  sort  of  pause  ensued  in  the 
deliberations,  which  neither  party  seemed 
to  wish  to  push  to  a  close.  In  fact,  both 
Napoleon,  plenipotentiary  for  France,  and 
Count  Cobentzel,  a  man  of  great  diplomat- 
ic skill  and  address,  who  took  the  principal 
manaigement  on  the  part  of  Austria,  were 
sufficiently  aware  that  the  French  govern- 
ment, long  disunited,  was  in  the  act  of 
approaching  to  a  crisis.  This  accordingly 
took  place,  under  circumstances  to  be  here- 
after noticed,  on  18th  Fructidor,  creating 
by  a  new  revolutionary  movement,  a  total 
change  of  administration.  When  this  rev- 
olution was  accomplished,  the  Directory, 
who  accomplished  it,  feeling  themselves 
more  strong,  appeared  to  lay  aside  the  idea 
of  peace,  and  showed  a  strong  disposition 
to  push  their  advantages  to  the  utmost. 

Buonaparte  was  opposed  to  this.  He 
knew  that  if  war  was  resumed,  the  difficul- 
ties of  the  campaign  would  be  thrown  on 
Lim,  and  the  blame  also,  if  the  results  were 
not  happy.  He  was  determined,  therefore, 
in  virtue  of  his  full  powers,  to  bring  the 
matter  to  a  conclusion,  whether  the  Direc- 
tory would  or  not.  For  this  purpose  he 
confronted  Cobentzel,  who  still  saw  his 
game  in  gaining  delay,  with  the  sternness 
of  a  military  envoy.  On  the  16th  October, 
the  conferences  were  renewed  upon  the 
former  grounds,  and  Cobentzel  went  over 
the  whole  subject  of  the  indemnifications, 
insisting  that  Mantua,  and  the  line  of  the 
Adige,  should  be  granted  to  the  Emperor, 
threatening  to  bring  down  the  Russians  in 
case  the  war  should  be  renewed,  and  insin- 
uating that  Buonaparte  sacrificed  the  desire 
of  peace  to  his  military  fame,  and  desired 
a  renewal  of  the  war.  Napoleon,  with  stern 
but  restrained  indignation,  took  from  a 
bracket  an  ornamental  piece  of  china,  on 
which  Cobentzel  set  some  value,  as  being  a 
present  from  the  Empress  Catharine.  "The 
truce,'' he  said,'"  is  then  ended,  and  war 
declared.  But  beware — I  will  break  your 
empire  into  as  many  fragments  as  that  pot- 
sherd." He  dashed  the  piece  of  china 
against  the  hearth,  and  withdrew  abruptly. 
Again  we  are  reminded  of  the  .\rgantes  of 
Tasso.* 

The  Austrian  plenipotentiarip.-:  no  long- 
er hesitated  to  submit  to  all  Napoleon's  de- 
mands, rather  than  again  sec  him  com- 
mence his  tremendous  career  of  irresistible 

*8piegd  quel  crudo  il  «pno,e'l  manto  scoiise, 
Ed  a.  guerta  mortal,  di33e,  vi  9(ido  , 
E'l  disse  in  atto  si  feroce  ed  empio 
Om  parve  aprir  di  Giano  il  chiusolcmpio. 

La  OerusaltmjHC  Lilim'**-  CaiUa  II. 


j  invasion.  The  treaty  of  Campo  Formio 
I  therefore  was  signed  ;  not  the  less  prompt- 
'  ly.  perhaps,  that  the  affairs  at  Paris  appear- 
ed so  doubtful  as  to  invite  an  ambitious  and 
aspiring  man  like  Napoleon  to  approach  the 
scene  where  honours  and  power  were  dia- 
tributed,  and  where  jarring  factions  seemed 
to  await  the  influence  of  a  character  so  dis- 
tinguished and  so  determined. 

The  fate  of  Venice,  more  from  her  an- 
cient history  than  either  the  vaiue  of  her 
institutions,  which  were  execrable,  or  the 
importance  of  her  late  existence,  still  dwells 
somewhat  on  the  memory.  The  ancient 
republic  fell  •'  as  a  fool  dieth."  The  aris- 
tocrats cursed  the  selfishness  of  Austria,  by 
whom  they  were  swallowed  up,  though 
they  had  perilled  themselves  in  her  cause. 
The  republicans  hastened  to  escape  from 
Austrian  domination,  grinding  their  teeth 
with  rage,  and  cursing  no  less  the  egotistic 
policy  of  the  French,  who,  making  a  con- 
venient pretext  of  their  interest,  had  pre- 
tended to  assign  them  a  free  constitution, 
and  then  resigned  them  to  become  the  vas- 
sals of  a  despotic  government. 

The  French  secretary  of  legation,  who 
had  played  a  remarkably  active  part  during 
the  Revolution,  hazarded  a  remonstrance  to 
Buonaparte  on  the  surrender  of  Venice  to 
.\ustria,  instead  of  its  being  formed  into  a 
free  democracy,  or  united  with  the  Cis- 
alpine republic.  Buonaparte  laughed  to 
scorn  a  man,  whose  views  were  still  fixed 
on  diffusing  and  propagating  the  principles 
of  Jacobinism.  "  I  have  received  your  let- 
ter," was  the  stern  and  contemptuous  re- 
ply, '•■  and  cannot  comprehend  it.  The  Re- 
public of  France  is  not  bound  by  any  treaty, 
to  sacrifice  its  interests  and  advantages  to 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  in  Venice, 
or  to  any  other  class  of  individuals.  France 
does  not  make  war  in  behalf  and  for  the 
benefit  of  others.*  I  know  it  costs  nothing 
for  a  few  chattering  declaimers,  whom  I 
might  better  describe  as  madmen,  to  talk 
of  an  universal  republic — I  wish  they  would 
tr}-  a  winter  campaign.  The  Venetian  Re- 
public exists  no  longer.  Effeminate,  cor- 
rupted, treacherous,  and  hypocritical,  the 
\'enetians  are  unfit  for  liberty.  If  she  has 
the  spirit  to  appreciate,  or  courage  to  assert 
it,  the  time  is  not  unfavourable — let  her 
stand  up  for  it.''  Thus,  with  insult  added 
to  misery,  and  great  contempt  thrown  by 
Napoleon  on  the  friends  of  liberty  all  over 
the  world,  the  fate  of  Venice  was  closed. 
The  most  remarkable  incident  of  the  final 
transfer  to  the  Austrians  was,  that  the  aged 
Doge  Marini  dropt  down  senseless  as  he 
was  about  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
the  Imperial  commissioner,  and  died  short- 
ly after. 

Napoleon  Buonaparte  had  now  finished 
for  the  present  his  career  of  destiny  in  It- 

*  The  language  of  inju.nice  is  alike  in  similar 
instances.  When  Edward  I.,  in  the  course  of 
over-running  Scotland,  was  reminded  of  the  claira» 
of  the  candidate  for  the  throne,  in  whose  cause  he 
had  pretended  to  take  arms,  he  answered  ia  the 
very  wordg  of  Buonaparte, — "  Have  we  nothinf 
else  to  do  but  to  conquer  kiojfdonu  for  otber  peo 


278 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chtq).  XXIX. 


aly,  which  country  first  saw  his  rising  tal- 
ents, and  was  always  a  subject  of  peculiar 
interest  to  him.  He  took  an  affecting  leave 
of  the  soldiers,  who  could  scarce  hope  ever 
to  see  him  replaced  by  a  general  of  merits 
BO  transcendant,  and  made  a  moderate  and 
judicious  address  to  the  Cisalpine  Repub- 
lic. Finally,  he  departed,  to  return  through 
Switzerland  to  Rastadt,  where  a  congress 
was  sitting  for  the  settlement  and  pacifica- 
tion of  the  German  empire,  and  where  he 
was  to  act  as  a  plenipotentiary  on  the  part 
of  France. 

On  the  journey  he  was  observed  to  be 
moody  and  deeply  contemplative.  The  se- 
paration -from  a  hundred  thousand  men 
whom  he  might  call  his  own,  and  the  un- 


certainty of  the  future  destinies  to  which 
he  might  be  summoned,  are  enough  to  ac- 
count for  this,  without  supposing,  as  some 
have  done,  that  he  already  had  distinctly 
formed  any  of  those  projects  of  ambition 
which  Time  opened  to  him.  Doubtless, 
however,  his  ardent  ambition  showed  hira 
remote  and  undefined  visions  of  greatness. 
He  could  not  but  be  sensible  that  he  re- 
turned to  the  capital  of  P'rance  in  a  situa- 
tion which  scarce  admitted  of  any  medioc- 
rity. He  must  either  be  raised  to  a  yet 
more  distinguished  height,  or  altogether 
broken  down,  levelled  with  the  mass  of 
subjects,  and  consigned  to  comparative  ob- 
scurity. Thfere  was  no  middle  station  for 
the  Conqueror  and  Liberator  of  Italy 


CHAP.  XXIZ. 

Retrospect. —  The  Directory — they  become  unpopular. — Causes  of  their  unpopularity — 
Also  at  enmity  among  themselves. — State  of  public  feeling  in  France — In  point  of 
numbers,  favourable  to  the  Bourbons  ;  but  the  Army  and  monied  Interest  against  them. 
— Pichegru,  head  of  the  Royalists,  appointed  President  of  the  Council  of  Five  Hun- 
dred.— Barbe  Marbois,  another  Royalist,  President  of  the  Council  of  Ancients. — 
Directory  throw  themselves  upon  the  succour  of  Hoche  and  Buonaparte. — Buona- 
parte's  personal  Politics  discussed. — Pichegru's  Correspondence  with  the  Bourbons — 
Known  to  Buonaparte — He  despatches  Augereau  to  Paris. — Directory  arrest  their 
principal  Opponents  in  the  Coimcils  on  the  ISth  Fructidor,  and  banish  them  to  Guia- 
na.— Narrow  and  impolitic  Conduct  of  the  Directory  to  Buonaparte. —  Projected  In- 
vasion of  England. 

While  the  Conqueror  of  Italy  was  pursu- 
ing his  victories  beyond  the  Alps,  the 
French  Directory,  in  whose  name  he  achiev- 
ed them,  had  become,  to  the  conviction  of 
all  men,  as  unlikely  to  produce  the  benefits 
of  a  settled  government,  as  any  of  their 
predecessors  vested  with  the  supreme  rule. 
It  is  with  politics  as  with  mechanics,  in- 
genuity is  not  always  combined  with  utility, 
borne  one  observed  to  the  late  celebrated 
Mr.  Watt,  that  it  was  wonderful  for  what  a 
number  of  useless  inventions,  illustrated  by 
the  most  ingenious  and  apparently  satisfac- 
tory models,  patents  were  yearly  issued ; 
he  replied,  that  he  had  often  looked  at  them 
with  interest,  and  had  found  several,  the 
idea  of  which  had  occurred  to  himself  in 
the  course  of  his  early  studies.  "  But," 
said  he,  with  his  natural  masculine  sagaci- 
ty, "  it  is  one  thing  to  make  an  ingenious 
model,  and  another  to  contrive  an  engine 
which  shall  work  its  task.  Most  of  these 
pretty  toys,  when  they  are  applied  to  prac- 
tical purposes,  are  found  deficient  in  some 
point  of  strength,  or  correctness  of  me- 
chanism, which  destroys  all  chance  of  their 
ever  becoming  long  or  generally  useful." 
Some  such  imperfection  seems  to  have  at- 
tended the  works  of  those  speculative  po- 
liticians who  framed  the  various  ephemeral 
constitutions  of  France.  However  well 
they  looked  upon  paper,  and  however  rea- 
eonable  they  sounded  to  the  ear,  no  one 
ever  thought  of  them  as  laws  which  requir- 
ed veneration  and  obedience.  Did  a  con- 
stitutional rule  preclude  a  favourite  meas- 
ure, to  break  it  down,  or  leap  over  it,  was 
the  French  statesman's  unhesitating  prac- 
l»ce.    A  ruje  was  always  devised  applicable 


to  circumstances  ;  and  before  that,  the  the- 
ory of  the  constitution  was  uniformly  made 
to  give  way. 

The  constitution  of  the  year  Three  was 
not  more  permanent  than  those  by  which  it 
had  been  preceded.  For  some  time,  the 
Directory,  which  contained  men  of  consid- 
erable talent,  conducted  themselves  with 
great  prudence.  The  difficulty  and  danger 
of  their  situation  served  to  prevent  their 
separating,  as  the  weight  put  above  an  arch 
keeps  the  stones  in  their  places.  Their 
exertions  in  the  attempt  to  redeem  the  fi- 
nances, support  the  war,  and  re-establish 
the  tranquillity  of  the  country,  were  at- 
tended at  first  with  success.  The  national 
factions  also  sunk  before  them  for  a  season. 
They  had  defeated  the  aristocratic  citizens 
of  Paris  on  the  13th  Venderaaire  ;  and  when 
the  original  revolutionists,  or  democrats, 
attempted  a  conspiracy,  under  the  conduct 
of  Gracchus  Baboeuf,  their  endeavour  to  se- 
duce the  troops  totally  failed,  and  their 
lives  paid  the  forfeit  of  their  rash  attempt 
to  bring  back  the  reign  of  Terror.  Thus, 
the  Directory,  or  Executive  power,  under 
the  constitution  of  the  year  Three,  were 
for  a  season  triumphant  over  the  internal 
factions,  and,  belonging  to  neither,  were  in 
a  situation  to  command  both. 

But  they  had  few  who  were  really,  and 
on  principle,  attached  to  their  government, 
and  most  endured  it  only  as  something  bet- 
ter than  a  new  revolutionary  movement,  and 
otherwise  in  no  respect  eligible.  To  have 
rendered  their  authority  permanent,  the  Di- 
rectory must  have  had  great  unanimity  in 
their  own  body,  and  also  brilliant  success 
abroad,  and  they  enjoved  neither  one  nor 


Chap.  XXIX]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


279 


the  other.  The  very  concoction  of  their 
body  included  the  principles  of  disunion. 
They  were  a  3ort  of  five  kings,  retiring 
from  office  by  rotation,  inhabiting  each  his 
separate  class  of  apartments  in  the  Luxem- 
bourg palace,  having  each  his  different  es- 
taDlishments,  classes  of  clients,  circles  of 
courtiers,  flatterers,  and  instruments.  The 
republican  simplicity,  of  late  so  essential 
to  a  patriot,  was  laid  aside  entirely.  New 
costumes  of  the  most  splendid  kind  were 
devised  for  the  different  office-bearers  of 
the  state.  This  change  took  its  rise  from 
the  weakness  and  vanity  of  Barras,  who 
loved  show,  and  used  to  go  a-hunting  with 
all  the  formal  attendance  of  a  prince.  But 
it  was  an  indulgence  of  luxury,  which  gave 
scandal  to  both  the  great  parties  in  the 
state  ; — the  Pvepublicans,  who  held  it  alto- 
gether in  contempt;  and  the  Royalists,  who 
considered  it  as  an  usurpation  of  the  royal 
dress  and  appendages. 

The  finances  became  continually  more 
and  more  a  subject  of  uneasiness.  In  the 
days  of  Terror  money  was  easily  raised,  be- 
cause it  was  demanded  under  pain  of  death, 
and  assignats  were  raised  to  par  by  guillo- 
tining those  who  sold  or  bought  them  at  less 
than  their  full  value  ;  but  the  powerful  ar- 
gument of  violence  and  compulsion  being 
removed,  the  paper  money  fell  into  a  ruin- 
ous discount,  till  its  depression  threatened, 
unless  remedied,  altogether  to  stop  the 
course  of  public  business.  It  perhaps  arose 
from  the  difficulty  of  raising  supplies,  that 
the  Directory  assumed  towards  other  coun- 
tries a  greedy,  grasping,  and  rapacious  char- 
acter, which  threw  disgrace  at  once  upon 
the  individuals  who  indulged  it,  and  the 
state  whom  they  represented.  They  load- 
ed with  exactions  the  trade  of  the  Batavian 
republic,  whose  freedom  they  had  pretend- 
ed to  recognize,  and  treated  with  most 
haughty  superiority  the  ambassadors  of 
independent  states.  Some  of  these  high 
officers,  and  Barras  in  particular,  were  sup- 

Eosed  accessible  to  gross  corruption,  and 
elieved  to  hold  communication  with  those 
agents  and  stock-brokers,  who  raised  money 
by  jobbing  in  the  public  funds — a  more  de- 
servedly unpopular  accusation  than  which 
can  hardly  be  brought  against  a  minister. 
It  was  indeed  a  great  error  in  the  constitu- 
tion, that  though  one  hundred  thousand  li- 
vres  were  yearly  allowed  to  each  Director 
while  in  office,  yet  he  had  no  subsequent 
provision  after  he  had  retired  from  his  frac- 
tional share  of  sovereignty.  This  penury 
on  the  part  of  the  public,  opened  a  way  to 
temptation,  though  of  a  kind  to  which  mean 
minds  only  are  obnoxious;  and  such  men 
as  Barras  were  tempted  to  make  provision 
for  futurity,  by  availing  themselves  of  pres- 
ent opportunity. 

Their  five  majesties  (Sires)  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg, as  people  called  them  in  ridicule, 
had  also  their  own  individual  partialities 
and  favourite  objects,  which  led  them  in 
turn  to  teaze  the  French  people  with  un- 
necessary legislation.  I,a  Reveillere-Le- 
paux  was  that  inconsistent  yet  not  uncom- 
mon character,  an  intolerant  philosopher 
ud  an  enthusiastic  deist.     He  established  a 


priesthood,  and  hymns  and  ceremonies  for 
deism  ;  and,  taking  up  the  hopeful  project 
of  substituting  a  deistical  worship  for  tho 
Christian  faith,  just  where  Robespierre  had 
laid  it  down,  he  harassed  the  nation  with 
laws  to  oblige  them  to  observe  the  decades 
of  their  new  calendar  as  holidays,  and  to 
work  at  their  ordinary  trades  on  the  Chris- 
tian Sabbath.  At  La  Reveillere's  theory 
freethinkers  laughed,  and  religious  men 
shuddered ;  but  all  were  equally  annoyed 
by  the  legislative  measures  adopted  on  a 
subject  so  ridiculous  as  this  new  ritual  of 
heathenism.  Another  cause  of  vexation 
was  the  philosophical  arrangement  of 
weights  and  measures  upon  a  new  principle, 
which  had  in  the  meantime  the  inconven- 
ience of  introducing  doubt  and  uncertainty 
into  all  the  arrangements  of  internal  com- 
merce, and  deranging  entirely  such  as 
France  continued  to  hold  with  countries 
who  were  only  acquainted  with  the  ordina- 
ry standard. 

It  might  have  been  thought  that  the 
distinguished  success  of  the  French  arms 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Directory  would 
have  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  French,  at- 
tached as  they  have  always  been  to  mili- 
tary glory,  and  blinded  them  to  other  less 
agreeable  measures  of  their  government. 
But  the  public  were  well  aware,  that  the 
most  brilliant  share  of  these  laurels  had 
been  reaped  by  Buonaparte  on  his  own  ac- 
count ;  that  he  had  received  but  slender  re- 
inforcements from  France  (the  magnitude 
of  his  achievements  considered) ;  and  that 
in  regard  to  the  instructions  of  government, 
much  of  his  success  was  owing  to  his  de- 
parture from  them,  and  following  his  own 
course.  It  was  also  whispered,  that  he 
was  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  Directors, 
and  on  his  part  undervalued  their  talents, 
and  despised  their  persons.  On  the  Rhine, 
again,  though  nothing  could  have  been 
more  distinguished  than  the  behaviour  of 
the  Republican  armies,  yet  their  successes 
had  been  chequered  with  many  reverses, 
and,  contrasted  with  the  Italian  campaigns, 
lost  their  impression  on  the  imagination. 

While  they  were  thus  becoming  unpopu- 
lar in  the  public  opinion,  the  Directory  had 
the  great  misfortune  to  be  at  enmity  among 
themselves.  From  the  time  that  Letour- 
neur  retired  from  office  in  terms  of  the  con- 
stitution, and  Barthelemy  was  elected  in 
his  stead,  there  was  a  majority  and  an  op- 
position in  the  Directory,  the  former  con- 
sisting of  Barras,  Rewbel,  and  La  Reveil- 
lere — the  latter,  of  Carnot  and  Barthelemy. 
Of  the  two  last,  Carnot  (who  had  been,  it 
may  be  remembered,  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety  under  Robes- 
pierre) was  a  determined  Republican,  and 
Barthelemy  a  Royalist; — so  strangely  do 
revolutionary  changes,  like  the  eddies  and 
currents  of  a  swollen  river,  bring  together 
and  sweep  down  side  by  side  in  the  same 
direction,  objects  the  most  different  and 
opposed.  Barthelemy  of  course  dissented 
from  the  majority  of  the  Directors,  because 
secretly  and  warmly  he  desired  the  restora- 
tion of  the  Bourbons,  an  event  which  must 
have   been    fraught    with    danger    to    hi* 


280 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXIX. 


colleagues,  all  of  whom  had  voted  for  the 
death  of  Louis  XVI.  Carnot  also  differed 
from  the  majority,  certainly  with  no  sucli 
wiah  or  view  ;  but,  his  temper  being  as 
overbearing  as  his  genius  was  extensive,  ho 
was  impatient  of  opposition,  especially  in 
cases  where  he  knew  he  was  acting  wisely. 
He  advised  strongly,  for  example,  the  rati- 
fication of  the  articles  of  Leoben,  instead 
of  placing  all  which  France  had  acquired, 
and  all  which  she  might  lose,  on  the  last 
fatal  cast  with  an  enemy,  strong  in  his  very 
despair,  and  who  might  raise  large  armies, 
while  that  of  Buonaparte  could  neither  be 
reinforced  nor  supported  in  case  of  a  re- 
verse. Barras'  anger  on  the  occasion  was 
■o  great,  that  he  told  Carnot  at  the  council- 
board,  it  was  to  him  they  owed  that  infa- 
mous treaty  of  Leoben. 

While  the  Directory  were  thus  disunited 
«mong  themselves,  the  nation  showed  their 
dissatisfaction  openly,  and  particularly  in  the 
two  bodies  of  representatives.  The  major- 
ity indeed  of  the  Council  of  Elders  adhered 
to  the  Directory,  many  of  that  body  belong- 
ing to  the  old  republican  partizans.  But  in 
the  more  popularly  composed  Council  of 
Five  Hundred,  the  opposition  to  the  gov- 
ernment possessed  a  great  majority,  all 
of  whom  were  decidedly  against  the  Direc- 
tory, and  most  of  them  impressed  with  the 
wish  of  restoring,  upon  terms  previously 
to  be  adjusted,  the  ancient  race  of  legiti- 
mate monarchs.  This  body  of  persons  so 
thinking,  was  much  increased  by  the  num- 
ber of  emigrants,  who  obtained,  on  various 
grounds,  permission  to  return  to  their  native 
country  after  the  fall  of  Robespierre.  The 
forms  of  civil  life  began  now  to  be  univer- 
sally renewed ;  and,  as  had  been  the  case 
in  France  at  all  times,  excepting  during  the 
bloody  reign  of  Terror,  women  of  rank, 
beauty,  talent,  and  accomplishments,  began 
again'to  resume  their  places  in  society,  and 
their  saloons  or  boudoirs  were  often  the 
scene  of  deep  political  discourse,  of  a  sort 
which  in  Britain  is  generally  confined  to 
the  cabinet,  library,  or  dining-parlour.  The 
wishes  of  many,  or  most  of  these  coteries, 
were  in  favour  of  royalty  ;  the  same  feel- 
ings were  entertained  by  the  many  thou- 
eands  who  saw  no  possible  chance  of  set- 
tling the  nation  on  any  other  model ;  and 
there  is  little  doubt,  that  had  France  been 
permitted  at  that  moment  an  uninfluenced 
choice,  the  Bourbon  family  would  have 
been  recalled  to  the  throne  by  the  great 
majority  of  the  French  people. 

But  for  reasons  mentioned  elsewhere, 
the  military  were  the  decided  opponents  of 
the  Bourbons,  and  the  purchasers  of  nation- 
al domains,  through  every  successive  sale 
which  might  have  taken  place,  were  deeply 
interested  against  their  restoration,  IN  um- 
bers might  be  on  the  side  of  the  Royalists  ; 
but  physical  force,  and  the  influence  of 
wealth  and  of  the  monied  interest,  were 
decidedly  against  them. 

Pichegru  might  now  be  regarded  as  chief 
of  the  Royal  party.  He  was  an  able  and 
successful  general,  to  whom  France  owed 
the  conquest  of  Holland.  Like  La  Fayette 
and  Dumouricz,    he    had  been   disgusted 


with  the  conduct  of  the  R.evolution ;  and 
like  the  last  of  the  two  generals  named, 
had  opened  a  communication  with  '(he 
Bourbons.  He  was  accused  of  having  Buf- 
fered his  army  to  be  betrayed  in  a  defeat 
by  Clairfait,  and  the  government,  in  1796, 
removed  him  from  the  command  of  the  ar- 
my of  the  Sambre  and  Meuse,  offering  him 
in  exchange  the  situation  of  ambassador  to 
Sweden.  He  declined  this  species  of  hon- 
ourable exile,  and,  retiring  to  Franche 
Compte,  continued  his  correspondence 
with  the  Imperial  generals.  The  Royalists 
expected  much  from  the  countenance  of  a 
military  man  of  a  nar.ie  so  imposing ;  but 
we  have  seen  more  than  once  in  the  course 
of  tliese  Memoirs,  that  a  general  without 
an  army  is  like  a  hilt  without  the  blade 
whixh  it  should  wield  and  direct. 

An  opportunity,  however,  offered  Piche- 
gru the  means  of  serving  his  party  in  a  citil 
capacity,  and  that  a  most  important  one. 
The  elections  of  May  1797,  made  to  re- 
place that  proportion  of  the  councils  which 
retired  by  r  Hation,  terminated  generally  in 
favour  of  the  Royalists,  and  served  plainly 
to  show  on  which  side  the  balance  of  pop- 
ular feeling  now  leaned.  Pichegru,  who 
had  been  returned  as  one  of  the  deputies, 
was  chosen  by  acclamation  President  of  the 
Council  of  Five  Hundred,  and  Barbe  Mar- 
bois,  another  Royalist,  was  elected  to  the 
same  oflice  by  the  Council  of  Ancients, 
while,  as  we  have  already  said,  Barthele- 
my,  likewise  friendly  to  monarchy,  was  in- 
troduced into  tlie  Directory. 

These  elections  were  evil  signs  for  the 
Directory,  who  did  not  tail  soon  to  be  at- 
tacked on  every  side,  and  upbraided  with 
the  continuance  of  the  war  and  the  finan- 
cial distresses.  Various  journals  were  at 
the  disposal  of  the  party  opposed  to  the 
majority  of  the  Directors,  and  hostilities 
were  commenced  between  the  parties, 
both  in  the  assemblies,  where  the  Royalista 
had  the  advantage,  and  in  the  public  papers, 
where  they  were  also  favourably  listened 
to.  The  French  are  of  an  impatient  tem- 
per, and  could  not  be  long  brought  to  carry 
on  their  warfare  within  the  limits  assigned 
by  the  constitution.  Each  party,  without 
much  regard  to  the  state  of  the  law,  looked 
about  for  the  means  of  physical  force  with 
which  they  might  arm  themselves.  The 
Directory,  (that  is,  the  majority  of  that 
body,)  sensible  of  their  unpopularity,  and 
the  predominance  of  the  opposite  party, 
which  seemed  for  a  time  to  have  succeed- 
ed to  the  boldness  and  audacity  of  the  Rev- 
olutionary class,  hiid,  in  their  agony  of  ex- 
tremity, recourse  to  the  army,  and  threw 
themselves  upon  the  succour  of  Hoche  and 
of  Buonaparte. 

We  have  elsewhere  said,  that  Buonaparte 
at  this  period  was  esteemed  a  steady  re- 
publican. Pichegru  believed  him  to  be 
such  when  he  dissuaded  the  Royalists  from 
any  .attempt  to  gain  over  the  General  of  Ita- 
ly ;  and  as  he  had  known  him  at  school  at 
Brienne,  declared  him  of  too  stubborn  a 
character  to  afford  the  least  hope  of  suc- 
cess. Augereau  w.as  of  the  same  opinion, 
and  mistook  his  man  so  much,  that  when 


Cnap.  XXIX.]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


281 


Madame  de  Stael  asked  whether  Buona- 
parte was  not  inclined  to  make  himself 
King  of  Lombard}',  he  replied  with  great 
Fimplicity,  "  that  he  was  a  young  man  of 
too  elevated  a  character.''  Perhaps  Buon- 
aparte himself  felt  the  same  for  a  moment, 
when,  in  a  despatch  to  the  Directory,  he 
requests  their  leave  to  withdraw  from  the 
active  service  of  the  Republic,  as  one  who 
had  acquired  more  glory  than  was  consist- 
ent with  happiness.  "  Calumny/'  he  said, 
"  may  torment  herself  in  vain  with  ascrib- 
ing to  me  treacherous  designs.  My  civil, 
like  my  military  career,  shall  be  conform- 
ing to  republican  principles."* 

The  public  papers  also,  those  we  mean 
on  the  side  of  the  Directory,  fell  into  a 
sort  of  rapture  on  the  classical  republican 
feelings  by  which  Buonaparte  was  actuated, 
which  they  said  rendered  the  hope  of  his 
return  a  pleasure  pure  and  unmixed,  and 
precluded  the  possibility  of  treachery  or  en- 
grossing ideas  on  his  side.  "The  Ibctious 
of  every  class,"  they  said,  "  cannot  have  an 
enemy  more  steady,  or  the  government  a 
friend  more  faithful,  than  he  who,  invested 
with  the  military  power  of  which  he  has 
made  so  glorious  a  use,  sighs  only  to  resign 
a  situation  so  brilliant,  prefers  happiness  to 
glory,  and  now  that  the  Republic  is  graced 
with  triumph  and  peace,  desires  for  himself 
only  a  simple  and  retired  life." 

But  though  such  were  the  ideas  then  en- 
tertained of  Buonaparte's  truly  republican 
character,  framed,  doubtless,  on  the  model 
of  Cincinnatus  in  his  classical  simplicity, 
we  may  be  permitted  to  look  a  little  closer 
into  the  ultimate  views  of  him,  who  was 
admitted  by  his  enemies  and  friends,  avouch- 
ed by  himself,  and  sanctioned  by  the  jour- 
nals, as  a  pure  and  disinterested  republican  ; 
and  we  think  the  following  changes  may  be 
traced. 

Whether  Buonaparte  was  ever  at  heart  a 
real  Jacobin  even  for  the  moment,  may  be 
greatly  doubted,  whatever  mask  his  situa- 
tion obliged  him  to  wear.  He  himself  al- 
ways repelled  the  charge  as  an  aspersion. 
His  engagement  in  the  affair  of  the  Sections 
probably  determined  his  opinions  as  Re- 
publican, or  rather  Thermidorien,  at  the 
time,  as  became  him  by  whom  the  Repub- 
lican armyliad  been  led  and  commanded 
on  that  day.  Besides,  at  the  head  of  an 
army  zealously  republican,  even  his  power 
over  their  minds  required  to  be  strengtiien- 
ed,  for  some  time  at  least,  by  an  apparent 
correspondence  in  political  sentiments  be- 
twixt the  troops  and  the  general.  But  in 
the  practical  doctrines  of  government  which 
he  recommended  to  the  Italian  Republics, 
his  ideas  were  studiously  moderate,  and  he 
expressed  the  strongest  fear  of,  and  aver- 
eion  to,  revolutionary  doctrines.  He  rec- 
ommended the  granting  equal  rights  and 
equal  privileges  to  the  nobles,  as  well  as  to 
the  indignant  vassals  and  plebeians  who 
had  risen  against  them.  In  a  word,  he  ad- 
Tocated  a  free  set  of  institutions,  without 
the  intermediate  purgatory  of  a  revolution. 


*  Moniteur  1797,  No.  224. 


He  was  therefore,  at  this  period,  far  from 
being  a  Jacobin. 

But  though  Buonaparte's  wishes  virere 
thus  wisely  moderated  by  practical  views 
he  was  not  the  less  likely  to  be  sensible 
that  he  was  the  object  of  fear,  of  hatred, 
and  of  course  of  satire  and  misrepresenta- 
tion, to  that  side  of  the  opposed  parties  in 
FraJice  which  favoured  royalty.  Unhappily 
for  himself,  he  was  peculiarly  accessible  to 
every  wound  of  this  nature,  and,  anxiously 
jealous  of  his  fame,  suffered  as  much  under 
the  puny  attacks  of  the  journalists,  as  a  no- 
ble steer  or  a  gallant  horse  does  amid  his 
rich  pasture,  under  the  persecutions  of  in- 
sects, which,  in  comparison  to  himself,  are 
not  only  impotent,  but  nearly  invisible.  In 
several  letters  to  the  Directory,  he  exhibits 
feelings  of  this  nature  which  would  have 
been  more  gracefully  concealed,  and  evinc- 
es an  irritability  against  the  opposition 
prints,  which  we  think  likely  to  have  in- 
creased the  zeal  with  which  he  came  for- 
v.ard  on  the  Republican  side  at  this  impor- 
tant crisis. 

.\nother  circumstance,  which,  without 
determining  Buonaparte's  conduct,  may 
have  operated  in  increasing  his  good  will 
to  the  cause  which  he  embraced,  was  his 
having  obtained  the  clew  of  Pichegru'a 
correspondence  with  the  House  of  Bourbon. 
To  have  concealed  this,  would  have  made 
but  a  second-rate  merit  with  the  exiled  fam- 
ily, whose  first  thanks  must  have  been  due 
to  the  partisan  whom  he  protected.  This 
was  no  part  for  Buonaparte  to  play ;  not 
that  we  have  a  right  to  say  he  would  have 
accepted  the  chief  character  had  it  been 
offered  to  him,  but  his  ambition  could  never 
have  stooped  to  any  inferior  place  in  the 
drama.  In  all  probability,  his  ideas  fluc- 
tuated betwixt  the  example  of  Cromwell 
and  of  Washington — to  be  the  actual  lib- 
erator, or  the  absolute  governor  of  his 
country. 

His  particular  information  respecting 
Pichegru's  secret  negotiations,  was  derived 
from  an  incident  at  the  capture  of  Venice. 

Wlien  the  degenerate  Venetians,  more 
under  the  impulse  of  vague  terror  thaa 
from  any  distinct  plan,  adopted  in  haste  and 
tumult  the  measure  of  totally  surrendering 
their  constitution  and  rights,  to  be  new- 
modelled  by  the  French  general  after  his 
pleasure,  they  were  guilty  of  a  gross  and 
aggravated  breach  of  hospitality,  in  seizing 
the  person  and  papers  of  the  Corapte  d'En- 
traigues,*  agent,  or  envoy,  of  the  exiled 


*  Tills  gentleman  was  one  of  the  second  eraigr& 
tion,  who  left  France  during  Robespierre's  ascen- 
dency, lie  was  employed  as  a  political  agent  by 
the  Court  of  Russia,  after  the  affair  of  Venice, 
which  proves  that  he  was  not  at  least  convicted  of 
treachery  to  the  Bourbon  princes.  In  July  1812, 
he  was  assassinated  at  his  villa  at  Hackney,  near 
London,  by  an  Italian  domestic,  who,  having  nnir- 
dered  both  the  Count  and  Countess,  shot  himself 
through  the  head,  leaving  no  clew  to  discover  the 
motive  of  his  villainy.  It  was  remarked  that  tb» 
villain  used  Count  d'Entraigues'  own  pistols  and 
dagger,  which,  apprehensive  of  danger  as  a  polit- 
ical intriguer,  he  had  always  ready  prepared  ia 
his  apartment. 


282 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXIX. 


Bourbons,  who  was  then  residing  under 
their  protection.  The  envoy  himself,  as 
Buonaparte  alleges,  was  not  peculiarly 
faithful  to  his  trust ;  but,  besides  his  infor- 
mation, his  portfolio  contained  many  proofs 
of  Pichegru's  correspondence  with  the  al- 
lied generals,  and  with  the  Bourbons,  which 
placed  his  secret  absolutely  in  the  power  of 
the  General  of  Italy,  and  might  help  to  con- 
firm the  line  of  conduct  which  he  had  al- 
ready meditated  to  adopt. 

Possessed  of  these  documents,  and  sure 
that,  in  addressing  a  French  army  of  the 
day,  he  would  swim  with  the  tide  if  he  es- 
poused the  side  of  republicanism,  Buona- 
parte harangued  his  troops  on  the  auiniver- 
sary  of  the  taking  of  the  Bastile,  in  a  man- 
ner calculated  to  awaken  their  ancient  dem- 
ocratic enthusiasm.  "  Soldiers,  this  is  the 
14th  July  !  You  see  before  you  the  names 
of  your  companions  in  arms,  dead  in  the 
field  of  honour  for  the  liberty  of  their  coun- 
try. They  have  set  you  an  example,  that 
vou  owe  your  lives  to  thirty  millions  of 
t"renchmen,  and  to  the  national  name,  which 
has  received  new  splendour  from  your  vic- 
tories. Soldiers,  I  am  aware  you  are  deep- 
ly affected  by  the  dangers  which  threaten 
the  country.  But  she  can  be  subjected  to 
none  which  are  real.  The  same  men  who 
made  France  triumph  over  united  Europe, 
still  live — Mountains  separate  us  from 
France,  but  you  would  traverse  them  with 
the  speed  of  eagles,  were  it  necessary,  to 
maintain  the  constitution,  defend  liberty, 
protect  the  government  and  the  Republi- 
cans. Soldiers,  the  government  watches 
over  the  laws  as  a  sacred  deposit  committed 
to  them.  The  Royalists  shall  no  longer 
show  themselves  but  what  they  shall  cease 
to  exist.  Be  without  uneasiness,  and  let  us 
swear  by  the  manes  of  those  heroes  who 
have  died  by  our  sides  for  liberty — let  us 
swear,  too,  on  our  standards — War  to  the 
enemies  of  the  Republic,  and  of  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  year  Three  \" 

It  is  needless  to  remark,  that,  under  the 
British  constitution,  or  any  other  existing 
on  fixed  principles,  the  haranguing  an  arm- 
ed body  of  soldiers,  with  the  purpose  of 
inducing  them  to  interfere  by  force  in 
any  constitutional  question,  would  be  in 
one  point  of  view  mutiny,  in  another  high 
treason. 

The  hint  so  distinctly  given  by  the  gen- 
eral, was  immediately  adopted  by  the 
troops.  Deep  called  to  deep,  and  each  di- 
vision of  the  army,  whatever  its  denomina- 
tion, poured  forth  its  menaces  of  military 
lorce  and  compulsion  against  the  opposition 
party  in  the  Councils,  who  held  opinions 
different  from  those  of  their  military  chief, 
but  which  they  had,  at  least  hitherto,  only 
expressed  and  supported  by  those  means  of 
resistance  which  the  constitution  placed  in 
their  power.  In  other  words,  the  soldiers' 
idea  of  a  republic  was,  that  the  sword  was 
to  decide  the  constitutional  debates,  which 
give  so  much  trouble  to  ministers  in  a  mix- 
ed or  settled  government.  The  Pretorian 
bands,  the  Strelitzes,  the  Janissaries,  have 
all  in  their  turn  entertained  this  primitive 
and  simple  idea  of  reforming  abuses  in  a 


state,  and  changing,  by  the  application  of 
military  force,  an  unpopular  dynasty,  or  an 
obnoxious  ministry. 

It  was  not  by  distant  menaces  alone  that 
Buonaparte  served  the  Directory  at  this 
imoortant  crisis.  He  despatched  Augereau 
to  I'aris,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  pre- 
senting the  standards  taken  at  Mantua,  but 
in  reality  to  command  the  armed  force 
which  the  majority  of  the  Directory  had 
determined  to  employ  against  their  aissen- 
tient  colleagues,  and  the  opponents  of  their 
measures  in  the  national  councils.  Auge- 
reau was  a  blunt,  bold,  stupid  soldier,  a  de- 
voted Jacobin,  whose  principles  were  suffi- 
ciently well  known  to  warrant  his  standing 
upon  no  constitutional  delicacies.  But  in 
case  the  Directory  failed,  Buonaparte  kept 
himself  in  readiness  to  march  instantly  to 
Lyons  at  the  head  of  fifteen  thousand  men. 
There  rallying  the  Republicans,  and  all  who 
were  attached  to  the  Revolution,  he  would, 
according  to  his  own  well-chosen  expres- 
sion, like  Caesar,  have  crossed  the  Rubicon 
at  the  head  of  the  popular  pau-ty — and  end- 
ed, doubtless,  like  Cssar,  by  himself  usurp- 
ing the  supreme  command,  which  he  pre- 
tended to  assert  in  behalf  of  the  people. 

But  Buonaparte's  presence  was  not  so 
essentially  necessary  to  the  support  of  the 
Directory  as  he  might  have  expected,  or  aa 
he  perhaps  hoped.  They  had  military  aid 
nearer  at  hand.  Disregarding  a  fundamen- 
tal law  of  the  Constitution,  which  declared 
that  armed  troops  should  not  be  brought 
within  a  certain  distance  of  the  Legislative 
Bodies,  they  moved  towards  Paris  a  part  of 
GeneraJ  Hoche's  army.  The  majority  of 
the  Councils  becoming  alarmed,  prepared 
means  of  defence  by  summoning  the  Na- 
tional Guards  to  arms.  But  Augereau  al- 
lowed them  no  time.  He  marched  to  their 
place  of  meeting,  at  the  head  of  a  consider- 
able armed  force.  The  guards  stationed 
for  their  protection,  surprised  or  faithless, 
offered  no  resistance ;  and,  proceeding  as 
men  possessed  of  the  superior  strength, 
the  Directory  treated  their  political  oppo- 
nents as  state  prisoners,  arrested  Barthele- 
my  (Carnot  having  fled  to  Geneva,)  and 
made  prisoners,  in  the  Hall  of  the  Assem- 
bly and  elsewhere,  Willot,  President  of  the 
Council  of  Ancients,  Pichegru,  President 
of  that  of  the  Five  Hundred,  and  above  one 
hundred  and  fifty  deputies,  journalists,  and 
other  public  characters.  As  an  excuse  for 
these  arbitrary  and  illegal  proceedings,  the 
Directory  made  public  the  intercepted  cor- 
respondence of  Pichegru  ;  although  few  of 
the  others  involved  in  the  same  accusation 
were  in  the  secret  of  the  Royalist  conspira- 
cy. Indeed,  though  all  who  desired  an  ab- 
solute repose  from  the  revolutionarj'  alter- 
cations which  tore  the  country  to  pieces, 
began  to  look  that  way,  he  must  have  been 
a  violent  partisan  of  royalty  indeed,  that 
could  have  approved  of  the  conduct  of  a 
general,  who,  like  Pichegru,  commanding 
an  army,  had  made  it  his  business  to  sacri- 
fice his  troops  to  the  sword  of  the  enemy, 
by  disappointing  and  deranging  those  plans 
which  it  was  his  duty  to  have  carried  into 


Chap.  XXIX]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


283 


Few  would  at  first  believe  Pichegru's 
breach  of  faitli ;  but  it  was  suddenly  con- 
firmed by  a  proclamation  of  Moreau,  who, 
in  the  course  of  the  war,  had  intercepted 
a  baggage  wagon  belonging  to  the  Austrian 
general  Klinglin,  and  became  possessed  of 
the  whole  secret  correspondence,  which, 
nevertheless,  he  had  never  mentioned,  un- 
til it  came  out  by  the  seizure  of  the  Compte 
D'Entraigues'  portfolio.  Then,  indeed, 
tearing  perhaps  the  consequences  of  hav- 
ing been  so  long  silent,  Moreau  published 
■what  he  knew.  Regnier  had  observed  the 
same  suspicious  silence  ;  which  seems  to 
infer,  that  if  these  generals  did  not  precise- 
ly favour  the  royal  cause,  they  were  not 
disposed  to  be  active  in  detecting  the  con- 
spiracies formed  in  its  behalf. 

The  Directory  made  a  tyrannical  use  of 
the  power  which  they  obtained  by  their  vic- 
tory of  the  18th  Fructidor,  as  this  epoch 
was  called.  They  spilt,  indeed,  no  blood, 
but  otherwise  their  measures  against  the 
defeated  party  were  of  the  most  illegal  and 
oppressive  character.  A  law,  passed  in 
the  heat  of  animosity,  condemned  two  di- 
rectors, fifty  deputies,  and  an  hundred  and 
forty-eight  individuals  of  different  classes 
(most  of  whom  were  persons  of  some  char- 
acter and  influence,)  to  be  transported  to 
the  scorching  and  unhealthy  deserts  of 
Guiana,  which,  to  many,  was  a  sentence  of 
lingering  but  certain  death.  They  were 
barbarously  treated,  both  on  the  passage  to 
that  dreadful  place,  and  after  they  arrived 
there.  It  was  a  singular  part  of  their  fate, 
that  they  found  several  of  the  fiercest  of 
their  ancient  enemies,  the  Jacobins,  still 
cursing  God  and  defying  man,  in  the  same 
land  of  wretchedness  and  exile. 

Besides  these  severities,  various  elec- 
tions were  arbitrarily  dissolved,  and  other 
strong  measures  of  public  safety,  as  they 
•were  called,  adopted,  to  render  the  power 
of  the  Directory  more  indisputable.  Dur- 
ing this  whole  revolution,  the  lower  por- 
tion of  the  population,  which  used  to  be  so 
much  agitated  upon  like  occasions,  remain- 
ed perfectly  quiet ;  the  struggle  lay  exclu- 
sively between  the  middle  classes,  who  in- 
clined to  a  government  on  the  basis  of  roy- 
alty, and  the  Directory,  who,  without  hav- 
ing any  very  tangible  class  of  political  prin- 
ciples, had  become  possessed  of  the  su- 
preme power,  desired  to  retain  it,  and  made 
their  point  good  by  the  assistance  of  the 
military. 

Buonaparte  was  much  disappointed  at 
the  result  of  the  18th  Fructidor,  chiefly  be- 
cause, if  less  decisive,  it  would  have  added  ! 
more  to  his  consequence,  and  have  given 
him  an  opportunity  of  crossing,  as  he  term- 
ed it,  the  Rubicon.  As  it  was,  the  majority 
of  the  Directors, — three  men  of  no  particu- 
lar talent,  undistinguished  alike  bv  birth, 
by  services  to  their  country,  or  even  bv  ac- 
cidental popularity,  and  cait,  as  it  were  by 
chance,  upon  supreme  power. — remained 
by  the  issue  of  the  struggle  still  the  mas- 
ters of  the  bold  and  ambitious  conqueror, 
who  probably  already  felt  his  own  vocation 
to  be  for  command  rather  than  obedience. 

Napoleon  appears  by  his  .Memoirs  to  have 


regretted  the  violence  with  which  the  vic- 
torious Directors  prosecuted  their  personal 
revenge,  which  involved  many  for  whom 
he  had  respect.  He  declares  his  own  idea 
of  punishment  would  have  gone  no  farther 
than  imprisoning  some  of  the  most  danger- 
ous conspirators,  and  placing  others  onder 
the  watchful  superintendence  of  the  police. 
He  must  have  taken  some  painful  interest 
in  the  fate  of  Carnot  in  particular,  whom  he 
seems  to  have  regarded  as  one  of  his  most 
effective  patrons."  Indeed,  it  is  said  that 
he  was  so  much  displeased  with  the  Direc- 
tory even  prior  to  the  18th  Fructidor,  that 
he  refused  to  remit  a  sum  of  money  with 
which  he  had  promised  to  aid  them  for  the 
purpose  of  forwarding  that  event.  Barras' 
secretary  was  sent  to  task  him  with  this 
contumacy;  which  he  did  so  unceremoni- 
ously, that  the  general,  unused  to  contra- 
diction, was  about  to  order  this  agent  to  be 
shot ;  but,  on  consideration,  put  him  off 
with  some  insignificant  reply. 

It  followed,  from  the  doubtful  terms  ou 
which  Buonaparte  stood  with  the  Directo- 
ry, that  they  must  have  viewed  his  return 
to  Paris  with  some  apprehension,  when 
they  considered  the  impression  likely  to  be 
made  on  any  capital,  but  especially  on  that 
of  Paris,  by  the  appearance  there  of  odc 
who  seemed  to  be  the  chosen  favourite  of 
Fortune,  and  to  deserve  her  favours  by  the 
use  which  he  made  of  them.  The  medi- 
ocrity of  such  men  as  Barras  never  gives 
them  so  much  embarrassment,  as  when,  be- 
ing raised  to  an  elevation  above  their  desert, 
they  find  themselves  placed  in  comparison 
with  one  to  whom  nature  has  given  the  tal- 
ents which  their  situation  requires  in  them- 
selves. The  higher  their  condition,  their 
demeanour  is  the  more  awkward ;  for  the 
factitious  advantages  which  they  possess 
cannot  raise  them  to  the  natural  dignity  of 
character,  unless  in  the  sense  in  which  a 
dwarf,  by  the  assistance  of  crutches,  may 
be  said  to  be  as  tall  as  a  giant.  The  Di- 
rectory had  already  found  Buonaparte,  on 
several  occasions,  a  spirit  of  the  sort  which 
would  not  be  commanded.  Undoubtedly 
they  would  have  been  well  pleased  had  it 
been  possible  to  have  found  him  employ- 
ment at  a  distance  ;  but  as  that  seemed  dif- 
ficult, they  were  obliged  to  look  round  for 
the  means  of  employing  him  at  home,  or 
abide  the  tremendous  risk  of  his  finding  oc- 
cupation for  himself. 

It  is  surprising  that  it  did  not  occur  to 
the  Directory  to  make  at  least  the  attempt 
of  conciliating  Buonaparte,  by  providing 
for  his  future  fortune  largely  and  liberally, 
at  the  espence  of  the  public.  He  deserv- 
ed that  attention  to  his  private  affairs,  for 
he  had  himself  entirely  neglected  them. 
While  he  drew  from  the  dominions  which 
he  conquered  or  overawed  in  Italy,  im- 
mense sums  in  behalf  of  the   French  na- 


*In  Carnot's  Memoirs,  the  merit  of  discovering 
Buonaparte's  talents  and  taking  care  of  his  promo- 
tion, is  attributed  to  Carnot,  rather  than  to  Bar- 
ras. However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  Na- 
poleon acknowledged  great  obligations  to  Carnot, 
and  protested  to  him  perpetual  gratitude. — See 
Moniteur,  I'an  5,  No.  140. 


384 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXIX. 


tion,  which  he  applied  in  part  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  army,  and  in  part  remitted  to 
the  Directory,  he  kept  no  accounts,  nor 
vere  any  demanded  of  him  ;  but  accord- 
ing to  his  own  account,  he  transmitted  fifty 
millions  of  francs  to  Paris,  and  had  not  re- 
maining of  his  own  funds,  when  he  return- 
ed from  Italy,  more  than  three  hundred 
thousand. 

It  is  no  doubt  true,  that,  to  raise  these 
sums,  Buonaparte  had  pillaged  the  old 
states,  thus  selling  to  tlie  newly-formed 
commonwealths  their  liberty  and  equality 
at  a  very  handsome  rate  and  probably 
leaving  them  in  very  little  danger  of  cor- 
ruption from  that  wealth  which  is  said  to 
be  the  bane  of  republican  virtue.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
that  if  the  French  general  plundered  the 
Italians  as  Cortez  did  the  Mexicans,  he  did 
not  reserve  any  considerable  share  of  tbfe 
spoil  Tor  his  own  use,  though  the  opportu- 
nity was  often  in  his  power. 

The  commissary  Salicetti,  his  country- 
man, recommeaded  a  less  scrupulous  line 
of  conduct.  Soon  after  the  first  successes 
in  Italy,  he  acquainted  Napoleon  that  the 
Chevalier  d'Este,  the  Duke  of  Modena's 
brother  and  envoy,  had  four  millions  of 
francs,  in  gold,  contained  in  four  chests, 
prepared  for  his  acceptance.  "  The  Direc- 
tory and  the  Legislative  Bodies  will  nev- 
er," he  said,  "  acknowledge  your  services — 
your  circumstances  require  the  money,  and 
the  Duke  will  gain  a  protector." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Buonaparte  ;  "  but  I 
will  not  for  four  millions  place  myself  in 
the  power  of  the  Duke  of  Modena." 

The  Venetians,  in  the  last  agony  of  their 
terrors,  offered  the  French  general  a  pres- 
ent of  seven  millions,  which  was  refused 
ia  the  same  manner.  Austria  also  had 
mtde  her  proffers ;  and  they  were  nothing 
less  than  a  principality  in  the  empire,  to 
bo  established  in  Napoleon's  favour,  consist- 
ing of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  in- 
habitants at  least,  a  provision  which  would 
have  put  him  out  of  danger  of  suffering  by 
the  proverbial  ingratitude  of  a  republic. 
TTic  general  transmitted  his  thanks  to  the 
Emperor  for  this  proof  of  the  interest  which 
he  took  in  his  fortune,  but  added,  he  could 
accept  of  no  wealth  or  preferment  which 
did  not  proceed  from  the  French  people, 
and  that  he  should  be  always  satisfied  with 
the  amount  of  revenue  which  they  might 
be  disposed  to  afford  him. 

But,  howe-ver  free  from  the  wish  to  ob- 
tain wealth  by  any  indirect  means.  Napole- 
on appears  to  have  expected,  that  in  return 
for  public  services  of  such  unusual  magni- 
tude, some  provision  ought  to  have  been 
made  for  him.  An  attempt  was  made  to 
procure  a  public  grant  of  the  domain  of 
Chambord  and  a  lar  e  hotel  in  Paris  as  an 


acknowledgment  of  the  national  gratitude 
for  his  brilliant  successes  3  but  the  Directo- 
ry thwarted  the  proposal. 

The  proposition  respecting  Chambord 
was  not  the  only  one  of  the  kind.  Mali 
bran,  a  member  of  the  Council  of  Fire 
Hundred,  made  a  motion  that  Buonaparte 
should  be  endowed  with  a  revenue  at  the 
public  charge,  of  fifty  thousand  livres  annu- 
ally, with  a  reversion  to  his  wife  of  one  half 
of  that  sum.  It  may  be  supposed  that  this 
motion  had  not  been  sufficiently  consider 
ed  and  preconcerted,  since  it  was  very  in- 
differently received,  and  was  evaded  by  the 
swaggering  declaration  of  a  member,  that 
such  glorious  deeds  could  not  be  rewarded 
by  gold.  So  that  the  Assembly  adopted 
the  reasonable  principle,  that  because  the 
debt  of  gratitude  was  too  great  to  be  paid 
in  money,  therefore  he  to  whom  it  was  due 
was  to  be  suffered  to  remain  in  compara- 
tive indigence — an  economical  mode  of 
calculation,  and  not  unlike  that  high-sound- 
ing doctrine  of  the  civil  law,  which  states, 
that  a  free  man  being  seized  on,  and  forci- 
bly sold  for  a  slave,  shall  obtain  ao  dama- 
ges on  that  account,  because  the  liberty  of 
a  citizen  is  too  transcendently  valuable  to 
be  put  to  estimation. 

Whatever  might  be  the  motives  of  the 
Directory ;  whether  they  hoped  that  pover- 
ty might  depress  Buonaparte's  ambition, 
render  him  more  dependant  on  the  govern- 
ment, and  oblige  him  to  remain  in  a  pri- 
vate condition  for  want  of  means  to  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  party ;  or  whether 
they  acted  with  the  indistinct  and  confused 
motives  of  little  minds,  who  wish  to  injure 
those  whom  they  fear,  their  conduct  was 
alike  ungracious  and  impolitic.  They  ought 
to  have  calculated,  that  a  generous  mind 
would  have  been  attached  by  benefits,  and 
that  a  selfish  one  might  have  been  deterred 
from  more  doubtful  and  ambitious  projects, 
by  a  prospect  of  sure  and  direct  advantage ; 
but  that  marked  ill-will  and  distrust  must 
in  every  case  render  him  dangerous,  who 
has  the  power  to  be  so. 

Their  plan,  instead  of  resting  on  an  at- 
tempt to  conciliate  the  ambitious  conquer- 
or, and  soothe  him  to  the  repose  of  a  tran- 
quil indulgence  of  independence  and  ease, 
seems  to  have  been  that  of  devising  for 
him  new  labours,  like  the  wife  of  Eurys- 
theus  for  the  juvenile  Hercules.  If  he 
succeeded,  they  may  have  privately  count- 
ed upon  securing  the  advantages  for  them- 
selves ;  if  he  failed,  they  were  rid  of  a 
troublesome  rival  in  the  race  of  power  and 
popularity.  It  was  with  these  views  that 
they  proposed  to  Napoleon  to  crown  his 
military  glories,  by  assuming  the  command 
of  the  preparations  made  for  the  conquest 
of  England. 


Chap.  XXX.\ 


LIFE  OF  iSTAPOLEON  BUOXAPARTE, 


285 


CHAP.  ZZX. 

View  of  the  respective  Situations  of  Great  Britain  and  France,  at  the  Period  of  Napo- 
leon's return  from  Italy. — Negotiations  at  Lisle — Broken  off,  and  Lord  Malmesbury 
ordered  to  quit  the  Republic. — Army  of  England  decreed,  and  Buonaparte  named  to  the 
Command — He  takes  tip  his  Residence  in  Paris — Description  of  hii  personal  Charac- 
ter and  Manners. — Madame  de  Stael. — Public  Honours  paid  to  Napoleon. — Project  of 
Invasion  terminated,  and  the  real  views  of  the  Directory  discovered  to  be  the  Expedi- 
tion to  Egypt. — Armies  of  Italy  and  the  Rhiiic  compared  and  contrasted. — Napoleon'a 
Views  and  Notions  in  heading  the  Egyptian  Expedition — those  of  the  Directory  re- 
garding it — Its  actual  Impolicy. — Curious  Statement  regarding  Buonaparte,  previous 
to  his  Departure,  given  by  Miot. —  The  Armament  sails  from  Toxdon,  on  With  May 
1798. — Napoleon  occupies  Malta,  without  resistarice,  on  \Oih  June — Proceeds  on  hi* 
course,  and,  escaping  the  British  Squadron,  lands  at  Alexandria  on  the  1st  Jidy. — 
Description  of  the  various  (lasses  of  Nations  tcho  inhabit  Egypt: — 1.  The  Fellah* 
and  Bedouins — 2.  The  Cophts — 3.  The  Mamelukes. — Napoleon  issues  a.  Proclama- 
tion from  Alexandria,  against  the  Mamelukes — Marches  against  them  on  the  1th  July. 
— Mameluke  mode  of  fighting. — Discontent  and  disappointment  of  the  French  Troop* 
and  their  Commanders — Arrive  at  Cairo. — Battle  of  the  Pyramids  on  the  "IstofJuly, 
in  which  the  Mamelukes  icere  completely  defeated  and  dispersed. — Cairo  surrender*. 


It  might  have  been  thought,  such  was  the 
success  of  the  French  arms  on  the  land,  and 
of  the  British  upon  the  sea,  that  the  war 
must  now  be  near  its  natural  and  unavoida- 
ble termination,  like  a  lire  when  there  no 
longer  remain  any  combustibles  to  be  de- 
voured. Wherever  water  could  bear  them, 
tlie  Britisli  vessels  of  war  had  swept  the 
e^iM  of  the  enemy.  The  greater  part  of  the 
foriML,'!)  colonies  belonging  to  France  and 
her  allies,  among  whom  she  now  numbered 
Holland  and  Spain,  were  in  the  possession 
of  the  English,  nor  had  France  a  chance 
of  recovering  them.  On  the  contrary,  not 
a  musket  was  seen  pointed  against  France 
on  the  continent ;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if 
tlie  great  rival  nations,  fighting  with  differ- 
ent weapons  and  on  different  elements, 
must  be  length  give  up  a  contest,  in  which 
it  was  almost  impossible  to  come  to  a  deci- 
ifive  struggle.  , 

An  attempt  accordingly  was  made,  by  the 
negotiation  of  Lisle,  to  bring  to  a  period 
the  war  which  appeared  now  to  subsist  en- 
tirely without  an  object.  Lord  Malmesbu- 
ry, on  tliat  occasion,  gave  in,  on  the  part  of 
Britain,  an  offer  to  surrender  all  the  con- 
quests she  had  made  from  France  and  her 
allies  ;  on  condition  of  the  cession  of  Trin- 
idad, on  the  part  of  Spain,  and  of  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  Cochin,  and  Ceylon,  on  the 

?iarl  of  Holland,  with  some  stipulations  in 
avnur  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  ami  his  ad- 
herents in  the  IVetlierlands.  The  French 
commissioners,  m  reply,  declared,  that 
their  instructions  required  that  the  English 
should  make  a  complete  ecssinn  of  their 
conquests,  without  any  equivalent  whatso- 
ever ;  and  they  insisted,  as  indispensable 
preliminaries,  that  the  King  of  Great  Brit- 
ain should  lay  aside  his  titular  designation 
of  King  uf  France — that  the  Toulon  fleet 
should  be  restored — and  that  the  English 
»hould  renounce  their  right  to  certain  mort- 
gages over  the  Netherlands,  for  money  lent 
to  the  Emperor.  Lord  Malmesbury,  of 
course,  rejected  a  sweeping  set  of  proposi- 
tions, which  decided  every  question  against 
England  before  the  negotiation  commenc- 
ed, and  solicited  the  French   to  offer  some 


modified  form  of  treaty.  The  18th  Fructi- 
dor,  however,  had  in  the  interim  taken 
place,  and  the  Republican  party,  being  in 
possession  of  complete  authority,  broke  off 
the  negotiation,  if  it  could  be  called  sucn, 
abruptly,  and  ordered  the  English  ambassa- 
dor out  of  the  dominions  of  the  Republic 
with  very  little  ceremony.  It  was  now 
proclaimed  generally,  that  the  e.xistence  of 
the  English  Carthage  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  French  Rome  was  altogether  inad- 
missible ;  that  England  must  be  subdued 
once  more,  as  in  the  times  of  William  the 
Conqueror  ;  and  the  hopes  of  a  complete 
and  final  victory  over  their  natural  rival  and 
enemy,  as  the  two  nations  are  but  overapt 
to  esteem  each  other,  presented  so  flatter- 
ing a  prospect,  that  there  was  scarce  a  par- 
ty in  France,  not  even  amongst  the  Royal- 
ists, which  did  not  enter  on  what  was  ex- 
pected to  prove  the  decisive  contest,  with 
the  revival  of  all  those  feelings  of  bitter  an- 
imosity that  had  distinguished  past  ages. 

Towards  the   end  of  October   1797,  the 
Directory  announced  that  there  should  be 
instantly  assembled  on  the  shores  of  the 
ocean  an  army,  to  be  called  the  Army  of 
England,    and    that    the    Citizen-General 
Buonaparte   was  named  to  the  command. 
The   intelligence  was    received   in  every 
part  of  I'rance  with  all  the  triumph  whicn 
attends  the  anticipation  of  certain  victory. 
'  The  address  of  the  Directory  numbered  all 
the  conquests  which  France  had  won,  and 
the  efforts  she  had  made,  and  prepared  the 
French  nation  to  expect  the  fruit  of  so  ma- 
ny victories  and  sacrifices   when  they  had 
punished   England  for  her  perfidy  and  mar- 
itime tyranny.  •'  It  is  at  London  where  ths 
misfortunes  of  all  Europe  are   forged  and 
[  manufactured — It  is  in  London  that  they 
I  must  be  terminated.'      In  a  solemn  meeting 
'  held  by  the   Directory,  for  the  purpose   of 
:  receiving  the  treaty  of  peace  with  Austria, 
!  which  was  presented  to  them  by  Berthier 
and  Monge  on  the  part  of  Buonaparte,  the 
I  latter  who  had  been  one  of  the   commit 
I  sioners  for  pillaging  Italy  of  her  pictures 
I  and  statues,  and  who  looked,  doubtless,  to 
' »  new  harvest  of  rarities  in  England,  ••• 


286 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXX. 


cepted,  on  the  part  of  the  army  and  gener- 
al, the  task  imposed  by  the  French  rulers. 
"  The  government  of  England  and  the 
French  Republic  cannot  both  continue  to 
exist — you  have  given  the  word  which  shall 
fall — already  our  victorious  troops  brandish 
their  arms,  and  Scipio  is  at  their  head." 

While  this  farce,  for  such  it  proved,  was 
acting  in  Paris,  the  Chief  of  the  intended 
enterprise  arrived  there,  and  took  up  his 
abode  in  the  same  modest  house  which  he 
had  occupied  before  becoming  the  conquer- 
or of  palaces.  The  community  of  Paris, 
with  much  elegance,  paid  their  successful 
general  the  compliment  of  changing  the 
name  of  the  street  from  Rue  Chantereine 
to  Rue  des  Victoires. 

In  a  metropolis  where  all  is  welcome  that 
can  vary  the  tedium  of  ordinary  life,  the  ar- 
rival of  any  remarkable  person  is  a  species 
of  holiday  ;  but  such  an  eminent  character 
as  Buonaparte — the  conqueror — the  sage — 
the  politician — the  undaunted  braver  of  ev- 
ery difficulty — the  invincible  victor  in  every 
battle — who  had  carried  the  banners  of  the 
Republic  from  Genoa  till  their  approach 
scared  the  Pontiff  in  Rome,  and  the  Empe- 
ror in  Vienna,  was  no  every-day  wonder. 
His  youth,  too,  added  to  the  marvel,  and 
still  more  the  claim  of  general  superiority 
over  the  society  in  which  he  mingled, 
though  consisting  of  the  most  distinguished 
persons  in  France  ;  a  superiority  cloaking 
itself  with  a  species  of  reserve,  which  in- 
ferred, "  You  may  look  upou  me,  but  you 
cannot  penetrate  or  see  through  me."  Na- 
poleon's general  manner  in  society,  during 
this  part  of  his  life,  has  been  described  by 
an  observer  of  first-rate  power  ;  according 
to  whom  he  was  one  for  whom  the  admira- 
tion which  could  not  be  refused  to  him,  was 
always  mingled  with  a  portion  of  fear.  He 
was  different  in  his  manner  from  other  men 
and  neither  pleased  nor  angry,  kind  nor  se- 
vere, after  the  common  fashion  of  humanity. 
He  appeared  to  live  for  the  execution  of 
his  own  plans,  and  to  consider  others  only 
in  so  far  as  they  were  connected  with,  and 
could  advance  or  oppose  them.  He  esti- 
mated his  fellow-mortals  no  otherwise  than 
as  they  could  be  useful  to  his  views  ;  and 
with  a  precision  of  intelligence  which 
neemed  intuitive  from  its  rapidity,  he  pen- 
etrated the  sentiments  of  those  whom  it  was 
worth  his  while  to  study.  Buonaparte  did 
not  then  possess  the  ordinary  tone  of  light 
conversation  in  society  5  probably  his  mind 
was  too  much  burthened  or  too  proud  to 
stoop  to  adopt  that  mode  of  pleasing,  and 
there  was  a  stiffness  and  reserve  of  manner, 
which  was  perhaps  adopted  for  the  purpose 
of  keeping  people  at  a  distance.  His  look 
had  the  same  character.  When  he  thought 
himself  closely  observed,  he  had  the  power 
of  discharging  from  his  countenance  all  ex- 
pression save  that  of  a  vague  and  indefinite 
smile,  and  presenting  to  the  curious  inves- 
tigator the  fixed  eyes  and  rigid  features  of  a 
bust  of  marble. 

When  he  talked  with  the  purpose  of 
pleasing.  Buonaparte  often  told  anecdotes 
of  his  life  in  a  very  pleasing  manner  ;  when 
Btleut,  he  had  eomething  disdainful  in  the 


expression  of  his  face  ;  when  disposed  to  be 
quite  at  ease,  he  was,  in  Madame  de  Stael'a 
opinion,  rather  vulgar.  His  natural  tone  of 
feeling  seemed  to  be  a  sense  of  internal  su- 
periority, and  of  secret  contempt  for  the 
world  in  which  he  lived,  the  men  with 
whom  he  acted,  and  even  the  very  objects 
which  he  pursued.  His  character  and  man- 
ners were  upon  the  whole  strongly  calculat- 
ed to  attract  the  attention  of  the  French  na- 
tion, and  to  excite  a  perpetual  interest  ev- 
en from  the  very  mystery  which  attached  to 
him,  as  well  as  from  tjie  splendour  of  his 
triumphs.  The  supreme  power  was  resid- 
ing in  the  Luxembourg  ostensibly;  but  Pa- 
ris was  aware,  that  the  means  which  had 
raised,  and  which  must  support  and  extend 
that  power,  were  to  be  found  in  the  humble 
mansion  of  the  newly-christened  Rue  des 
Victoires. 

Some  of  these  features  are  perhaps  harsh- 
ly designed,  as  being  drawn  recentibtia 
odiis.  The  disagreement  between  Buona- 
aparte  and  Madame  de  Stiel,  from  whom 
we  have  chiefly  described  them,  is  well 
known.  It  originated  about  this  time,  when, 
as  a  first-rate  woman  of  talent,  she  was  nat- 
urally desirous  to  attract  the  notice  of  the 
Victor  of  Victors.  They  appear  to  have 
misunderstood  each  other;  for  the  ladv, 
who  ought  certainly  to  know  best,  has  in- 
formed us,  "  that  far  from  feeling  her  fear 
of  Buonaparte  removed  by  repeated  meet- 
ings, it  seemed  to  increase,  and  his  best  ex- 
ertions to  please  could  not  overcome  her 
invincible  aversion  for  what  she  found  in  his 
character."  His  ironical  contempt  of  ex- 
cellence of  every  kind,  operated  like  the 
sword  in  romance,  which  froze  while  it 
wounded.  Buonaparte  seems  never  to  have 
suspected  the  secret  and  mys'/^rious  terror 
with  which  he  impressed  the  ingenious  au- 
thor of  Corinne  ;  on  the  contrarv,  Las  Ca- 
sas  tells  us  that  she  combined  all  her  ef- 
forts, and  all  her  means,  to  make  an  impress- 
ion on  the  general.  She  wrote  to  him  when 
distant,  and,  as  the  Count  ungallantly  ex- 
presses it,  tormented  him  when  present.  In 
truth,  to  use  an  established  French  phrase, 
they  stood  in  a  false  position  with  respect 
to  each  other.  Madame  de  Stael  might  be 
pardoned  for  thinking  that  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  resist  her  wit  and  her  talent,  xvhen 
exerted  with  the  purpose  of  pleasing;  but 
Buonaparte  was  disposed  to  repel,  rather 
than  encourage  the  advances  of  one  whose 
views  were  so  shrewd,  and  her  observation 
so  keen,  while  her  sex  permitted  her  to 
push  her  inquiries  farther  than  one  man 
might  have  dared  to  do  in  conversing  with 
another.  She  certainly  did  desire  to  look 
into  him  "  with  considerate  eyes."  and  on 
one  occasion  put  his  abilities  to  the  proof, 
by  asking  him  rather  abruptly,  in  the  middle 
of  a  brilliant  party  at  Talleyrand's,  '•  Whom 
he  esteemed  the  greatest  woman  in  the 
world,  alive  or  dead  .'"—••  Her,  madam,  that 
has  borne  the  most  children."'  answered 
Buonaparte,  with  much  appearance  of  sim- 
plicity. Disconcerted  by  the  replv,  she  ob- 
served, that  he  was  reported  not  to  be  a 
sreat  admirer  of  the  fair  sex.  "  I  am  very 
»oud  of  my  wife,  madam,"  he  replied,  witn 


Chap.  XXX.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLKO.N  BUONAPARTE. 


287 


one  of  those  brief  and  yet  piquant  observa- 
tions, which  adjourned  a  debate  as  prompt- 
ly as  one  of  his  characteristic  manoEuvres 
would  have  ended  a  battle.  From  this  pe- 
riod there  was  enmity  between  Buonaparte 
and  Madame  de  Stael ;  and  at  different 
times  he  treated  her  with  a  harshness  which 
had  some  appearance  of  actual  personal  dis- 
like, though  perhaps  rather  directed  against 
the  female  politician  than  the  woman  of 
literature.  After  his  fall,  Madame  de  Stael 
relented  in  her  resentment  to  him ;  and  we 
remember  her,  during  the  campaign  of  1814, 
presaging  in  society  how  the  walls  of 
Troyes  were  to  see  a  second  invasion  and 
defeat  of  the  Huns,  as  had  taken  place  in 
the  days  of  Attalia,  while  the  French  Em- 
peror was  to  enact  the  second  Theodorick. 

In  the  meantime,  while  popular  feeling 
and  the  approbation  of  distinguished  genius 
were  thus  seeking  to  pay  court  to  the  youth- 
ful conqueror,  the  Directory  found  them- 
selves obliged  to  render  to  him  that  sem- 
blance of  homage  which  could  not  have 
been  withheld  without  giving  much  offence 
to  general  opinion,  and  injuring  those  who 
omitted  to  pay  it,  much  more  than  him  who 
was  entitled  by  the  unanimous  voice  to  re- 
ceive it.  On  the  10th  of  December,  the 
Directory  received  Buonaparte  in  public, 
with  honours  which  the  Republican  gov- 
ernment had  not  yet  conferred  on  any  sub- 
ject, and  which  must  have  seemed  incon- 
gruous to  those  who  had  any  recollection  of 
the  liberty  and  equality,  once  so  emphatic- 
ally pronounced  to  be  the  talisman  of  French 
prosperity.  The  ceremony  took  place  in 
the  great  court  of  the  Luxembourg  pal- 
ace, where  the  Directory,  surrounded  by  all 
that  was  officially  important  or  distinguish- 
ed by  talent,  received  from  Buonaparte's 
hand  the  confirmed  treaty  of  Campo  For- 
mio.  The  delivery  of  this  document  was 
accompanied  by  a  speech  from  Buonaparte, 
in  which  he  told  the  Directory,  that,  in  or- 
der to  establish  a  constitution  founded  on 
reason,  it  was  necessary  tliat  eighteen  cen- 
turies of  prejudices  should  be  conquered — 
"The  constitution  of  the  year  three,  and 
you,  have  triumphed  over  all  these  obsta- 
cles." The  triumph  lasted  exactly  until 
the  year  eight,  when  the  orator  himself 
overthrew  the  constitution,  destroyed  the 
power  of  the  rulers  who  had  overcome  the 
prejudices  of  eighteen  centuries,  and  reign- 
ed in  their  stead. 

The  French,  who  had  banished  religion 
from  their  thouglits.  and  from  their  sys- 
tem of  domestic  policy,  yet  usually  pre- 
served some  perverted  ceremony  connect- 
ed with  It,  on  public  solemnities.  They 
had  discused  the  exercises  of  devotion, 
and  expressly  disowned  the  existence  of  an 
object  of  worship ;  yet  they  could  not  do 
without  altars,  and  iiymns,  and  rites,  upon 
such  occasions  as  the  present.  The  Gen- 
eral, conducted  by  Barras.  the  President  of 
the  Directory,  approached  an  erection, 
termed  the  .\ltar  of  the  Country,  where 
tbey  went  through  various  appropriate  cer- 
pinnnie?,  and  at  length  dismissed  a  numer- 
ous a.xsembly,  much  edified  with  what  they 
h«J  ioen.    The  two  Councils,  or  Represen- 


tative Bodies,  also  gave  a  splendid  banquet 
in  honour  of  Buonaparte.  And  what  he  ap- 
peared to  receive  with  more  particular  sat- 
isfaction than  these  marks  of  distinction, 
the  Institute  admitted  him  a  member  of  ita 
body  in  the  room  of  his  friend  Carnot  (who 
was  actually  a  fugitive,  and  believed  at  the 
time  to  be  dead,)  while  the  poet  Chenier 
promulgated  his  praises,  and  foretold  hia 
liiture  triumphs,  and  his  approaching  con- 
quest of  England. 

There  is  nothing  less  philosophical  than 
to  attach  ridicule  to  the  customs  of  other 
nations,  merely  because  they  differ  from 
those  of  our  own  ;  yet  it  marks  the  differ- 
ence between  England  and  her  continental 
neighbour,  that  the  two  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment never  thought  of  giving  a  dinner  to 
Marlborough,  nor  did  the  Royal  Society 
choose  his  successor  in  the  path  of  victory 
a  member  by  acclamation ;  although  the 
British  nation  in  either  case  acquitted  them- 
selves of  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  they 
owed  their  illustrious  generals,  in  the  hum- 
bler and  more  vulgar  mode  of  conferring  on 
both  large  and  princely  domains. 

Meantime  the  threat  of  invasion  was 
maintained  with  unabated  earnestness.  But 
it  made  no  impression  on  the  British,  or 
rather  it  stimulated  men  of  all  ranks  to  bu- 
ry temporary  and  party  dissensions  about 
politics,  and  bend  themselves,  with  the 
whole  energy  of  their  national  character,  to 
confront  and  resist  the  preparations  made 
against  them.  Their  determination  was 
animated  by  recollections  of  their  own  tra- 
ditional gallantry,  which  had  so  often  in- 
flicted the  deepest  wounds  upon  France, 
and  was  not  now  likely  to  give  up  to  any- 
thing short  of  the  most  dire  necessity.  The 
benefits  were  then  seen  of  a  free  constitu- 
tion, which  permits  the  venom  of  party- 
spirit  to  evaporate  in  open  debate.  Those 
who  had  differed  on  the  question  of  peace 
or  war,  were  unanimous  in  that  of  national 
defence,  and  resistance  to  the  common  en- 
emy ;  and  those  who  appeared  in  the  vul- 
gar eve  engaged  in  unappeasable  conten- 
tion, were  the  most  eager  to  unite  them- 
selves together  for  these  purposes,  as  men 
employed  in  fencing  would  throw  down  the 
foils  and  draw  their  united  swords,  if  dis- 
turbed by  the  approach  of  robbers. 

Buonaparte  in  the  meanwhile  made  a 
complete  survev  of  the  coast  of  the  British 
channel,  pausing  at  each  remarkable  point, 
and  making  those  remarks  and  calculations 
which  induced  him  to  adopt  at  an  after  pe- 
riod the  renewal  of  the  project  for  a  de- 
scent upon  England.  The  result  of  his  ob- 
servations decided  his  opinion,  that  in  the 
present  case  the  undertaking  ought  to  be 
abandoned.  The  immense  preparations 
and  violent  threats  of  invasion  were  carried 
into  no  more  serious  effect  t!ian  the  land- 
ing of  about  twelve  or  fourteen  liundred 
P'renchmen.  under  a  General  Tate,  at  Fish- 
guard, in  South  Wales.  They  were  with- 
out artillery,  and  behaved  rather  like  men 
whom  a  shipwreck  had  cast  on  a  hostile 
sliore,  than  like  an  invading  enemy,  as  they 
gave  themselves  ap  as  prisoners  without 
CTen  a  show  of  defence  to  Lo"d  Cawdor, 


288 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXX. 


who  had  marched  against  them  at  the  head 
of  a  body  of  the  Welsh  militia,  hastily 
drawn  together  on  the  alarm.  The  meas- 
ure was  probably  only  to  be  considered  as 
experimental,  and  as  such  must  have  been 
regarded  as  an  entire  failure. 

The  demonstrations  of  invasion,  howev- 
er, were  ostensibly  continued,  and  every- 
thing seemed  arranged  on  either  side  for  a 
desperate  collision  betwixt  the  two  most 
powerful  nations  in  Europe.  But  the  pro- 
ceedings of  politicians  resemble  those  of 
the  Indian  traders  called  Banians,  who 
seem  engaged  in  talking  about  ordinary 
and  trifling  affairs,  while,  with  their  hands 
concealed  beneath  a  shawl  that  is  spread 
between  them,  they  are  secretly  debating 
and  adjusting,  by  signs,  bargains  of  the  ut- 
most importance.  While  all  France  and 
England  had  their  eyes  fi.xed  on  the  fleets 
and  armies  destined  against  the  latter  coun- 
try, the  Directory  and  their  general  had  no 
intention  of  using  these  preparations,  ex- 
cept as  a  blind  to  cover  their  real  object, 
which  was  the  celebrated  expedition  to 
Egypt. 

While  yet  in  Italy,  Buonaparte  had  sug- 
gested to  the  Directory  (13th  September 
1797)  the  advantage  which  might  be  deriv- 
ed from  seizing  upon  Malta,  which  he  rep- 
resented as  an  easy  prize.  The  knights,  he 
said,  were  odious  to  the  Maltese  inhabitants, 
and  were  almost  starving;  to  augment 
which  state  of  distress,  and  increase  that 
incapacity  of  defence,  he  had  already  con- 
fiscated their  Italian  property.  He  then 
proceeded  to  intimate,  that  being  possessed 
of  Corfu  and  Malta,  it  was  natural  to  take 
possession  of  Egypt.  Twenty-five  thou- 
sand men,  with  eisjlitorten  ships  of  the 
line,  would  be  sufficient  for  the  expedition 
which  he  suggested  might  depart  from  the 
coasts  of  Italy. 

Talleyrand,  then  minister  for  foreign  af- 
fairs, (in  his  answer  of  23d  September,) 
saw  the  utmost  advantage  in  the  design  up- 
on Egypt,  which,  as  a  colony,  would  attract 
the  commerce  of  India  to  Europe,  in  pref- 
erence to  the  circuitous  route  by  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope.  This  correspondence  proves 
that  even  before  Buonaparte  left  Italy,  he 
had  conceived  the  idea  of  the  Egyptian  ex- 
pedition, though  probably  only  as  one  of  the 
vast  and  vague  schemes  of  ambition  which 
success  in  so  many  perilous  enterprises  had 
tended  to  foster.  There  was  something  of 
wild  grandeur  in  the  idea,  calculated  to 
please  an  ambitious  imagination.  He  was 
to  be  placed  far  l>eyiu\(l  the  reach  of  any 
command  superior  to  his  own,  and  left  at 
his  own  discretion  to  the  extending  con- 
quests, and  perhrqjs  founding  au  empire,  in 
a  country  lonir  considered  as  the  cradle  of 
knowledge,  and  celebrated  in  sacred  and 
profane  history  as  having  been  the  scene 
of  ancient  oventr-  and  distant  revolutions, 
which,  through  the  remoteness  of  ages, 
possess  a  gloomy  and  mysterious  effect  on 
the  fancy.  The  lirst  specimens  of  early 
art  also  were  to  be  found  amon;.'  the  gigan- 
tic ruins  of  Egypt,  and  its  time-defying 
tnonuments  of  antiquity.  This  had  its  ef- 
fect upon  Buonaparte,  who  affected  eo  par- 


ticularly  the  species  of  fame  which  attaches 
to  tlie  ])rotector  and  extender  of  science, 
philosophy,  and  the  fine  arts.  On  this  sub- 
ject he  had  a  ready  and  willing  counsellor 
at  hand.  Monge,  the  artist  and  virtuoso, 
was  Buonaparte's  confidant  on  this  occa- 
sion, and  there  is  no  doubt  encouraged  him 
to  an  undertaking  which  promised  a  rich 
harvest  to  the  antiquarian,  among  the  ruins 
of  temples  and  palaces,  hitherto  imperfect- 
ly examined. 

But  although  the  subject  was  mentioned 
betwixt  the  Directory  and  their  ministers 
and  Buonaparte,  yet  before  adopting  the 
course  which  the  project  opened,  the  gen- 
eral was  probably  determined  to  see  the  is- 
sue of  the  revolution  of  the  18th  Fructidor; 
doubting,  not  unreasonably,  whether  the 
conquerors  in  that  struggle  could  so  far 
avail  themselves  of  the  victory  which  they 
had  obtained  over  the  majority  of  the  Na- 
tional Representatives,  as  to  consolidate 
and  establish  on  a  firm  foundation  their 
own  authority.  He  knew  the  Directory 
themselves  were  popular  witli  none.  The 
numerous  party,  who  were  now  inclined  to 
a  monarchical  government,  regarded  them 
with  horror.  The  army,  though  supporting 
them  rather  than  coalesce  with  the  Royal- 
ists, despised  and  disliked  them  ;  the  vio- 
lent Republicans  remembered  their  active 
share  in  Robespierre's  downfall,  and  the 
condemnations  which  followed  ttie  detect- 
ed conspiracy  of  Babreuf,  and  were  in  no 
respect  better  disposed  to  their  domination. 
Thus  despised  by  the  army,  dreaded  by  the 
Royalists,  and  detested  by  the  Republicans, 
the  Directorial  government  a[)peared  to  re- 
main standing,  only  because  the  factions  to 
whom  it  was  unacceptable  were  afraid  of 
each  Other's  attaining  a  superiority  in  the 
struggle,  which  must  attend  its  downfall. 

This  crisis  of  public  affairs  was  a  tempt- 
ing opportunity  for  such  a  character  as 
Buonaparte,  whose  almost  incredible  suc- 
cesses, unvaried  by  a  single  reverse  which 
deserved  that  name,  naturally  fixed  the 
eyes  of  the  multitude,  and  indeed  of  the 
nation  at  large,  upon  him,  as  upon  one  who 
seemed  destined  to  play  the  most  distin- 
guished part  in  any  of  those  new  changes, 
which  the  mutable  state  of  the  French  gov- 
ernment seemed  rapidly  preparing. 

The  people,  naturally  partial  to  a  victor, 
followed  him  everywhere  with  acclama- 
tions, and  his  soldiers,  in  their  camp-songs, 
spoke  of  pulling  the  attorneys  out  of  the 
seat  of  government,  and  installing  their  vic- 
torious general.  Even  already,  ^or  the  first 
time  since  the  commencement  of  the  Revo- 
lution, the  French,  losing  their  recent  habits 
of  thinking  and  speaking  of  the  nation  as  a 
body,  began  to  interest  themseives  in  Na- 
poleon as  an  individual ;  and  that  exclusive 
esteem  of  his  person  had  already  taken  root 
in  the  public  mind,  which  afterwards  form- 
ed the  foundation  of  his  throne. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  these  promising  appeau-- 
ances.  Napoleon,  cautious  as  well  as  enter- 
prising, saw  that  the  time  was  not  arrived 
when  he  could,  without  great  risk,  attempt 
to  possess  himself  of  the  supreme  govern- 
ment ib  France.     The  aoldier*  of  Italy 


■  Chap.  XXX.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


289 


■were  indeed  at  his  devotion,  but  there  was 
another  great  and  rival  army  belonging  to 
the  Republic,  that  of  the  Rhine,  which  had 
never  been  under  his  command,  never  had 
partaken  his  triumphs,  and  which  naturally 
looked  rather  to  .Moreau  than  to  Buonaparte 
as  their  general  and  hero. 

Madame  de  Stael  describes  the  soldiers 
from  these  two  armies,  as  resembling  each 
other  in  nothing  save  the  valour  which  was 
common  to  both.  The  troops  of  the  Rhine, 
returning  from  hard-fought  fields,  which,  if 
followed  by  victory,  had  afforded  but  little 
plunder,  ejiibited  still  the  severe  simplici- 
ty which  had  been  affected  under  the  re- 
Eablican  model ;  whereas  the  army  of  Italy 
ad  reaped  richer  spoils  than  barren  laurels 
alone,  and  made  a  display  of  wealth  and 
enjoyment  which  showed  they  had  not  neg- 
lected their  own  interest  while  advancing 
the  banners  of  France. 

It  was  not  likely,  while  such  an  army  as 
that  of  the  Rhine  existed,  opposed  by  rival- 
ry and  the  jealousy  of  fame  to  the  troops 
of  Buonaparte,  that  the  latter  should  have 
succeeded  in  placing  himself  at  the  head 
of  affairs.  Besides,  the  forces  on  which  he 
could  depend  were  distant.  Fortune  had 
not  afforded  him  the  necessary  pretext  for 
crossing,  as  he  termed  it,  the  Rubicon,  and 
bringing  twenty  thousand  men  to  Lyons. 
Moreau,  Jourdan,  Kleber,  had  all  high  rep- 
utations, scarce  inferior  to  his  own;  and 
the  troops  who  had  served  under  them 
were  disposed  to  elevate  them  even  to  an 
equality  with  the  Conqueror  of  Italy. 
Buonaparte  also  knew  that  his  popularity, 
though  great,  was  not  universal.  He  was 
disliked  by  the  middle  classes,  from  rec- 
ollection of  his  commanding  during  the  af- 
fair of  the  Sections  of  Paris  ;  and  many  of 
the  Republicans  exclaimed  against  him  for 
his  surrendering  Venice  to  the  Austrians. 
In  a  word,  he  was  loo  much  elbowed  and 
incommoded  by  others  to  permit  his  taking 
with  full  vigour  the  perilous  spring  neces- 
sary to  place  him  in  the  seat  of  supreme 
authority,  though  there  were  not  wanting 
those  who  would  fain  have  persuaded  him 
to  venture  on  a  course  so  daring.  To  such 
counsellors  lie  answered,  that  "  the  fruit 
vfas  not  ripe." — a  hint  which  implied  that 
appetite  was  not  wanting,  though  prudence 
forbade  the  banquet. 

Laying  aside,  therefore,  the  character  of 
General  of  the  Army  of  England,  and  ad- 
journing to  a  future  day  the   conquest  of 
that  hostile  island ;  silencing  at  the  same 
time  the   internal  wishes  and  the  exterior 
temptations  which  urged  him  to  seize  the 
supreme   power,  which  seemed  escaping 
from  those   who  held  it.  Napoleon  turned 
his  eyes  and  thought*  eastward,  and  medi-  | 
tated  in  the  distant  countries  of  the  rising  I 
sun,  a  scene  worthy  his  talents,  his  military  I 
skill,  and  his  ambition.  | 

The  Directory,  on  the  other  hand,  eager 
to  rid  themselves  of  his  perilous  vicinity,  i 
hastened  to  accomplish  the  means  of  his  ' 
expedition  to  Egypt,  upon  a  scale  far  more  I 
formidable  than  any  which  had  yet  sailed  i 
from  modern  Europe,  for  the  invasion  and  ' 
subjection  of  distant  and  peaceful  realms  ' 
Vofc.  f.  N 


I  It  was  soon  whispered  abroad  that  the 
'  invasion  of  England  was  to  be  postponed, 
;  until  the  Conqueror  of  Italy,  having  attain- 
ed a  great  and  national  object,  by  the  suc- 
cess of  a  secret  expedition  fitted  out  on  a 
scale  of  stupendous  magnitude,  should  be 
at  leisure  to  resume  the  conquest  of  Brit- 
ain. 

But  Buonaparte  did  not  limit  his  views 
to  those  of  armed  conquest;  he  meant  that 
these  should  be  softened  by  mingling  with 
them  schemes  of  a  literary  and  scientific 
character,  as  if  he  had  desired,  as  some  one 
said,  that  Minerva  should  march  at  the  head 
of  his  expedition,  holding  in  one  hand  her 
dreadful  lance,  and  vnth  the  other  introduc- 
ing the  sciences  and  the  muses.  The  vari- 
ous treasures  of  art  which  had  been  trans 
ferred  to  the  capital  by  the  influence  of  his 
arms,  gave  the  general  of  the  Italian  army 
a  right  to  such  distinctions  as  the  French 
men  of  literature  could  confer  ;  and  he  was 
himself  possessed  of  deep  scientific  knowl- 
edge as  a  mathematician.  He  became  ap- 
parently much  attached  to  learned  pursuits, 
and  wore  the  uniform  of  the  Institute  on  all 
occasions  when  he  was  out  of  military  cos- 
tume. This  affectation  of  uniting  the  en- 
couragement of  letters  and  science  with 
his  military  tactics,  led  to  a  new  and  pe- 
culiar branch  of  the  intended  expedition. 

The  public  observed  with  astonishment 
a  detachment  of  no  less  than  one  hundred 
men,  who  had  cultivated  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences, or,  to  use  the  French  phrase,  savants, 
selected  for  the  purpose  of  joining  this  mys- 
terious expedition,  of  which  the  object  still 
remained  a  secret;  while  all  classes  of 
people  asked  each  other  what  new  quarter 
of  the  world  France  had  determined  to  col- 
onize, since  she  seemed  preparing  at  once 
to  subdue  it  by  her  arms,  and  to  enrich  it 
with  the  treasures  of  her  science  and  litera- 
ture. This  singular  department  of  the  ex- 
pedition, the  first  of  the  kind  which  ever 
accompanied  an  invading  army,  was  liber- 
ally supplied  with  books,  philosophical  in- 
struments, and  all  means  of  prosecuting 
the  several  departments  of  knowledge. 

Buonaparte  did  not,  however,  trust  to  the 
superiority  of  science  to  ensure  the  con- 
quest of  Egypt.  He  was  fully  provided  with 
more  effectual  means.  The  land  forces  be- 
longing to  the  expedition  were  of  the  most 
formidable  description.  Twenty-five  thou- 
sand men,  chiefly  veterans  selected  from 
his  own  It.alian  army,  had  in  their  list  of 
generals  subordinate  to  Buonaparte  the 
names  of  KJeber,  Dessaix,  Berthier.  Reg- 
nier,  Murat,  Lannes,  Andreossi.  Menou, 
Belliard,  and  others  well  known  in  the  rev- 
olution.iry  wars.  Four  hundred  transports 
were  assembled  for  the  conveyance  of  the 
troops.  Thirteen  ships  of  the  line,  and  four 
frigates,  commanded  by  Admiral  Brueyes, 
an  experienced  and  gallant  officer,  formed 
the  escort  of  the  expedition ;  a  finer  and 
more  formidable  one  than  which  never  sail- 
ed on  so  bold  an  adventure. 

We  have  already  tou-ched  upon  the  secret 
objects  of  this  armament.  The  Directory 
were  desirous  to  be  rid  of  Buonaparte,  who 
might  become  a  dangerous  competitor  in 


290 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXX. 


the  present  unsettled  state  of  the  Frencli 
f^overnnient.  Buonaparte,  on  his  side,  ac- 
<:e])ted  the  command,  because  it  opened  a 
scene  ot' conquest  wortliy  of  his  ambition. 
A  separate  and  uncontrolled  command  over 
so  gallant  an  army  seemed  to  promise  him 
the  conquest  and  the  sovereignty,  not  of 
Egypt  only,  but  of  Syria,  Turkey,  perhaps 
Constantinople,  the  Queen  of  the  East ; 
and  he  himself  afterwards  more  than  hinted, 
that  but  for  controlling  circumstances,  he 
would  have  bent  his  whole  mind  to  the  es- 
tablishment of  an  oriental  dynasty,  and  left 
France  to  her  own  destinies.  When  a  sub- 
altern officer  of  artillery,  he  had  nourished 
the  hope  of  being  King  of  Jerusalem.  In 
his  present  situation  of  dignity  and  strength, 
the  sovereignty  of  an  Emperor  of  the  uni- 
versal East,  or  of  a  Caliph  of  Egypt  at  the 
»  least,  was  a  more  commensurate  object  of 
ambition. 

The  private  motives  of  the  government 
and  of  the  general  are  therefore  easily  esti- 
mated. But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  justify  the 
Egyptian  expedition  upon  any  views  of 
sound  national  policy.  On  the  contrary,  the 
object  to  be  gained  by  so  much  risk,  and  at 
the  same  time  by  an  act  of  aggression  upon 
the  Ottoman  Forte,  the  ancient  ally  of 
France,  to  whom  Egypt  belonged,  was  of 
very  doubtful  utility.  The  immense  fertil- 
ity of  the  alluvial  provinces  irrigated  by  the 
Nile,  no  doubt  renders  their  sovereignty  a 
matter  of  great  consequence  to  the  Turkish 
empire,  which,  from  the  oppressed  state  of 
their  agriculture  everywhere,  and  from  the 
rocky  and  barren  character  of  their  Grecian 
provinces,  are  not  in  a  condition  to  supply 
the  capital  with  grain,  did  they  not  draw  it 
from  that  never-failing  land.  But  France 
herself,  fully  supplied  from  her  own  re- 
sources, had  no  occasion  to  send  her  best 
general,  and  hazard  her  veteran  army,  for 
the  purpose  of  seizing  a  distant  province, 
merely  to  facilitate  her  means  of  feeding 
her  population.  To  erect  that  large  country 
into  a  French  colony,  would  have  required 
a  drain  of  population,  of  expense,  and  of 
supplies  of  all  sorts,  which  France,  just  re- 
covering from  the  convulsion  of  her  revolu- 
tion, was  by  no  means  fit  to  encounter.  The 
climate,  too,  is  insalubrious  to  strangers, 
and  must  have  been  a  constant  cause  of 
loss,  until,  in  process  of  time,  the  colo- 
nists had  become  habituated  to  its  peculiar- 
ities. It  is  farther  to  be  considered,  that 
the  most  perfect  and  absolute  success  in 
the  undertaking,  must  have  ended,  not  in 
giving  a  province  to  the  French  Republic, 
but  a  separate  and  independent  kingdom  to 
her  victorious  and  ambitious  general.  Buo- 
naparte had  paid  but  slight  attention  to  the 
commands  of  the  Directory  when  in  Italy. 
Had  he  realized  his  proposed  conquests  in 
the  east,  they  would  have  been  sent  over 
the  Mediterranean  altogether  in  vain. 

Lastly,  the  state  of  war  with  England  sub- 
jected this  attempt  to  add  Egypt  to  the 
French  dominions,  to  the  risk  of  defeat, 
either  by  the  naval  strength  of  Britain  inter- 
posing between  France  and  her  new  pos- 
sessions, or  by  her  land  forces  from  India 
and  Europe,  making  a  combined  attack 


upon  the  French  army  which  occupied 
Egypt ;  both  which  events  actually  came 
to  pass. 

It  is  true,  that,  so  far  from  dreading  the 
English  forces  which  were  likely  to  be  em- 
ployed against  them,  the  French  regarded 
as  a  recommendation  to  the  conquest  of 
Egypt,  that  it  was  to  be  the  first  step  to  the 
destruction  of  the  British  power  in  India ; 
and  Napoleon  continued  to  the  last  to  con- 
sider the  conquest  of  Egypt  as  the  forerun- 
ner of  that  of  universal  Asia.  His  eye, 
which,  like  that  of  the  eagle,  saw  far  and 
wide,  overlooking,  however,  obstacles 
which  distance  rendered  diminutive,  be- 
held little  more  necessary  than  the  toilsome 
marches  of  a  few  weeks,  to  achieve  the 
conquests  of  Alexander  the  Great.  He  had 
already  counted  the  steps  by  which  he  was 
to  ascend  to  Oriental  monarchy,  and  has 
laid  before  the  world  a  singular  reverie  on 
the  probabilities  of  success.  "  If  Saint 
John  d'Acre  had  yielded  to  the  French 
arms,"  said  he,  "  a  great  revolution  would 
have  been  accomplished  in  the  East  5  the 
general-in-chief  would  have  founded  an 
empire  there,  and  the  destinies  of  France 
would  have  undergone  different  combina- 
tions from  those  to  which  they  were  sub- 
jected." 

In  this  declaration  we  recognize  one  of 
the  peculiarities  of  Buonaparte's  disposi- 
tion, which  refused  to  allow  of  any  difficul- 
ties or  dangers  save  those,  of  which,  having 
actually  happened,  the  existence  could  not 
be  disputed.  The  small  British  force  be- 
fore Acre  was  sufficient  to  destroy  his 
whole  plans  of  conquest ;  but  how  man} 
other  means  of  destruction  might  Provi- 
dence have  employed  for  the  same  pur- 
pose !  The  plague — the  desert — mutiny 
among  his  soldiers — courage  and  enterprise, 
inspired  by  favourable  circumstances  into 
the  tribes  by  whom  his  progress  was  oppos- 
ed— the  computation  of  these,  and  other 
chances,  ought  to  have  taught  him  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  he  had  not  been  discomfit- 
ed by  the  only  hazard  which  could  have 
disconcerted  his  enterprise ;  but  that,  had 
such  been  the  will  of  God,  the  sands  of 
Syria  might  have  proved  as  fatal  as  the 
snows  of  Russia,  and  the  scimitars  of  the 
Turks  as  the  lances  of  the  Cossacks.  In 
words,  a  march  from  Egypt  to  India  is  easi- 
ly described,  and  still  moi;e  easily  measured 
off"  with  compasses  upon  the  map  of  the 
world.  But  in  practice,  and  with  an  army 
opposed  as  the  French  would  probably  have 
been  at  every  step,  if  it  had  been  only  from 
motives  of  religious  antipathy,  when  the 
French  general  arrived  at  the  skirts  of  Brit- 
ish India,  with  forces  thus  diminished,  he 
would  have  had  in  front  the  whole  British 
army,  commanded  by  generals  accustomed 
to  make  war  upon  a  scale  almost  as  enlarg- 
ed as  he  himself  practised,  and  accustomed 
to  victories  not  less  decisive. 

We  should  fall  into  the  same  error 
which  we  censure,  did  we  anticipate  what 
might  have  been  the  result  of  such  a  meet- 
ing. Even  while  we  claim  the  probability 
of  advantage  for  the  army  most  numerous, 
and  best  provided  with  guns  and  stores,  we 


Chap.  XXX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


291 


allow  the  strife  must  have  been  dreadful 
and  dubious.  But  if  Napoleon  really 
thought  he  had  only  to  show  himself  in  In- 
dia, to  ensure  the  destruction  of  the  Brit- 
ish empire  there,  he  had  not  calculated  the 
opposing  strength  with  the  caution  to  have 
been  expected  from  so  great  a  general. 
He  has  been  represented,  indeed,  as  boast- 
ing of  the  additions  which  he  would  have 
made  to  his  army,  by  the  co-operation  of 
natives  trained  after  the  French  discipline. 
But  can  it  be  supposed  that  these  hasty  le- 
vies could  be  brought  into  such  complete 
order  as  to  face  the  native  troops  of  Brit- 
ish India,  so  long  and  sojustly  distinguish- 
ed for  approaching  Europeans  in  courage 
and  discipline,  and  excelling  them  perhaps 
in  temperance  and  subordination  ? 

In  a  word,  the  Eg}'plian  expedition,  un- 
less considered  with  reference  to  the  pri- 
vate views  of  the  Directory,  and  of  their 
general,  must  have  been  regai-ded  from  the 
beginning,  as  promising  no  results  in  the 
slightest  degree  worthy  of  the  great  risk 
incurred,  by  draining  France  of  the  flower 
of  her  army. 

Meanwhile,  the  moment  of  departure  ap- 
proached. The  blockading  squadron,  com- 
manded by  Nelson,  was  blown  off  the  coast 
by  a  gale  of  wind,  and  so  much  damaged 
that  they  were  obliged  to  run  down  to  Sar- 
dinia. The  first  and  most  obvious  obstacle 
to  the  expedition  was  thus  removed.  The 
various  squadrons  from  Genoa,  Civita  Vec- 
chia,  and  Bastia,  set  sail  and  united  with 
that  which  already  lay  at  Toulon. 

Yet  it  is  said,  though  upon  slender  au- 
thority, that  even  at  this  latest  moment 
Buonaparte  showed  some  inclination  to 
abandon  the  command  of  so  doubtful  and 
almost  desperate  an  expedition,  and  wished 
10  take  the  advantage  of  a  recent  dispute 
between  France  and  Austria,  to  remain  in 
Europe.  The  misunderstanding  arose  from 
the  conduct  of  Bernadotte,  ambassador  for 
the  Republic  at  Vienna,  who  incautiously 
displayed  the  national  colours  before  his 
hotel,  in  consequence  of  which  a  popular 
tumult  arose,  and  the  ambassador  was  in- 
sulted. In  their  first  alarm,  lest  this  inci- 
dent should  occasion  a  renewal  of  the  war, 
the  Directory  hastily  determined  to  suspend 
Buonaparte's  departure,  and  despatch  him 
to  Rastadt,  where  the  congress  was  still  sit- 
ting, with  full  powers  to  adjust  the  differ- 
ence. Buonaparte  accepted  the  commis- 
eon,  and  while  he  affected  to  deplore  the 
delay  or  miscarriage  of  "  the  greatest  enter- 
prise which  he  had  ever  meditated,"  wrote 
in  secret  to  Count  Cobentzel,  now  minister 
of  foreign  affairs  at  Vienna,  inviting  him  to 
a  conference  at  Rastadt,  and  hinting  at  po- 
litical changes,  by  which  the  difficulties  at- 
tending the  execution  of  the  treaty  of  Cam- 
po  Formio  might  be  taken  away.  The  ten- 
or of  this  letter  having  become  known  to 
the  Directory,  and  it  appearing  to  them  that 
Buonaparte  designed  to  make  that  mission  a 
pretext  for  interesting  Cobentzel  in  some 
change  of  government  in  France,  in  which 
he  deemed  it  advisable  to  obtain  the  con- 
currence of  Austria,  they  instantly  resolv- 
ed, it  is  said,  to  compel  nin)  to  set  sail  on 


the  expedition  to  Egypt.  Barras,  cnarged 
with  the  commission  of  notifying  to  the 
general  this  second  alteration  of  his  desti- 
nation, had  an  interview  with  Buonaparte 
in  private,  and  at  his  own  house.  The  mien 
of  the  Director  was  clouded,  and,  contrary 
to  his  custom,  he  scarcely  spoke  to  Madame 
Buonaparte.  When  he  retired,  Buona- 
parte shut  himself  up  in  his  own  apartment 
for  a  short  time,  then  gave  directions  for 
his  instant  departure  from  Paris  for  Toulon. 
Tliese  particulars  are  given  as  certain  by 
Miot  ;*  but  he  alleges  no  authority  for 
this  piece  of  secret  history.  There  seems, 
however,  little  doubt,  that  the  command  of 
the  Egyptian  expedition  was  bestowed  on 
Buonaparte  by  the  Directory  as  a  species 
of  ostracism,  or  honourable  banishment 
from  France. 

At  the  moment  of  departure,  Buonaparte 
made  one  of  those  singular  harangues, 
which  evince  such  a  mixture  of  talent  and 
energy  with  bad  taste  and  bombast.  He 
promised  to  introduce  those  who  had  war- 
red on  the  mountains  and  in  the  plains,  to 
maritime  combat ;  and  to  a  great  part  of 
the  expedition  he  kept  his  word  too  truly, 
as  Aboukir  could  witness.  He  reminded 
them  that  the  Romans  combated  Carthage 
by  sea  as  well  as  land — he  proposed  to  con- 
duct them,  in  the  name  of  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty,  to  the  most  distant  regions  and 
oceans,  and  he  concluded  by  promising  to 
each  individual  of  his  army  seven  acres  of 
land.  Whether  this  distribution  of  proper- 
ty was  to  take  place  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile,  of  the  Bosphorus,  or  the  Ganges,  the 
soldiers  had  not  the  most  distant  guess,  and 
the  commander-in-chief  himself  would  have 
had  difficulty  in  informing  them. 

On  the  19th  of  May  1793,  this  magnifi- 
cent armament  set  sail  from  Toulon,  illu- 
minated by  a  splendid  sun-rise,  one  of  those 
which  were  afterwards  popularly  termed 
the  suns  of  Napoleon.  The  liue'-of-battle 
ships  extended  for  a  league,  and  the  semi- 
circle formed  by  the  convoy  was  at  least 
six  leagues  in  extent.  They  were  joined 
on  the  8th  June,  as  they  swept  along  the 
Mediterranean,  by  a  large  fleet  of  trans- 
ports, having  on  board  the  division  of  Gen- 
eral Dessaix. 

The  10th  June  brought  the  armament  be- 
fore Malta,  once  the  citadel  of  Christen- 
dom, and  garrisoned  by  those  intrepid 
knights,  who,  half  warriors  and  half  priests, 
opposed  the  infidels  with  the  enthusiasm 
at  once  of  religion  and  of  chivalry.  But 
those  by  whom  the  Order  was  now  maintain- 
ed were  disunited  among  themselves,  lazy 
and  debauched  voluptuaries,  who  consum- 
ed the  revenues  destined  to  fit  out  expedi- 
tions against  the  Turks  in  cruises  for  plea- 
sure, not  war,  and  giving  balls  and  enter- 
tainments in  the  seaports  of  Italy.  Buona- 
parte treated  these  degenerate  knights  with 
a  want  of  ceremony,  which,  however  little 
it  accorded  with  the  extreme  strength  «f 
their  island,  and  with  the  glorious  defence 
which  it  had  formerly  made  against  the  in- 

*  Memoires  pour  servir  h  I'HIstoirB  ileu  Expedi- 
tions eu  Egypt  et  en  Syrie.    lalroduction,  p.  x» 


292 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOiN  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXX. 


fidcls,  was  perfectly  suited  to  their  present 
condition.  Secure  of  a  party  among  the 
French  knights,  with  whom  he  liad  been 
tampering,  he  landed  troops,  and  took  pos- 
session of  these  almost  impregnable  for- 
tresses with  so  little  opposition,  that  Caffa- 
relli  said  to  Napoleon,  as  they  passed 
through  the  most  formidable  defences, — "  It 
is  well,  general,  that  there  was  some  one 
within  to  open  the  gates  to  us.  We  should 
have  had  more  trouble  in  entering,  if  the 
place  had  been  altogether  empty." 

A  sufficient  garrison  was  established  in 
Malta,  destined  by  Buonaparte  to  be  an  in- 
termediate station  between  France  and 
Egypt;  and  on  the  19th,  the  daring  general 
resumed  his  expedition.  On  the  coast  of 
Candia,  while  the  savants  were  gazing  on 
the  rocks  where  Jupiter,  it  is  said,  was  nur- 
tured, and  speculating  concerning  the  exist- 
ence of  some  vestiges  of  the  celebrated 
Labyrinth,  Buonaparte  learned  that  a  new 
enemy,  of  a  different  description  from  the 
Knights  of  Saint  John,  were  in  his  im- 
mediate vicinity.  This  was  the  English 
squadron. 

Nelson,  to  the  end  as  unconquerable  on 
his  own  element  as  Buonaparte  had  hither- 
to shown  himself  upon  shore,  was  now  in 
full  and  anxious  pursuit  of  his  renowned 
contemporary.  Reinforced  by  a  squadron 
of  ten  ships  of  the  line,  a  meeting  with 
Napoleon  was  the  utmost  wish  of  his  heart, 
and  was  echoed  back  by  the  meanest  sailor 
on  board  his  numerous  fleet.  The  French 
had  been  heard  of  at  Malta,  but  as  the  Brit- 
ish Admiral  was  about  to  proceed  thither, 
he  received  news  of  their  departure  ;  and 
concluding  that  Egypt  must  be  unquestion- 
ably the  object  of  their  expedition,  he 
made  sail  for  Egypt.  It  singularly  happen- 
ed, that  although  Nelson  anticipated  the 
arrival  of  the  French  at  Alexandria,  and 
accordingly  directed  his  course  thither,  yet, 
keeping  a  more  direct  path  than  Brueyee, 
Avhen  he  arrived  there  on  the  28th  June, 
he  heard  nothing  of  the  enemy,  who,  in 
the  meanwhile,  were  proceeding  to  the  very 
same  port.  The  English  admiral  set  sail, 
therefore,  for  Rhodes  and  Syracuse ;  and 
thus  were  the  two  large  and  hostile  fleets 
traversing  the  same  narrow  sea,  without 
•being  able  to  attain  any  certain  tidings  of 
each  other's  movements.  This  was  in  part 
owing  to  the '  English  Admiral  havii^  no 
frigates  with  him,  which  might  have  been 
detached  to  cruise  for  intelligence  ;  partly 
to  a  continuance  of  thick  misty  weather, 
vvhich  at  once  concealed  the  French  fleet 
from  their  adversaries,  and,  obliging  them 
to  keep  clo§e  together,  diminished  the 
chance  of  discovery,  which  might  otherwise 
have  taken  place  by  the  occupation  of  a 
larger  space.  On  the  26th,  according  to 
Denon,  Nelson's  fleet  was  actually  seen  by 
the  French  standing  to  the  westward,  al- 
though the  haze  prevented  the  English 
from  observing  their  enemy,  whose  squad- 
ron held  an  opposite  direction. 

Escaped  from  the  risk  of  an  encounter 
so  perilous,  Buonaparte's  greatest  danger 
seemed  to  be  over  on  the  29th  June,  when 
the  French  fleet  came  in  sight  of  Alexandria, 


and  saw  before  them  the  city  of  the  Plolomies 
and  of  Cleopatra,  with  its  double  harbour,  its 
Pharos  and  its  ancient  and  gigantic  monu- 
ments of  grandeur.  Yet  at  this  critical  mo- 
ment, and  while  Buonaparte  contemplated 
his  meditated  conquest,  a  signal  announced 
the  appearance  of  a  strange  sail,  which  was 
construed  to  be  an  English  frigate,  the  pre- 
cursor of  the  British  fleet,  "  What !"  said 
Napoleon,  '•  I  ask  but  six  hours — and,  For- 
tune, wilt  thou  abandon  me  ?"  The  fickle 
goddess  was  then  and  for  many  a  succeeding 
year,  true  to  her  votary.  The  vessel  prov- 
ed friendly. 

The  disembarkation  of  the  French  army 
took  place  about  a  league  and  a  half  from 
Alexandria,  at  an  anchorage  called  Mara- 
bout. It  was  not  accomplished  without  los- 
ing boats  and  men  on  the  surf,  though  such 
risks  were  encountered  with  great  joy  by  the 
troops,  who  had  been  so  long  confined  on 
shipboard.  As  soon  as  five  or  six  thousand 
men  were  landed,  Buonaparte  marched  to- 
wards Alexandria,  when  the  Turks,  incens- 
ed at  this  hostile  invasion  on  the  part  of  a 
nation  with  whom  they  were  at  profound 
peace,  shut  the  gates,  and  manned  the  walls 
against  their  reception.  But  the  walls  were 
ruinous,  and  presented  breaches  in  many 
places,  and  the  chief  weapons  of  resistance 
were  musketry  and  stones.  The  Conquer- 
ors of  Italy  forced  their  passage  over  such 
obstacles,  but  not  easily  or  with  impunity. 
Two  hundred  French  were  killed.  There 
was  severe  military  execution  done  upcm  the 
garrison,  and  the  town  was  abandoned  to 
plunder  for  three  hours  ;  which  has  been 
justly  stigmatized  as  an  act  of  unnecessary 
cruelty,  perpetrated  only  to  strike  terror, 
and  extend  the  fame  of  the  victorious 
French  general.  But  it  was  Napoleon's  ob- 
ject to  impress  the  highest  idea  of  his  pow- 
er upon  the  various  classes  of  natives,  who, 
differing  widely  from  each  other  in  manners 
and  condition,  inhabit  Egypt  as  their  com- 
mon home. 

These  classes  are,  1st,  the  Arab  race, 
divided  into  Fellahs  and  Bedouins,  the  most 
numerous  and  least  esteemed  of  the  popu- 
lation. The  Bedouins,  retaining  the  man- 
ners of  Arabia  Proper,  rove  through  the 
Desert,  and  subsist  by  means  of  their  flocks 
and  herds.  The  Fellahs  cultivate  the  earth, 
and  are  the  ordinary  peasants  of  the  country. 

The  class  next  above  the  Arabs  in  consid- 
eration are  the  Cophts,  supposed  to  be  de- 
scended from  the  pristine  Egyptians.  They 
profess  Christianity,  are  timid  and  unwar 
like,  but  artful  and  supple.  They  are  em 
ployed  in  the  revenue,  and  in  almost  all 
civil  offices,  and  transact  the  commerce  and 
the  business  of  the  country. 

The  third  class  in  elevation  were  the 
formidable  Mamelukes,  who  held  both 
Cophts  and  Arabs  ill  profound  subjection. 
These  are,  or  we  may  say  were,  a  corps  of 
professed  soldiers,  having  no  trade  except- 
ing war.  In  this  they  resemble  the  Janissa- 
ries, tlie  Strelitzes,  the  Praetorian  Bands,  or 
similar  military  bodies,  which,  constituting 
a  standing  army  under  a  despotic  govern- 
ment, are  alternately  the  protectors  and  the 
terror  of  the  sovereigpn  who' is  their  nomi- 


Cl«p.  xxx.^ 


LIFE  OF  jNAPOLEON  PUONAPARTE. 


29a 


nal  commander.  But  the  peculiar  feature 
of  the  constitution  of  the  Mauielulves, 
was,  that  their  corps  was  recruited  only  by 
the  adoption  of  foreign  slaves,  particularly 
Georgians  and  Circassians.  These  were 
purchased  when  children  by  the  several 
Beys,  or  Mameluke  leaders,  who,  twenty- 
four  in  number,  occupied,  each,  one  of  the 
twenty-four  departments  into  which  they 
had  divided  Egypt.  'I'he  youtiiful  slave, 
purchased  with  a  heedful  reference  to  his 
strength  and  personal  appearance,  was  care- 
fully trained  to  arms  in  the  family  of  his 
master.  When  created  a  Aiamelukc,  he 
was  received  into  the  troop  of  the  Bey,  and 
rendered  capable  of  succeeding  to  him  at 
his  death  ;  for  these  chiefs  despised  the  or- 
dinary conne-xions  of  blood,  and  their  au- 
thority was,  upon  military  principles,  trans- 
ferred at  their  death  to  him  smongst  the 
band  who  was  accounted  the  best  soldier. 
They  fought  always  on  horseback  5  and  in 
their  peculiar  mode  of  warfare,  they  might 
be  termed,  individually  considered,  the  fin- 
est cavalry  in  the  world.  Completely  arm- 
ed, and  unboundedly  confident  m  their  own 
prowess,  they  were  intrepid,  skilful,  and 
formidable  in  battle  ;  but  with  their  military 
bravery  began  and  ended  the  catalogue  of 
their  virtues.  Their  vices  were,  unpitying 
cruelty,  habitual  oppression,  and  the  unlim- 
ited exercise  of  the  most  gross  and  disgust- 
ing sensuality.  Such  were  the  actual  lords 
of  Egypt. 

Yet  the  right  of  sovereignty  did  not  rest 
with  the  Beys,  but  with  the  Pacha,  or  Lieu- 
tenant,— a  great  officer  despatched  from  the 
Porte  to  represent  the  Grand  Seignior  in 
Egypt,  where  it  was  his  duty  to  collect  the 
tribute  in  money  and  grain,  which  Constan- 
tinople expected  from  that  rich  province, 
with  the  additional  object  of  squeezing  out 
of  the  country  as  much  more  as  he  could  by 
any  means  secure,  for  the  filling  of  his  own 
coffers.  The  Pacha  maintained  his  author- 
ity sometimes  by  the  assistance  of  Turkish 
troops,  sometimes  by  exciting  the  jealousy 
of  one  Bey  against  another.  Thus  this  fer- 
tile country  was  subjected  to  the  oppression 
of  twenty-four  praetors,  who,  whether  they 
agreed  among  tnemselves,  or  with  the  Pa- 
cha, or  declared  war  against  the  represen- 
tative of  the  Sultan,  and  against  each  other, 
were  alike  the  terror  and  the  scourge  of  the 
unhappy  Arabs  and  Cophts,  the  right  of  op- 
pressing whom  by  every  species  of  exaction, 
these  haughty  slaves  regarded  as  their  no- 
blest and  most  undeniable  privilege. 

From  the  moment  that  Buonaparte  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  invading  Egypt,  the  de- 
struction of  the  power  of  the  Mamelukes 
must  have  been  determined  upon  as  his 
first  object ;  and  he  had  no  sooner  taken  Al- 
exandria than  he  announced  his  purpose. 
He  sent  forth  a  proclamation,  in  which  he 
professed  his  respecl  for  God,  the  Proph- 
et, and  the  Koran ;  his  friendship  for  the 
Sublime  Porte,  of  which  he  affirmed  the 
French  to  be  the  faithful  allies ;  and  his  de- 
termination to  make  war  upon  the  Mame- 
lukes. He  commanded  that  the  prayers 
should  be  continued  in  the  mosques  as  us- 
ml,  with  some  slight  modifications,  and 


that  all  true  Moslems  should  exclaim, 
"  Cilory  to  the  Sultan,  and  to  the  French 
army,  his  allies  1 — Accursed  be  the  Mame- 
lukes, and  good  fortune  to  the  land  of 
Egypt !'' 

Upon  the  7th  July  the  army  marched 
from  .\le.\andria  against  the  Mamelukes. 
Their  course  was  up  the  Nile,  and  a  small 
flotilla  of  gun-boats  ascended  the  river  to 
protect  their  right  flank,  while  the  infantry 
traversed  a  desert  of  burning  sands,  at  a 
distance  from  the  stream,  and  without  a 
drop  of  water  to  relieve  their  tormenting 
thirst.  The  army  of  Italy,  accustomed  to 
the  enjoyments  of  that  delicious  country, 
were  astonished  at  the  desolation  they  saw 
around  them.  ''  Is  this,"  they  said,  "  the 
country  in  which  we  are  to  receive  our 
farms  of  seven  acres  each  ?  The  General 
might  have  allowed  us  to  take  as  much  as 
we  chose — no  one  would  have  abused  the 
privilege."  Their  officers,  too,  expressed 
horror  and  disgust ;  and  even  generals  of 
such  celebrity  as  Murat  and  Lannes  threw 
their  hats  on  the  sand,  and  trod  on  their 
cockades.  It  required  all  Buonaparte's  au- 
thority to  maintain  order,  so  much  were 
the  French  disgusted  with  the  commence- 
ment of  the  expedition. 

To  add  to  their  embarrassment,  the  ene- 
my began  to  appear  around  them.  Mame- 
lukes and  Arabs,  concealed  behind  the  hil- 
locks of  sand,  interrupted  their  march  at 
every  opportunity,  and  woo  to  the  soldier 
who  straggled  from  the  ranks,  were  it  but 
fifty  yards.  Some  of  these  horsemen  were 
sure  to  dash  at  him,  slay  him  on  the  spot, 
and  make  off  before  a  musket  could  be  dis- 
charged at  them.  At  length,  however,  the 
audacity  of  these  incursions  was  checked 
by  a  skirmish  of  some  little  importance'', 
near  a  place  called  Chehrheis,  in  which  the 
French  asserted  their  military  superiority. 

An  encounter  also  took  place  on  the  riv- 
er, between  the  French  flotilla  and  a  num- 
ber of  armed  vessels  belonging  to  the  Mam- 
elukes. Victory  first  inclined  to  the  latter, 
but  at  length  determined  in  favour  of  the 
French,  who  took,  however,  only  a  single 
galliot. 

Meanwhile,  the  French  were  obliged  to 
march  with  the  utmost  precaution.  The 
whole  plain  was  now  covered  with  Mame- 
lukes, mounted  on  the  finest  Arabian  horses, 
and  armed  with  pistols,  carabines,  and  blun- 
derbusses, of  the  best  English  workman- 
ship— their  plumed  turbans  waving  in  the 
air,  and  their  rich  dresses  and  arms  glitter- 
ing in  the  sun.  Entertaining  a  high  cen- 
tempt  for  the  French  force,  as  consisting 
almost  entirely  of  infantry,  this  splendid 
barbaric  chivalry  watched  every  opportunity 
for  charging  them,  nor  did  a  single  straggler 
escape  the  unrelenting  edge  of  their  sabres. 
Their  charge  was  almost  as  swift  as  the 
wind,  and  as  their  severe  bits  enabled  them 
to  halt,  or  wheel  their  horses  at  full  gallon, 
their  retreat  was  as  rapid  as  their  advance. 
Even  the  practised  veterans  of  Italy  were 
at  first  embarrassed  by  this  new  mode  of 
fighting,  and  lost  several  men  5  especially 
when  fiitigue  caused  any  one  to  fall  out  of 
the  ranks,   in  which  case  his  fate  became 


294 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXX. 


certain.  But  they  were  soon  reconciled  to 
fighting  the  Mamelukes,  when  they  dis- 
covered that  each  of  these  horsemon  carried 
about  him  his  fortune,  and  that  it  not  un- 
commonly amounted  to  considerable  sums 
in  gold. 

During  these  alarms,  the  French  love  of 
the  ludicrous  was  not  abated  by  the  fatigues 
or  dangers  of  the  journey.  The  savants 
had  been  supplied  witli  asses,  the  beasts  of 
burden  easiest  attained  in  Egypt,  to  trans- 
port their  persons  and  philosophical  appa- 
ratus. The  General  had  given  orders  to 
attend  to  their  personal  safety,  which  were 
of  course  obeyed.  But  as  these  civilians 
had  little  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the 
military,  loud  shouts  of  laughter  used  to 
burst  from  the  ranks,  while  Terming  to  re- 
ceive the  Mamelukes,  as  the  general  of 
division  called  out,  with  military  precision, 
"  Let  the  asses  and  the  savants  enter  within 
the  square."  The  soldiers  also  amused 
themselves  by  calhng  the  asses  demi-sa- 
vants.  In  times  of  discontent,  these  unlucky 
servants  of  science  had  their  full  share  of 
the  soldiers'  reproaches,  who  imagined, 
that  this  unpopular  expedition  had  been 
undertaken  to  gratify  their  passion  for  re- 
searches, in  which  the  military  took  very 
slender  interest. 

Under  such  circumstances,  it  may  be 
doubted  whethei  even  the  literati  them- 
selves were  greatly  delighted,  when,  after 
seven  days  of  such  marches  as  we  have 
described,  they  arrived  indeed  within  six 
leagues  of  Cairo,  and  beheld  at  a  distance 
the  celebrated  Pyramids,  but  learned  at  the 
same  time,  that  Murad  Bey,  with  twenty- 
two  of  his  brethren,  at  the  head  of  their 
Mamelukes,  had  formed  an  entrenched 
camp  at  a  place  called  Embabeh,  with  the 
purpose  of  covering  Cairo,  and  giving  bat- 
tle to  the  French.  On  the  21st  of  July,  as 
the  French  continued  to  advance,  they  saw 
their  enemy  in  the  field,  and  in  full  force. 
A  splendid  line  of  cavalry,  under  Murad  and 
the  other  Beys,  displayed  the  whole  strength 
of  the  Mamelukes.  "Their  right  rested  on 
the  imperfectly  entrenched  camp,  in  which 
lay  twenty  thousand  infantry,  defended  by 
forty  pieces  of  cannon.  But  the  infantry 
were  an  undisciplined  rabble ;  the  guns, 
wanting  carriages,  were  mounted  on  clumsy 
wooden  frames;  and  the  fortifications  of 
the  camp  were  but  commenced,  and  pre- 
sented no  formidable  opposition.  Buona- 
parte made  his  dispositions.  He  extendec 
his  line  to  the  right,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
keep  out  of  gun-shot  of  the  entrenched 
camp,  and  have  only  to  encounter  the  line 
of  cavalry. 

Murad  Bey  saw  this  movement,  and, 
fully  aware  of  its  consequence,  prepared  to 
charge  with  his  magnificent  body  of  horse, 
declaring  he  would  cut  the  French  up  like 
gourds.  Buonaparte,  as  he  directed  the 
infantry  to  form  squares  to  receive  them, 
called  out  to  his  men,  "  From  yonder  Pyra- 
mids twenty  centuries  behold  your  actions." 
The  Mamelukes  advanced  with  the  utmost 
speed,  and  corresponding  fury,  and  charged 
with  horrible  yells.  They  disordered  one 
of  the  French  squares  of  infantry,  which 


would  have  been  sabred  in  an  instant,  but 
that  the  mass  of  this  fiery  militia  was  a  lit- 
tle behind  the  advanced  guard.  The  French 
had  a  moment  to  restore  order,  and  used  it. 
The  combat  then  in  some  degree  resembled 
that  which,  nearly  twenty  years  afterwards, 
took  place  at  Waterloo  ;  the  hostile  cavalry 
furiously  charging  the  squares  of  infantry, 
and  trying,  by  the  most  undaunted  efforts 
of  courage,  to  break  in  upon  them  at  every 
practicable  point,  while  a  tremendous  fire 
of  musketry,  grape-shot,  and  shells,  cross- 
ing in  various  directions,  repaid  their  au- 
dacity. Nothing  in  war  was  ever  seen  more 
desperate  than  the  exertions  of  the  Mame- 
lukes. Failing  to  force  their  horses  through 
the  French  squares,  individuals  were  seen 
to  wheel  them  round  and  rein  them  back 
on  the  ranks,  that  they  might  disorder  them 
bv  kicking.  As  they  became  frantic  with 
diespair,  they  hurled  at  the  immovable 
phalanxes,  which  they  could  not  break,  their 
pistols,  their  poniards,  and  their  carabines. 
Those  who  fell  wounded  to  the  ground, 
dragged  themselves  on,  to  cut  at  the  legs 
of  the  French  with  their  crooked  sabres. 
But  their  efforts  were  all  in  vain. 

The  Mamelukes,  after  the  most  courage- 
ous efforts  to  accomplish  their  purpose, 
were  finally  beaten  off  with  great  slaughter  ; 
and  as  they  could  not  form  or  act  in  squad- 
ron, their  retreat  became  a  confused  flight. 
The  greater  part  attempted  to  return  to 
their  camp,  from  that  sort  of  instinct,  as 
Napoleon  termed  it,  which  leads  fugitives 
to  retire  in  the  same  direction  in  which 
they  had  advanced.  By  taking  this  route 
they  placed  themselves  betwixt  the  French 
and"  the  Nile  ;  and  the  sustained  and  in- 
supportable fire  of  the  former  soon  obliged 
them  to  plunge  into  the  river,  in  hopes  to 
escape  by  swimming  to  the  opposite  bank — 
a  desperate  effort,  in  which  few  succeeded. 
Their  infantry  at  the  same  time  evacuated 
their  camp  without  a  show  of  resistance, 
precipitated  themselves  into  the  boats,  and 
endeavoured  to  cross  the  Nile.  Very  many 
of  these  also  were  destroyed.  The  French 
soldiers  long  afterwards  occupied  them- 
selves in  fishing  for  the  drowned  Mame- 
lukes, and  failed  not  to  find  money  and 
valuables  upon  all  whom  they  could  re- 
cover. Murad  Bey,  with  a  part  of  his  best 
Mamelukes,  escaped  the  slaughter  by  a 
mere  regular  movement  to  the  left,  and  re- 
treated by  Gizeh  into  Upper  Egypt. 

Thus  were  in  a  great  measure  destroyed 
the  finest  cavalry,  considered  as  individual 
horsemen,  that  were  ever  known  to  exist. 
"  Could  I  have  united  the  Mameluke  horse 
to  the  French  infantry,"  said  Buonaparte, 
"  I  would  have  reckoned  myself  master  of 
the  world."  The  destruction  of  a  body 
hitherto  regarded  as  invincible,  struck  ter- 
ror, not  thr'ough  Egypt  only,  but  far  into 
Africa  and  Asia,  wherever  the  Moslem  re- 
ligion prevailed  ;  and  the  rolling  fire  of 
musketry  by  which  the  victory  was  achiev- 
ed, procured  for  Buonaparte  the  oriental 
appellation,  of  Sultan  Kebir,  or  King  of 
Fire. 

.\fter  this  combat,  which,  to  render  it 
more  striking  to  the  Parisians,  Buonaparta 


Chap.  XXXI.]        LIFE  OF  N.\POLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


29.- 


tenned  the  "  Battle  of  the  Pyramids,"  Cairo 
surrendered  without  resistance.  The  shat- 
tered remains  of  the  Mamelukes  who  had 
Bwam  the  iS'ile  and  united  under  Ibrahim 
Bey,  were  compelled  to  retreat  into  Syria. 
A  party  of  three  hundred  French  cavalry 
ventured  to  attack  them  at  Salahieh,  but 
■were  severely  handled  by  Ibrahim  Bey  and 
bis  followers,  who,  having  cut  many  of  them 


to  pieces,  pursued  their  retreat  without 
farther  interruption.  Lower  Egypt  was 
completely  in  the  hands  of  the  F'rench,  and 
thus  far  the  expedition  of  Buonaparte  had 
been  perfectly  successful.  But  it  was  not 
the  will  of  Heaven,  that  even  the  most  for- 
tunate of  men  should  escape  reverses,  and 
a  severe  one  awaited  Napoleon. 


CHAP.  XXXI. 

French  Naval  Squadron. — Conjiicting  Statements  of  Buonaparte  and  Admiral  Ganthe- 
aume  in  regard  to  it. — Battlk  of  Abol'kik  on  \st  Aiigust  1793. — Aumber  and  Posi- 
tion of  the  Enemy,  and  of  the  English — Particulars  of  the  Action. —  The  French  Ad- 
miral, Brueyes,  killed,  ajid  his  ship,  L'  Orient .  bloicn  up. —  The  Victory  complete,  two 
only  of  the  French  Fleet,  and  two  Frigates,  escaping  on  the  morning  of  the  2d. — Ef- 
fects of  this  disaster  on  the  French  Army. — Means  by  which  Napoleori  proposed  to 
establish  himself  in  Egypt. — His  Administra'Aon  in  many  respects  useful  and  praise- 
worthy—in  others,  his  Conduct  impolitic  and  absurd. — He  desires  to  be  regarded  an 
Envoy  of  the  Deity,  but  xcithoul  tuccess.—His  endeavours  equally  unsuccessful  to 
propitiate  the  Porte. —  The  Fort  of  El  Arish  falls  into  his  hands. — Massacre  of  Jaffa 
— Admitted  by  Buonaparte  himself— His  arguments  xnits  defence — Replies  to  them — 
General  Conclusions. — Plague  breaks  out  in  the  Frenth  Army. — Napoleon's  humanity 
and  courage  upon  this  occasion. — Proceeds  against  Acre  to  attack  Djezzar  Pacha. — 
Sir  Sidney  Smith — His  character — Captures  a  French  Convoy,  and  throics  himself 
into  Acre. — French  arrive  before  Acre  ov.  \~ith  March  1799,  and  effect  a  breach  on  the 
2Sth,  but  are  driven  back. — Assaulted  by  an  Army  of  Moslems  of  various  Xations  as- 
sem  led  without  the  Walls  of  Acre,  whom  Vmy  defeat  and  disperse. — Interesting  par- 
ticulars of  the  Siege. — Personal  misunderstanding  and  hostility  beticixt  Napoleon 
and  Sir  Sidney  Smith — explained  arid  accounted  for. — Buonaparte  is  finally  compel- 
led to  raise  the  Siege  and  retreat. 


When  Buonaparte  and  his  army  were  safe- 
ly landed  in  Egypt,  policy  seemed  to  de- 
mand that  the  naval  squadron,  by  which 
they  had  been  escorted,  should  have  been 
sent  back  to  France  as  soon  as  possible. 
The  French  leader  accordingly  repeatedly 
asserts,  that  he  had  positively  commanded 
Admiral  Brueyes,  an  excellent  officer,  for 
whom  he  himself  entertained  particular 
respect,*  either  to  carry  his  squadron  of 
men-of-war  into  the  harbour  of  Alexandria, 
or,  that  being  found  impossible,  instantly  to 
set  sail  for  Corfu.  The  harbour,  by  report 
of  the  Turkish  pilots,  was  greatly  too  shal- 
low to  admit  without  danger  vessels  of  such 
a.  deep  draught  of  water;  and  it  scarce  can 
be  questioned  that  Admiral  Brueyes  would 
have  embraced  the  alternative  of  setting 
sail  for  Corfu,  had  such  been  in  reality  per- 
mitted by  his  orders.  But  the  assertion 
of  Buonaparte  is  pointedly  contradicted  by 
the  report  ef  Vice-.\dmiral  Gantheaume, 
who  was  himself  in  the  battle  of  Aboukir, 
escaped  from  the  slaughter  with  difficulty, 
and  was  intrusted  by  Buonaparte  with 
drawing  up  the  account  of  the  disaster, 
which  he  transmitted  to  the  minister  of  war. 
"  Perhaps  it  may  be  said,"  so  the  despatch 
bears,  "  that  it  would  have  been  advisable 
to  have  quitted  the  coast  as  soon  as  the 


*  In  a  letter  published  in  the  Moniteur,  No.  90, 
I'an  6,  Buonaparte  expresses  the  highest  sense  of 
Admiral  Brueyes'  firmness  and  talent,  as  well  as 
of  the  high  order  in  which  he  kept  the  squadron 
luxier  bii  command  ;  and  concludes  by  saying,  he 
had  bejtowed  on  him,  in  the  name  of  the  Directo- 
ry, a  spy-glaaa  of  tha  barf  coogtruction  which  Ita- 
ly afforded. 


disembarkation  had  taken  place.  Bat  con- 
sidering the  orders  qf  the  commander-in- 
chief,  and  the  incalculable  force  afforded  to 
the  land-army  by  the  presence  of  the  squad- 
ron, the  admiral  thought  it  was  his  duty  not 
to  quit  these  seas." 

Looking  at  the  matter  more  closely — con- 
sidering the  probability  of  Nelson's  return, 
and  the  consequent  danger  of  the  fleet — 
considering,  too,  the  especial  interest  which 
naval  and  military  officers  attach  each  to 
their  peculiar  service,  and  the  relative  dis- 
regard with  which  they  contemplate  the 
other,  we  can  see  several  .sasons  why  Buo- 
naparte might  have  wished,  even  at  some 
risk,  to  detain  the  fleet  on  the  coast  of 
Egypt,  but  not  one  which  could  induce 
Brueyes  to  continue  there,  not  only  with- 
out the  consent  of  the  commander-in-chief, 
but,  as  Napoleon  afterwards  alleged,  against 
his  express  orders.  It  is  one  of  the  cases 
in  which  no  degree  of  liberality  can  enable 
us  to  receive  the  testimony  of  Buonaparte, 
contradicted  at  once  by  circumstances,  and 
by  the  positive  testimony  of  Gantheaume. 

We  now  approach  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant actions  of  the  English  navy,  achieved 
by  the  Admiral  whose  exploits  so  indisput- 
ably asserted  the  right  of  Britain  to  the  do- 
minion of  the  ocean.  Our  limits  require 
that  we  should  state  but  briefly  a  tale,  at 
which  every  heart  in  our  islands  will  long 
glow  ;  and  we  are  the  more  willingly  con- 
cise that  our  readers  possess  it  at  length  in 
one  of  the  best-written  popular  histories  in 
the  English  language.* 


•  Mr.  Southey's  "  Life  of  Admiral  Nelson  ;"  in 


296 


Although  unable  to  enter  the  harbour  of 
Alexandria,  the  French  admiral  believed  his 
equadron  safely  moored  in  the  celebrated 
Bay  of  Aboukir.  They  formed  a  compact 
line  of  battle,  of  a  semi-circular  form,  an- 
chored so  close  to  the  shoal-water  and  surf, 
tliat  it  was  thought  impossible  to  get  be- 
tween them  and  the  land ;  and  they  con- 
cluded, therefore,  that  tliey  could  be  brought 
to  action  on  the  starboard  side  only.  On 
the  1st  August  the  British  fleet  appeared; 
and  Nelson  had  no  sooner  reconnoitred  the 
French  position  than  he  resolved  to  force  it 
at  every  risk.  Where  the  French  ships 
could  ride,  he  argued  with  instantaneous 
decision,  there  must  be  room  for  English 
vessels  to  anchor  between  them  and  the 
shore.  He  made  signal  for  the  attack  ac- 
cordingly. As  the  vessels  approached  the 
French  anchorage,  they  received  a  heavy 
and  raking  fire,  to  which  they  could  make 
no  return ;  but  they  kept  their  bows  to  the 
enemy,  and  continued  to  near  their  line. 
The  squadrons  were  nearly  of  the  same  nu- 
merical strength.  The  French  had  thirteen 
ships  of  the  line  and  four  frigates.  The 
English,  tliirteen  ships  of  the  line,  and  one 
50  gun  ship.  But  the  French  had  three  80 
gun  ships,  and  L  'Orient,  a  superb  vessel  of 
120  guns.  All  the  British  were  seventy- 
fours.  The  van  of  the  English  fleet,  six  in 
number,  rounded  successively  the  French 
line,  and  dropping  anchor  betwixt  them  and 
the  shore,  opened  a  tremendous  fire.  Nel- 
son himself,  and  his  other  vessels,  ranged 
along  the  same  French  ships  on  the  outer 
Bide,  and  thus  placed  them  betwixt  two 
fires  ;  while  the  rest  of  the  French  line  re- 
mained for  a  time  unable  to  take  a  share  in 
the  combat.  The  battle  commenced  with 
the  utmost  fury,  and  lasted  till,  the  sun  hav- 
ing set,  and  the  night  fallen,  there  was  no 
light  by  which  the  combat  could  be  contin- 
ued, save  the  flashes  of  the  continuous 
broadsides.  Already,  however,  some  of  the 
French  vessels  were  taken,  and  the  victors, 
advancing  onwards,  assailed  those  which 
had  not  yet  been  engaged. 

Meantime  a  bi  jad  and  dreadful  light  was 
thrown  on  the  scene  of  action,  by  the  break- 
ing out  of  a  conflagration  on  board  tlie 
French  admirad's  flag-ship,  L'Orient.  Bru- 
cyes  himself  had  by  this  time  fallen  by  a 
cannon-shot.  The  flames  soon  mastered 
tie  immense  vessel,  where  the  carnage  was 
EO  terrible  as  to  prevent  all  attempts  to  ex- 
tinguish them;  and  the  L'Orient  remained 
blazing  like  a  volcano  in  the  middle  of  the 
combat,  rendering  for  a  time  the  dreadful 
fcpectacle  visible. 

At  length,  and  while  the  battle  continued 
as  furious  as  ever,  the  burning  vessel  blew 
up  with  so  tremendous  an  explosion,  tliat 
for  a  while  it  silenced  the  fire  on  both  sides, 
and  made  an  aw.ul  pause  in  the  midst  of 
what  had  been  but  lately  so  horrible  a  tu- 
mult. The  cannonade  was  at  first  slowly 
and  partially  resumed,  but  ere  midnight  it 
raged  with  all  its  original  fury.  In  the  morn- 


whichone  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  genius 
and  learning  which  our  ago  has  produced,  ha^  re- 
corded the  actions  of  the  greatest  naval  hero  that 
ever  existed. 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        {Chap.  XXXI  i 

ing  the  only  two  French  ships  who  bad 
their  colours  flying,  cut  their  cables  and  put 
to  sea,  accompanied  by  two  frigates ;  being 
all  that  remained  undestroyed  and  uncap- 
tured,  of  the  gallant  navy  that  so  lately  es- 
corted Buonaparte  and  his  fortunes  in  tri- 
umph across  the  Mediterranean. 

Such  was  the  victory  of  Aboukir,  for 
which  he  who  achieved  it  felt  that  word 
was  inadequate.  He  called  it  a  conquest. 
The  advantages  of  the  day,  great  as  they 
were,  might  have  been  pushed  much  far- 
ther, if  Nelson  had  been  possessed  of  frig- 
ates and  small  craft.  The  store-ships  and 
transports  in  the  harbour  of  Alexandria 
would  then  have  been  infallibly  destroyed. 
As  it  was,' the  results  were  of  the  utmost 
importance,  and  the  destinies  of  the  French 
army  were  altered  in  proportion.  They  had 
no  longer  any  means  of  communicating  with 
the  mother-country,  but  became  the  inhab- 
itants of  an  insulated  province,  obliged  to 
rely  exclusively  on  the  resources  which 
they  had  brought  with  them,  joined  to  those 
which  Egypt  might  afford. 

Buonaparte,  however  surprised  by  this 
reverse,  exhibited  great  equanimity.  Three 
thousand  French  seamen,  the  remainder 
of  nearly  six  thousand  engaged  in  that 
dreadful  battle,  were  sent  ashore  by  cartel, 
and  formed  a  valuable  addition  to  his  forc- 
es. Nelson,  more  grieved  almost  at  being 
frustrated  of  his  complete  purpose,  than  re- 
joiced at  his  victory,  left  the  coast  after  es- 
tablishing a  blockade  on  the  port  of  Alex- 
andria. 

We  are  now  to  trace  the  means  by  which 
Napoleon  proposed  to  establish  and  con- 
solidate his  government  in  Egypt;  and  in 
these  we  can  recognize  much  that  was 
good  and  excellent,  mixed  with  such  ir- 
regularity of  imagination,  as  vindicates 
the  term  of  Jupiter  Scapin,  by  which  the 
Abbe  de  Pradt  distinguished  this  extraor- 
dinary man. 

His  first  care  was  to  gather  up  the  reins 
of  government,  such  as  they  were,  which 
had  dropt  from  the  hands  of  the  defeated 
Beys.  With  two  classes  of  the  Egyptian 
nation  it  w.is  easy  to  establish  his  authority. 
The  Fellahs,  or  peasantry,  sure  to  be 
squeezed  to  the  last  penny  by  one  party  or 
other,  willingly  submitted  to  the  invaders 
as  the  strongest,  and  the  most  able  to  pro- 
tect them.  The  Cophts,  or  men  of  busi- 
ness, were  equally  ready  to  serve  the  party 
which  was  in  possession  of  the  country.  So 
that  the  French  became  the  masters  of 
both,  as  a  natural  consequence  of  the  power 
which  they  had  obtained. 

But  the  Turks  were  to  be  attached  to 
the  conqueror  by  other  means,  since  their 
haughty  national  character,  and  the  intoler- 
ance of  the  Mahommedan  religion,  rendered 
thera  alike  inaccessible  to  profit,  the  hope 
of  which  swayed  the  Cophts,  and  to  fear, 
which  wan  the  prevailing  argument  with 
the  Fellahs.  To  gratify  their  vanity,  and 
soothe  their  prejudices,  seemed  the  only 
mode  by  which  Napoleon  could  insinuate 
himself  into  the  favour  of  this  part  of  the 
population.  With  this  view,  Buonaparte 
was  far  from  assuming  a  title  of  conquest  in 


f  Chap.  XXXI.]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


297 


Egypt,  though  he  left  few  of  its  rights  unex- 
ercised. On  the  contrary,  he  wisely  con- 
tinued to  admit  the  Pacha  to  that  ostensible 
share  of  authority  which  was  yielded  to  him 
by  the  Beys,  and  spoke  with  as  much  seem- 
ing respect  of  the  Sublime  Porte,  as  if  it 
had  been  his  intention  ever  again  to  permit 
their  having  any  effective  power  in  Egyjit. 
Their  Imaums,  or  priests ;  their  Ulemats, 
or  men  of  law;  their  Cadis,  or  judges; 
their  Sheiks,  or  chiefs  ;  their  Janissaries, 
or  privileged  soldiers,  were  all  treated  by 
Napoleon  with  a  certain  degree  of  attention, 
and  the  Sultan  Kebir,  as  they  called  him, 
affected  to  govern,  like  the  Grand  Seignior, 
by  the  intervention  of  a  Divan. 

This  general  council  consisted  of  about 
forty  Sheiks,  or  Moslems  of  distinction  by 
birth  or  office,  who  held  their  regular  meet- 
ings at  Cairo,  and  from  which  body  ema- 
nated the  authority  of  provincial  divans,  es- 
tablished in  the  various  departments  of 
Egypt.  Napoleon  affected  to  consult  the 
superior  council,  and  act  in  many  cases  ac- 
cording to  their  report  of  the  law  of  the 
Prophet.  On  one  occasion,  he  gave  them 
a  moral  lesson  which  it  would  be  great  in- 
justice to  suppress.  A  tribe  of  roving  .\rabs 
nad  slain  a  peasant,  and  Buonaparte  had 
given  directions  to  search  out  and  punish 
the  murderers.  One  of  his  Oriental  coun- 
sellors laughed  at  the  zeal  which  the  Gen- 
eral manifested  on  so  slight  a  cause. 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  the  death  of 
this  Fellah,  Sultan  Kebir?"  said  he  ironic- 
ally ;  "  was  he  your  kinsman  ?" 

"  He  was  more,"  said  Napoleon ; "  He  was 
one  for  whose  safety  I  am  accountable  to 
God,  who  placed  him  under  my  govern- 
ment." 

"  He  speaks  like  an  inspired  person  I'" 
exclaimed  the  Sheiks  ;  who  can  admire  the 
beauty  of  a  just  sentiment,  though  incapa- 
ble, from  the  scope  they  allow  their  pas- 
sions, to  act  up  to  the  precepts  of  moral 
rectitude. 

Thus  far  the  conduct  of  Buonaparte  was 
admirable.  He  protected  the  people  who 
were  placed  under  his  power,  he  respected 
their  religious  opinions,  he  administered 
justice  to  them  according  to  their  own  laws, 
until  they  should  be  supplied  with  abetter 
system  of  legislation.  Unquestionably,  his 
good  administration  did  not  amend  the  rad- 
ical deficiency  of  his  title ;  it  w;is  still 
chargeable  against  him,  tiiat  he  had  invad- 
ed the  dominions  of  the  most  ancient  ally 
of  France,  at  a  time  when  tliere  was  the 
most  profound  peace  between  the  coun- 
tries. Yet  in  delivering  Egypt  from  the 
tyrannical  sway  of  the  Mamelukes,  and  ad- 
ministering the  government  of  the  country 
with  wisdom  and  comparative  humanity,  the 
mode  in  which  he  used  the  pov.er  which  he 
had  acquired,  miglit  be  admitted  in  some 
measure  to  atone  for  liis  usurpation.  Not 
contented  with  directing  his  soldiers  to 
hold  in  respect  the  religious  observances 
of  the  country,  he  showed  equal  justice  and 
policy  in  collecting  and  protecting  the  scat- 
tered remains  of  the  great  caravan  of  the 
Mecca  pilgrimage,  which  had  been  plun- 
dered by  the  Mamelukes  on  their  retreat. 
Vot,  I.  N  2 


So  satisfactory  was  his  conduct  to  the  Mos- 
lem divmes,  that  he  contrived  to  obtain 
from  the  clergy  of  the  Mosque  an  opinion, 
declaring  that  it  was  lawful  to  pa^  tribute 
to  the  French,  though  such  a  doctrme  is  di- 
ametrically inconsistent  with  the  Koran. 
Thus  far  Napoleon's  measures  had  proved 
rational  and  successful.  But  with  this  laud- 
able course  of  conduct  was  mixed  a  species 
of  artifice,  which,  while  we  are  compelled 
to  term  it  impious,  has  in  it,  at  the  same 
time,  something  ludicrous,  and  almost 
childish. 

Buonaparte  entertained  the  strange  idea 
of  persuading  the  Moslems  that  he  himself 
pertained  in  some  sort  to  their  religion,  be- 
ing an  envoy  of  the  Deity,  sent  on  earth, 
not  to  take  away,  but  to  confirm  and  com- 
plete, the  doctrines  of  the  Koran,  and  the 
mission  of  Mahomet.  He  used,  in  execut- 
ing this  purpose,  the  inflated  language  of 
the  East,  the  more  easily  that  it  corres- 
ponded, in  its  allegorical  and  amplified 
style,  with  his  own  natural  tone  of  compo- 
sition; and  he  hesitated  not  to  join  in  the 
external  ceremonial  of  the  Mahommedan  re- 
ligion, that  his  actions  might  seem  to  con- 
firm his  words.  The  French  general  cele- 
brated the  feast  of  the  Prophet  as  it  recur- 
red, with  some  .Sheik  of  eminencCj  and 
joined  in  the  litanies  and  worship  enjoined 
by  the  Koran.  He  affected,  too,  the  lan- 
guage of  an  inspired  follower  of  the  faith  of 
^lecca,  of  which  the  following  is  a  curious 
example. 

On  entering  the  sepulchral  chamber  in 
the  pyramid  of  Cheops,  "  Glory  be  to  .\l- 
lah,"  said  Buonaparte,  "  there  is  no  God 
but  God,  and  Mahommed  is  his  prophet." 
A  confession  of  faith  which  is  in  itself  a 
declaration  of  Islamism. 

"  Thou  hast  spoken  like  the  most  learned 
of  the  prophets,"  said  the  Mufti,  who  ac- 
companied him. 

"  I  can  command  a  car  of  fire  to  descend 
from  heaven,"  continued  the  French  gene- 
ral, "  and  I  can  guide  and  direct  its  course 
upon  earth." 

'■'  Thou  art  the  great  chief  to  whom  Ma- 
hommed gives  power  and  victory,"  said  the 
Mufti. 

Napoleon  closed  the  conversation  with 
this  not  very  pertinent  oriental  proverb, 
"  The  bread  which  the  wicked  seizes  upon 
by  force,  shall  be  turned  to  dust  in  his 
mouth." 

Though  the  Mufti  played  his  part  in  the 
above  scene  with  becoming  gravity,  Buona- 
parte over-estimated  his  own  theatrical 
powers,  and  did  too  little  justice  to  the 
shrewdness  of  the  Turks,  if  he  supposed 
them  really  edified  by  his  pretended  pros- 
elytism.  With  them  as  with  us,  a  renegade 
from  the  religious  faith  in  which  he  was 
brought  up,  is  like  a  deserter  from  the 
standard  of  his  countrj' ;  and  though  the 
1  services  of  either  may  be  accepted  and  us- 
1  ed,  they  remain  objects  of  disregard  and 
i  contempt,  as  well  with  those  to  whoso  ser- 
vice they  have  deserted,  as  with  the  party 
I  whom  they  have  abandoned. 
'  The  Turks  and  Arabs  of  Cairo  soon  afler- 
i  wards  showed  Buonaparte,  by  a  general  and 


298 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXI. 


unexpected    insurrection  in  which  many 
Frenchmen  were    slain,   how   little    they 
were  moved  by  his  pretended  attachment 
to  their  faith,  and  how  cordially  they  consid- 
ered him  as  their  enemy.    Yet,  when  the 
insurgents  had  been  quelled  by  force,  and 
the  blood  of  five  thousand  Moslems   had 
atoned  for  that  of  three  hundred  French- 
men, Napoleon,  in  an  address  to  the  inhab- 
itants of  Cairo,  new-modelling  the  general 
council,  or  divan,  held  still  the  same  lan- 
guage as  before  of  himself  and  his  destinies. 
■'■  Sheriffs,"  he  said,  "  Ulemats,  Orators  of 
the  Mosque,  teach  the  people  that  those 
who  become   my  enemies  shall   have  no 
refuge  either  in  this  world  or  the  ne.\t.     Is 
there  any  one  blind  enough  not  to  see  that 
I  am  the  agent  of  Destiny,  or  incredulous 
enough  to  call  in  question  the  power  of 
Destiny  over  human   affairs  ?      Make  the 
j.eople  understand  that  since  the  world  was 
a  world,  it  was  ordained,  that  having  de- 
stroyed the  enemies  of  Islamism,  and  broken 
down  the  Cross,*  I  should  come  from  the 
distant  parts  of  the  West  to  accomplish  the 
task  designed  for  me — show  them,  that  in 
more  than  twenty  passages  of  the  Koran 
my  coming  is  foretold.     I  could  demand  a 
reckoning  from  each  of  you  for  the  most 
secret  thoughts  of  his  soul,  since  to  me  ev- 
erything is  known ;  but  the  day  will  come 
when  all  shall  know  from  whom  I  have  my 
commission,  and  that  human  efforts  cannot 
prevail  against  me." 

It  is  plain  from  this  strange  proclamation, 
that  Buonaparte  was  willing  to  be  worship- 
ped as  a  superior  being,  as  soon  as  altars 
could  be  built,  and  worshippers  collected 
together.  But  the  Turks  and  Arabs  were 
wiser  than  the  Persians  in  the  case  of 
young  Ammon.  The  Sheik  of  Alexandria, 
who  affected  much  devotion  to  Buona- 
parte's person,  came  roundly  to  the  point 
with  him.  He  remarked  the  French  ob- 
served no  religious  worship.  "  Why  not, 
therefore,"  he  said,  "declare  yourself  Mos- 
lem at  once,  and  remove  the  only  obstacle 
betwixt  you  and  the  throne  of  the  East  ?" 
Buonaparte  objected  the  prohibition  of 
wine,  and  the  external  rite  which  Mahom- 
med  adopted  from  the  Jewish  religion. 
The  officious  Sheik  proposed  to  call  a 
Council  of  the  Moslem  sages,  and  procure 
for  the  new  proselytes  some  relaxation  of 
these  fundamental  laws  of  the  Prophet's 
faith.  According  to  this  hopeful  plan  the 
Moslems  must  have  ceased  to  be  such  in 
two  principal  articles  of  their  ritual,  in  or- 
der to  induce  the  French  to  become  a  kind 
of  imperfect  renegades,  rejectins^,  in  the 
prohibition  of  wine,  the  only  peculiar  guard 
which  Maliommed  assigned  to  the  moral 
virtue  of  his  followers,  while  they  embrac- 
ed the  degrading  doctrine  of  fatality,  the 
licentious  practice  of  polygamy,  and  the 
absurd  chimeras  of  the  Koran. 

.Napoleon  appears  to  have  believed  the 
Sheik  serious,  which  is  very  doubtful,  and 
to  hdve  contemplated  with  eager  ambition 

*  AHudin;  to  the  capture  of  the  isiland  of  .Malta, 
and  subjection  of  the  Pope,  on  which  lie  was  wont 
to  found  as  services  tendered  to  the  religion  of  Ma- 
liommed 


the  extent  of  views  which  his  conversion  to 
Islamism  appeared  to  open.  His  own  belief 
in  predestination  recommended  the  creed 
of  Mahommed,  and  for  the  Prophet  of  Mec- 
ca himself  he  had  a  high  respect,  as  one  of 
those  who  had  wrought  a  great  and  endur- 
ing change  on  the  face  of  the  world.    Per- 
haps he  envied  the  power  which  Mahom- 
med possessed,  of  ruling  over  men's  souls 
as  well  as  their  bodies,  and  might  thence 
have  been  led  into  the  idea  of  playing  a 
part,  to  which  time  and  circumstances,  the 
character  of  his  army  and  his  own,  were 
alike  opposed.    No  man  ever  succeeded  in 
imposing  himself  on  the  public  4s  a  super- 
natural personage,  who  was  not  to  a  certain 
degree  the  dupe  of  his  own  imposture;  and 
Napoleon's  calculating  and  reflecting  mind 
was  totally  devoid  of  the  enthusiasm  which 
enables  a  man  to  cheat  himself  into  at  least 
a  partial   belief  of  the   deceit  which   he 
would  impose  on  others.    The  French  sol- 
diers, on  the  other  hand,  bred  in  scorn  of 
religion  of  every  description,  would  have 
seen  nothing  but  ridicule  in  the  pretensions 
of  their  leader  to  a  supernatural  mission; 
and  in  playing  the  character  which  Alexan- 
der   ventured    to    personate,    Buonaparte 
would  have  found  in  his  own  army  many  a 
Clitus,  who  would  have  considered  his  pre- 
tensions as  being  only  ludicrous.    He  him- 
self,   indeed,  expressed    himself  satisfied 
that  his  authority  over  his  soldiers  was  so 
absolute,  that  it  would  have  cost  but  giving 
it  out  in  the  order  of  the  day  to  have  made 
them  all  become  Mahommedans  ;  but,  at 
the  same  time,  he  has  acquainted  us,  that 
the  French  troops  were  at  times  so  much 
discontented  with  their  condition  in  Egypt, 
that  they   formed  schemes  of  seizing  on 
their  standards,  and  returning  to  France  by 
force.    What  reply,  it  may  be  reasonably 
asked,  were  they  likely  to  make  to  a  propo- 
sal, which  would  have  deprived  them  of 
their  European  and  French  character,  and 
levelled  them  with  Africans  and  Asiatics, 
whose  persons  they  despised,  and  whose 
country  they  desired  to  leave  ?     It  is  prob- 
able, that  reflections  on  the  probable  conse- 
quences prevented  his  going  farther  than 
the  vague  pretensions  which  he  announced 
in  his  proclamations,  and  in  his  language 
to  the  Sheiks.     He  had  gone  far  enough, 
however,  to  show,  that  the  considerations 
of  conscience  would  have  been  no  hin- 
drance ;     and     that,    notwithstanding    the 
strength    of   his    understanding,    common 
sense  had  less  influence  than  might  have 
been  expected,  in  checking  his  assertion  of 
claims  so  ludicrous  as  well  as  so  profane. 
Indeed,    his    disputes    with   the    Ottoman 
Porte  speedily  assumed  a  character,  which 
his  taking  the  turban  and  professing  him- 
self a  Moslem  in  all  the  forms  could  not 
have  altered  to  his  advantage. 

It  had  been  promised  to  Buonaparte  that 
the  abilities  of  Talleyrand,  as  Minister  of 
Foreign  Afl'airs,  should  be  employed  to  rec- 
oncile the  Grand  Seignior  and  his  council- 
lors to  the  occupation  of  Egypt.  But  the 
efforts  of  that  able  negotiator  had  totally 
failed  in  a  case  so  evidently  hopeless ;  and  if 
Talleyrand  had  even  proceeded  to  Constan- 


Chap.  XXXI.]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


399 


tinople,  as  Napoleon  alleged  the  Directory 
had  promised,  it  could  only  have  been  to  be 
confined  in  the  Seven  Towers.  The  Porte 
had  long  since  declared,  that  any  attack 
upon  Egypt,  the  road  to  the  holy  cities  of 
Mecca  and  Medina,  would  be  considered 
as  a  declaration  of  war,  whatsoever  pre- 
texts might  be  alleged.  They  regarded, 
therefore,  Buonaparte's  invasioif  as  an  in- 
jury equally  unprovoked  and  unjustifiable. 
They  declared  war  against  France,  called 
upon  every  follower  of  the  Prophet  to  take 
the  part  of  his  vicegerent  upon  earth,  col- 
lected forces,  and  threatened  an  immediate 
expedition,  for  the  purpose  of  expelling  the 
inndels  from  Egypt.  The  success  of  the 
British  at  Aboukir  increased  their  confi- 
dence. Nelson  was  loaded  with  every  mark 
of  honour  which  the  Sultan  could  bestow, 
and  the  most  active  preparations  were  made 
to  act  against  Buonaparte,  equally  consid- 
ered as  enemy  to  the  Porte,  whether  he 
professed  himself  Christian,  infidel,  or  ren- 
egade. 

Meantime  that  adventurous  and  active 
chief  was  busied  in  augmenting  his  means 
of  defence  or  conquest,  and  in  acquiring 
the  information  necessary  to  protect  what 
he  had  gained,  and  to  extend  his  dominions. 
For  the  former  purpose,  corps  were  raised 
from  among  the  Egj'ptians,  and  some  were 
mounted  upon  dromedaries,  the  better  to 
encounter  the  perils  of  the  desert.  For  the 
latter,  Buonaparte  undertook  a  journey  to 
the  Isthmus  of  Suez,  the  well-known  inter- 
val which  connects  Asia  witli  Africa.  He 
subscribed  the  charter,  or  protection,  grant- 
ed to  the  Maronite  Monks  of  Sinai,  with 
the  greater  pleasure,  that  the  signature  of 
Mahommed  had  already  sanctioned  that  an- 
cient document.  He  visited  the  celebrated 
fountains  of  Moses,  and,  misled  by  a  guide, 
had  nearly  been  drowned  in  the  advancing 
tides  of  the  Red  Sea.  This,  he  observes, 
would  have  furnished  a  test  to  ail  the 
preachers  in  Europe.  But  the  same  Deity, 
who  rendered  that  gulf  fatal  to  Pharaoh, 
had  reserved  for  one,  who  equally  defied 
and  diso\vned  his  power,  the  rocks  of  an 
island  in  the  midst  of  the  Atlantic. 

Whea  Napoleon  was  engaged  in  this  ex- 
pedition, or  speedily  on  his  return,  lie 
learned  that  two  Turkish  armies  had  as- 
sembled,— one  at  Rhodes,  and  the  other  in 
Syria,  with  the  purpose  of  recovering  Eg)'pt. 
The  daring  genius,  which  always  desired  to 
anticipate  the  attempts  of  the  enemy,  de- 
termined him  to  march  with  a  strong  force 
for  the  occupation  of  Syria,  and  thus  at 
once  to  alarm  the  Turks  by  the  progress 
which  he  expected  to  make  in  that  prov- 
ince, and  to  avoid  being  attacked  in  Egypt 
by  two  Turkish  armies  at  the  same  time. 
His  commencement  was  as  successful  as 
his  enterprise  was  daring.  .\  body  of  Mam- 
elukes was  dispersed  by  a  night  attack. 
The  fort  of  El  Arish,  considered  as  one  of 
the  keys  of  Egypt,  fell  easily  into  his  hands. 
Finally,  at  the  head  of  about  ten  thousand 
men,  he  traversed  the  desert,  so  famous  in 
biblical  history,  which  separates  Africa 
from  Asia,  and  entered  Palestine  without 
much  loss,  bqt  not  without  experiencing 


the  privations  lo  which  the  wanderers  in 
those  sandy  wastes  have  been  uniformly 
subjected.  While  his  soldiers  looked  with 
fear  on  the  howling  wilderness  which  they 
saw  around,  there  was  something  in  the  ex- 
tent and  loneliness  of  the  scene  that  cor- 
responded with  the  swelling  soul  of  Napo- 
leon, and  accommodated  itself  to  his  ideas 
of  immense  and  boundless  space.  He  was 
pleased  with  the  flattery,  which  derived  his 
Christian  name  from  two  Greek  words,  sig- 
nifying the  Lion  of  the  Desert. 

Upon  his  entering  the  Holy  Land,  Buo- 
naparte again  drove  before  him  a  body  of 
Mamelukes,  belonging  to  those  who,  after 
the  battles  of  the  Pyramids  and  of  Salahieh, 
had  retreated  into  Syria;  and  his  army  oc- 
cupied without  resistance  Gaza,  anciently  a 
city  of  the  Philistines,  in  which  they  found 
supplies  of  provisions.  Jaffa,  a  celebrated 
city  during  the  time  of  the  Crusades,  was 
the  next  object  of  attack.  It  was  bravely 
assaulted  and  fiercely  defended.  But  the 
French  valour  and  discipline  prevailed — the 
place  was  carried  by  storm — three  thousand 
Turks  were  put  to  the  sword,  and  the  town 
was  abandoned  to  the  license  of  the  sol- 
diery, which,  by  Buonaparte's  own  admis- 
sion, never  assumed  a  >-hape  more  fright- 
ful." Such,  it  may  be  said,  is  the  stern 
rule  of  war;  and  if  so,  most  of  our  readers 
will  acquiesce  in  the  natural  exclamation  of 
the  Mareschal  de  Montluc, "  Certes,  we  sol- 
diers stand  in  more  need  of  the  Divine  mer- 
cy than  other  men,  seeing  that  our  profes- 
sion compels  us  to  command  and  to  witness 
deeds  of  such  cruelty."  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, to  the  ordinary  horrors  attending  the 
storm  of  a  town,  that  the  charge  against 
Buonaparte  is  on  this  occasion  limited.  He 
is  accused  of  having  been  guilty  of  an  ac- 
tion of  great  injustice,  as  well  as  of  espe- 
cial barbarity.  Concerning  this  we  shall 
endeavour  to  state,  stripped  of  colouring 
and  exaggeration,  first  the  charge,  and  then 
the  reply,  by  Napoleon  liimself. 

After  the  breach  had  been  stormed,  a 
large  part  of  the  garrison,  estimated  by 
Buonaparte  himself  at  twelve  hundred  men, 
which  Miot  raises  to  betwixt  two  and  three 
thousand,  and  others  exaggerate  still  more, 
remained  on  the  defensive,  and  held  out  in 
the  mosques,  and  a  sort  of  citadel  to  which 
they  had  retreated,  till,  at  length,  despairini; 
of  succour,  they  surrendered  their  arms, 
and  were  in  appearance  admitted  to  quar- 
ter. Of  this  body,  the  Egyptians  were 
carefully  separated  from  the  Turks,  Mau- 
grabins,  and  Arnaouts ;  and  while  the  first 
were  restored  to  liberty,  and  sent  back  to 
their  country,  these  last  were  placed  under 
a  strong  guard.  Provisions  were  distribut- 
ed to  them,  and  they  were  permitted  to  go 
by  detachments  in  quest  of  water.  Accor- 
ding to  all  appearance,  they  were  consider- 
ed and  treated  as  prisoners  of  war.  This 
was  on  the  7th  of  March.  On  the  9th,  two 
days  afterwards,  this  body  of  prisoners  were 
marched  out  of  Jaffa,  in  the  centre  of  a 
large  square  battalion,  commanded  byGen- 

*Sce  his  despatch  to  the  Directory,  on  the 
Syrian  campaign. 


300 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXXI. 


eral  Bon.  Miot  assures  us  that  he  himself 
mounted  hie  horse,  accompanied  the  mel- 
ancholy column,  and  witnessed  the  event. 
The  Turks  foresaw  their  fate,  but  used  nei- 
ther entreaties  nor  complaints  to  avert  it. 
They  marched  on,  silent  and  composed. 
Some  of  them,  of  higher  rank,  seemed  to 
exhort  the  others  to  submit,  like  servants 
of  the  Prophet,  to  the  decree  which,  accor- 
ding to  their  belief,  was  written  on  their 
forehead.  They  were  escorted  to  the  sand- 
hills to  the  south-east  of  Jaffa,  divided 
there  into  small  bodies,  and  put  to  death  by 
musketry.  The  execution  lasted  a  consid- 
erable time,  and  the  wounded,  as  in  the 
fusillades  of  the.Revolution,  were  despatch- 
ed with  the  bayonet.  Their  bodies  were 
heaped  together,  and  formed  a  pyramid 
which  is  still  visible,  consisting  now  of  hu- 
man bones  as  originally  of  bloody  corpses. 

The  cruelty  of  this  execution  occasioned 
the  fact  itself  to  be  doubted,  though  com- 
ing wth  strong  evidence,  and  never  denied 
by  the  French  themselves.  Napoleon,  how- 
ever, frankly  admitted  the  truth  of  the 
statement  both  to  Lord  Ebrington  and  to 
Dr.  O'Meara.  Well  might  the  author  of 
this  crrelty  ivrite  to  the  Directory,  that  the 
storm  of  Jaffa  was  marked  by  horrors  which 
he  had  never  elsewhere  witnessed.  Buo- 
naparte's defence  was,  that  the  massacre 
was  justified  by  the  laws  of  war — that  the 
head  of  his  messenger  had  been  cut  off  by 
the  governor  of  Jaffa,  when  sent  to  summon 
him  to  surrender — that  these  Turks  were  a 
part  of  the  garrison  of  El  Arish,  who  had 
engaged  not  to  serve  against  the  French, 
and  were  found  immediately  afterwards  de- 
fending Jaffa,  in  breach  of  the  terms  of  their 
capitulation.  They  had  incurred  the  doom 
of  death,  therefore,  by  the  rules  of  war — 
Wellington,  he  said,  would  have  in  his 
place  acted  in  the  same  manner. 

To  this  plea  the  following  obvious  an- 
swers apply.  If  the  Turkish  governor  had 
behaved  like*  a  barbarian,  for  which  his 
country,  and  the  religion  which  Napoleon 
meditated  to  embrace,  might  be  some  ex- 
cuse, the  French  general  had  avenged  him- 
self by  the  storm  and  plunder  of  the  town, 
with  which  his  revenge  ought  in  all  reason 
to  have  been  satisfied.  If  some  of  these 
unhappy  Turks  had  broken  their  faith  to 
Buonaparte,  and  were  found  again  in  the 
ranks  which  they  had  sworn  to  abandon,  it 
could  not,  according  to  the  most  severe  con- 
struction of  the  rules  of  war,  authorize  the 
dreadful  retaliation  of  indiscriminate  massa- 
cre upon  a  multitude  of  prisoners,  withwit 
inquiring  whether  they  had  been  all  equally 
guilty.  Lastly,  and  admitting  them  all  to 
stand  in  the  same  degree  of  criminality, 
although  their  breach  of  faith  might  have 
entitled  Buonaparte  to  refuse  these  men 
quarter  while  they  had  arms  in  their  hands, 
that  right  was  ended  when  the  French  gen- 
eral received  their  submission,  and  when 
they  had  given  up  the  means  of  defence,  on 
condition  of  safety  for  life  at  least. 

This  bloody  deed  must  always  remain  a 
deep  stain  on  the  character  of  Napoleon. 
"Yet  we  do  not  view  it  as  the  indulgence  of 
an  innate  love  of  cruelty  -,  for  nothing  in 


Buonaparte's  history  shows  the  existence 
of  that  vice,  and  there  are  many  things 
which  intimate  his  disposition  to  have  been 
naturally  humane.  But  he  was  ambitious, 
aimed  at  immense  and  gigantic  undertak- 
ings, and  easily  learned  to  overlook  the 
waste  of  human  life,  which  the  execution 
of  his  projects  necessarily  involved.  He 
seems  to  have  argued,  not  on  the  character 
of  the  action,  but  solely  on  the  effect  which 
it  was  to  produce  upon  his  own  combina- 
tions. His  army  was  small  j  and  it  was  his 
business  to  strike  terror  into  his  numerous 
enemies,  and  the  measure  to  be  adopted 
seemed  capable  of  making  a  deep  impres- 
sion on  all  who  should  hear  of  it.  Besides, 
these  men,  if  dismissed,  would  immediate- 
ly rejoin  his  enemies.  He  had  experienced 
their  courage,  and  to  disarm  them  would 
have  been  almost  an  unavailing  precaution, 
where  their  national  weapon,  the  sabre,  was 
so  easily  attained.  To  detain  them  prison- 
ers would  have  required  a  stronger  force 
than  Napoleon  could  afford,  would  have 
added  difficulty  and  delay  to  the  movement 
of  his  troops,  and  tended  to  exhaust  his 
supplies.  That  sort  of  necessity,  therefore, 
which  men  fancy  to  themselves  when  they 
are  unwilling  to  forego  a  favourite  object 
for  the  sake  of  obeying  a  moral  precept — 
that  necessity  which  might  be  more  prop- 
erly termed  a  temptation  difficult  to  be  re- 
sisted— that  necessity  which  has  been  call- 
ed the  tyrant's  plea,  was  the  cause  of  the 
massacre  at  Jaffa,  and  must  remain  its  sole 
apology. 

It  might  almost  seem  that  Heaven  set  its 
vindictive  brand  upon  this  deed  of  butche- 
ry, for  about  the  time  it  was  committed  the 
plague  broke  out  in  the  army.  Buonaparte, 
with  a  moral  courage  deserving  as  much 
praise  as  his  late  cruelty  deserved  reproba- 
tion, went  into  the  hospitals  in  person,  and 
while  exposing  himself,  without  hesitation, 
to  the  infection,  diminished  the  terror  of 
the  disease  in  the  opinion  of  the  soldiers 
generally,  and  even  of  the  patients  them- 
selves, who  were  thus  enabled  to  keep  up 
their  spirits,  and  gained  by  doing  so  the  fair- 
est chance  of  recovery. 

Meanwhile,  determined  to  prosecute  the 
conquest  of  Syria,  Buonaparte  resSlved  to 
advance  to  Saint  Jean  d'Acre,  so  celebrat- 
ed in  the  wars  of  Palestine.  The  Turkish 
Pacha,  or  governor  of  Syria,  who,  like  oth- 
ers in  his  situation,  accounted  himself  al- 
most an  independent  sovereign,  was  Achmet, 
who,  by  his  unrelentmg  cruelties  and  exe- 
cutions, had  procured  the  terrible  distinc- 
tion of  Djezzar,  or  the  Butcher.  Buona- 
parte addressed  this  formidable  chief  in  two 
letters,  offering  his  alliance,  and  threatening 
him  with  his  vengeance  if  it  should  be  re- 
jected. To  neither  did  the  Pacha  return 
any  answer — in  the  second  instance  he  put 
to  death  the  messenger.  The  French  gen- 
eral advanced  against  Acre,  vowing  re- 
venge. There  were,  however,  obstacles  to 
the  success  of  his  enterprise,  on  which  he 
had  not  calculated. 

The  Pacha  had  communicated  the  ap- 
proach of  Napoleon  to  Sir  Sidney  Smith, 
to  whom  had  been  committed  the  charge 


Chap.  XXXI]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


301 


of  assisting  the  Turks  in  their  proposed  ex- 
pedition to  Egypt,  and  who,  for  that  pur- 
pose, was  cruising  in  the  Levant.  He  has- 
tened to  sail  for  Acre  with  the  Tigre  and 
Theseus,  ships  of  the  line,  and  arriving  there 
two  days  ere  the  French  made  their  appear- 
ance, contributed  greatly  to  place  the  town, 
the  fortifications  of  which  were  on  the  old 
Gothic  plan,  in  a  respectable  state  of  de- 
fence. 

Sir  Sidney  Smith,  who  so  highly  distin- 
cuished  himself  on  this  occasion,  had  been 
lone  celebrated  for  the  most  intrepid  cour- 
age, and  spirit  of  enterprise.  His  character 
was.  besides  marked  by  those  traits  of  enthu- 
6iasin  at  which  cold  and  vulgar  minds  are  apt 
to  sneer,  because  incapable  of  understand- 
ing them  ;  yet  without  which  great  and  hon- 
ourable actions  have  rarely  been  achieved. 
He  had  also  a  talent,  uncommon  among  the 
English,  that  of  acting  easily  with  foreign, 
and  especially  with  barbarous  troops,  and 
understanding  how  to  make  their  efforts 
availing  for  the  service  of  the  common 
cause,  though  exerted  in  a  manner  different 
from  those  of  civilized  nations.  This  brave 
officer  having  been  frequently  intrusted 
with  the  charge  of  alarming  the  French 
coast,  had  been  taken  on  one  occasion,  and, 
contrary  to  tlie  law  of  nations,  and  out  of  a 
mean  spirit  of  revenge,  was  imprisoned  in 
the  Temple,  from  which  he  was  deliver- 
ed by  a  daring  stratagem,  effected  by  the 
French  royalist  party.  He  had  not  been 
many  hours  at  Acre,  when  Providence  af- 
forded him  a  distinguishing  mark  of  favour. 
The  Theseus,  which  had  been  detached  to 
intercept  any  French  vessels  that  might  be 
attending  on  Buonaparte's  march,  detected 
a  small  flotilla  stealing  under  Mount  Car- 
mel,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  make 
prize  of  seven  out  of  nine  of  them.  They 
were  a  convoy  from  Damietta,  bound  for 
Acre,  having  on  board  heavy  cannon,  plat- 
forms, ammunition,  and  other  necessary  ar- 
ticles. These  cannon  and  military  stores, 
destined  to  form  the  siege  of  Acre,  became 
eminently  useful  in  its  defence,  and  the 
consequence  of  their  capture  was  eventual- 
ly decisive  of  the  struggle.  General  Phi- 
lippeaux,  a  French  royalist,  and  officer  of 
engineers,  immediately  applied  himself  to 
place  the  cannon  thus  acquired,  to  the 
amount  of  betwixt  thirty  and  forty,  upon 
the  walls  which  they  had  been  intended  to 
destroy.  This  officer,  who  had  been  Buona- 
parte's school-fellow,  and  the  principal  agent 
in  delivering  Sir  Sidney  Smith  from  prison, 
possessed  rare  talents  in  his  profession. 
Thus  stringely  met  under  the  walls  of  Acre, 
an  English  officer,  late  a  prisoner  in  the 
Temple  at  Paris,  and  a  French  colonel  of 
engineers,  with  the  late  general  of  the  .\r- 
my  of  Italy,  the  ancient  companion  of  Phi- 
lippeaux,*  and  about  to  become  almost  the 
personal  enemy  of  Smith. 

On  the  17th  March,  the  French  came  in 
sight  of  .\cre.  which  is  built  on  a  peninsula 
advancing  into  the  sea.  and  so  convenient- 


*  Pbilippeaux  died  during  the  siege,  of  a  fever 
brought  on  by  fatigue.  Buonaparte  spoke  of  hira 
with  more  respect  than  he  usually  showed  to  those 
who  had  been  successful  in  opposing  him.    One 


ly  situated  that  vessels  can  lie  near  the 
shore,  and  annoy  with  their  fire  whatever 
advances  to  assault  the  fortifications.  Not- 
withstanding the  presence  of  two  British 
ships  of  war,  and  the  disappointment  con- 
cerning his  battering  cannon,  which  were 
now  pointed  against  him  from  the  ramparts, 
Buonaparte,  with  a  characteristic  persever- 
ance which  on  such  an  occasion  was  push- 
ed into  obstinacy,  refused  to  abandon  his 
purpose,  and  proceeded  to  open  trenches, 
although  the  guns  which  he  had  to  place  in 
them  were  only  twelve  pounders.  The 
point  of  attack  was  a  large  tower  which 
predominated  over  the  rest  of  the  fortifi- 
cations. A  mine  at  the  §ame  time  was  run 
under  the  extreme  defences. 

By  the  28th  March  a  breach  was  effected, 
the  mine  was  sprung,  and  the  French  pro- 
ceeded to  the  assault  upon  that  day.  They 
advanced  at  the  charging  step  under  a  mur- 
derous fire  from  the  walls,  bat  had  the  mor- 
tification to  find  a  deep  ditch  betwixt  them 
and  the  tower.  They  crossed  it,  neverthe- 
less, by  help  of  the  scaling-ladders  which 
they  carried  with  them,  and  forced  their 
way  as  far  as  the  tower,  from  which  it  is 
said  that  the  defenders,  impressed  by  the 
fate  of  Jaffa,  were  beginning  to  fly.  They 
were  checked  by  the  example  of  Djezzar 
himself,  who  firr-d  his  own  pistols  at  the 
French,  and  upbraided  the  Moslems  who 
were  retreating  from  the  walls.  The  de- 
fences were  again  manned  ;  the  French, 
unable  to  support  the  renewed  fire,  were 
checked  and  forced  back ;  and  the  Turks 
falling  upon  them  in  their  retreat  with  sa- 
bre in  hand,  killed  a  number  of  their  best 
men,  and  Mailly,  who  commanded  the  par- 
ty. Sorties  were  made  from  the  place  to 
destroy  the  French  works ;  and  although 
the  cries  with  which  the  Turks  carry  on 
their  military  manceuvres  gave  the  alarm  to 
the  enemy,  yet,  assisted  by  a  detachment 
of  British  seamen,  they  did  the  French 
considerable  damage,  reconnoitred  the 
mine  which  they  were  forming  anew,  and 
obtained  the  knowledge  of  its  direction  ne- 
cessary to  prepare  a  counter  mine. 

While  the  strife  was  thus  fiercely  main- 
tained on  both  sides,  with  mutual  loss  and 
increased  animosity,  the  besiegers  were 
threatened  with  other  dangers.  An  army 
of  Moslem  troops  of  various  nations,  but  all 
actuated  by  the  same  religious  zeal,  had 
formed  themselves  in  the  mountains  of  Sa- 
maria, and  uniting  with  them  the  warlike 
inhabitants  of  that  country,  now  called 
Naplous,  formed  the  plan  of  attacking  the 
French  army  lying  before  Acre  on  one  side, 
while  Djezzar  and  his  allies  should  assail 
them  upon  the  other.  Kleber,  with  his  di- 
vision, was  despatched  by  Buonaparte  to 
disperse  this  assemblage.  But  though  he 
obtained  considerable  advantages  over  de- 
tached parties  of  the  Syrian  army,  their 
strength  was  sodisproportioned,  that  at  last, 
while  he  held  a  position  near  Mount  Ta- 
bor, with  two  or  three  thousand  men.   he 


reason  might  be,  that  the  merit  given  to  Fhilip- 
p<,'aux  was  in  some  degree  sulj.iiracteii  from  Sir 
Sidney  Smith.  The  former  was  a  Frenchman,  and 
dead — the  latter  ahve,  and  an  Englishroaa. 


302 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXI. 


was  surrounded  by  about  ten  times  his  own 
number.  But  his  general-in-chief  was  hast- 
ening to  his  assistance.  Buonaparte  left 
two  divisions  to  keep  the  trenches  before 
Acre,  and  penetrated  into  the  country  in 
Uiree  columns.  Murat,  at  the  head  of  a 
fourth,  occupied  the  pass  called  Jacob's 
Bridge.  The  attack,  made  on  various 
points,  was  everywhere  successful.  The 
camp  of  the  Syrian  army  was  taken  j  their 
defeat,  almost  their  dispersion,  was  accom- 
plished, while  their  scattered  remains  rted 
to  Damascus.  Buonaparte  returned,  crown- 
ed with  laurels,  to  the  siege  of  Acre. 

Here,  too,  the  arrival  of  thirty  heavy 
pieces  of  cannon  from  Jaffa  seemed  to 
promise  that  success,  which  the  French 
had  as  yet  been  unable  to  attain.  It  was 
about  this  time  that,  walking  on  the  Mount 
which  still  retains  the  name  of  Richard 
CcBur  de  Lion,  Buonaparte  expressed  him- 
self to  Murat  in  these  terms,  as  he  pointed 
to  St.  Jean  D'Acre  : — '•  The  fate  of  the  East 
depends  upon  yonder  petty  town.  Its  con- 
quest will  ensure  the  main  object  of  my  e.t- 
pedition,  and  Damascus  will  be  the  first 
fruit  of  it.'"^  Thus  it  would  seem,  that 
while  engaged  in  the  enterprise,  Buonaparte 
held  the  same  language,  which  he  did  many 
years  after  its  failure  when  at  St.  Helena. 

Repeated  and  desperate  assaults  proved, 
that  the  consequence  which  he  attached  to 
taking  Acre  was  as  great  as  his  words  ex- 
pressed. The  assailants  suffered  severely 
on  these  occasions,  for  they  were  e.xposed 
to  the  fire  of  two  ravelins,  or  external  forti- 
fications, which  had  been  constructed  un- 
der Philippeaux's  directions,  and  at  the 
same  time  enfiladed  by  the  fire  of  the  Brit- 
ish shipping.  At  length,  employing  to  the 
uttermost  the  heavy  artillery  now  in  his 
possession,  Buonaparte,  in  spite  of  a  bloody 
and  obstinate  opposition,  forced  his  way  to 
the  disputed  tower,  and  made  a  lodgment 
on  the  second  story.  It  afforded,  however, 
no  access  to  the  town ;  and  the  troops  re- 
mained there  as  in  a  cul  de  sac,  the  lodg- 
ment being  covered  from  the  English  and 
Turkish  fire  by  a  work  constructed  partly 
of  packs  of  cotton,  partly  of  the  dead  bod- 
ies of  the  slain,  built  up  along  with  them. 

.\t  this  critical  moment,  a  fleet,  bearing 
reinforcements  long  hoped  for  and  much 
needed,  appeared  in  view  of  the  garrison. 
They  contained  Turkish  troops  under  the 
command  of  Hassan  Bey.  Yet  near  as 
they  were,  the  danger  was  imminent  that 
Acre  might  be  taken  ere  they  could  land. 
To  prevent  such  a  misfortune.  Sir  Sidney 
Smith  in  person  proceeded  to  the  disputed 
tower,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  British 
seamen,  armed  with  pises.  They  united 
themselves  to  a  corps  of  Brave  Turks,  who 
defended  the  breach  rather  with  heavy 
Btones  than  with  other  weapons.  The  heap 
of  ruins  which  divided  the  contending  par- 
ties served  as  a  breast-work  to  both.  The 
muzzles  of  the  muskets  touched  each  oth- 
er, and  the  spear-keads  of  the  standards 
were  locked  together.    At  this  moment  one 

*  Related  by  Miot,  as  communicated  to  him  by 
Murat. 


of  tlie  Turkish  regiments  of  Hassan's  ar- 
my, which  had  by  this  time  landed,  made 
a  sortie  upon  the  French  ;  and  though  they 
were  driven  back,  yet  the  diversion  occa- 
sioned the  besiegers  to  be  forced  from 
their  lodgment. 

Abandoning  the  ill-omened  tower,  which 
had  cost  the  besiegers  so  many  men,  Buon- 
aparte now  turned  his  efforts  towards  a 
considerable  breach  that  had  been  effected 
in  the  curtain,  and  which  promised  a  more 
easy  entrance.  It  proved,  indeed,  but  too 
easy  ;  for  Djezzar  Pacha  opposed  to  the  as- 
sault on  this  occasion  a  new  mode  of  tac- 
tics. Confiding  in  his  superior  numbers, 
he  suffered  the  French,  who  were  com- 
manded by  the  intrepid  General  Lannes,  to 
surmount  the  breach  without  opposition,  by 
which  they  penetrated  into  the  body  of  the 
place.  They  had  no  sooner  entered,  than 
a  numerous  body  of  Turks,  mingled  among 
them  with  loud  shouts ;  and  ere  they  had 
time  or  room  to  avail  themselves  of  their 
discipline,  brought  them  into  that  state  of 
close  fighting,  where  strength  and  agility 
are  superior  to  every  other  acquirement. 
The  Turks,  wielding  the  sabre  in  one  hand, 
and  the  poniard  in  the  other,  cut  to  pieces 
almost  all  the  French  who  had  entered. 
General  Rambaud  lay  a  headless  corpse  in 
the  breach — Lannes  was  with  difficulty 
brought  off,  severely  wounded.  The  Turks 
gave  no  quarter ;  and  instantly  cutting  the 
heads  off  of  those  whom  they  slew,  car- 
ried them  to  the  Pacha,  who  sat  in  public 
distributing  money  to  those  who  brought 
him  these  bloody  trophies,  which  now  lay 
piled  in  heaps  around  him.  This  was  the 
sixth  assault  upon  these  tottering  and  blood- 
stained ramparts.  '•  Victory,"  said  Napole- 
on, "  is  to  the  most  persevering :''  and  con- 
trary to  the  advice  of  Kleber,  he  resolved 
upon  another  and  yet  more  desperate  attack. 
On  the  21st  May  the  final  effort  was  made. 
The  attack  of  the  morning  failed,  and  Colo- 
nel Veneux  renewed  it  at  midday.  "  Be 
assured,"  said  he  to  Buonaparte,  "  Acre 
shall  be  yours  to-night,  or  Veneux  will  die 
on  the  breach."  He  kept  his  word  at  the 
cost  of  his  life.  Bon  was  also  slain,  whose 
division  had  been  the  executioners  of  the 
garrison  of  Jaffa.  The  French  now  retreat- 
ed, dispirited,  and  despairing  of  success. 
The  contest  had  been  carried  on  at  half  a 
musket  shot  distance  ;  and  the  bodies  of 
the  dead  lying  around,  putrified  under  the 
burning  sun,  and  spread  disease  among  the 
survivors.  An  attempt  was  made  to  estab- 
lish a  suspension  of  arms  for  removing  this 
horrible  annoyance.  Miot  says  that  the 
Pacha  returned  no  answer  to  the  proposal 
of  the  French.  According  to  Sir  Sidney 
Smith's  official  reports,  the  armistice  for 
this  humane  purpose  was  actually  agreed 
on,  but  broken  off  by  the  French  firing  upon 
those  who  were  engaged  in  the  melancholy 
office,  and  then  rushing  on  to  make  their 
last  unsuccessful  charge  and  assault  upon 
the  breach.  This  would  have  been  a  crime 
so  useless,  and  would  have  tended  so  much 
to  the  inconvenience  of  the  French  them- 
selvt^s,  that  we  cannot  help  suspecting 
3ome  misunderstanding  had  occurred,  anq 


Chap.  XXXL]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


303 


that  the  interruption  was  under  a  wrong 
conception  of  the  purpose  of  the  working 
party. 

This  is  the  more  probable,  as  Sir  Sidney 
Smith,  who  reports  the  circumstance,  was 
not  at  this  time  disposed  to  put  the  best 
construction  on  any  action  of  Buonaparte's, 
who,  on  the  other  hand,  regarded  the  Brit- 
ish seaonan  with  peculiar  dislike,  and  even 
malignity.  The  cause  of  personal  quarrel 
betwixt  them  was  rather  singular. 

Buonaparte  had  addressed  the  subjects 
of  Achmet  Djezzar's  pachalik,  in  terms  in- 
viting them  to  revolt,  and  join  the  French ; 
yet  was  much  offended  when,  imitating  his 
own  policy,  the  Pacha  and  Sir  Sidney 
Smith  caused  letters  to  be  sent  into  his 
camp  before  Acre,  urging  his  soldiers  to 
mutiny  and  desertion.  Sir  Sidney  also 
published  a  proclamation  to  the  Druses, 
and  other  inhabitants  of  the  country,  call- 
ing on  them  to  trust  the  faith  of  a  Christ- 
ian knight,  rather  than  that  of  an  unprin- 
cipled renegado.  Nettled  at  these  insults, 
Buonaparte  declared  that  the  English  com- 
modore was  mad ;  and,  according  to  his 
account,  Sir  Sidney  replied  by  sending  him 
a  challenge.  The  French  general  scorn- 
fully refused  this  invitation,  unless  the 
challenger  would  bring  Marlborough  to 
meet  him,  but  offered  to  send  one  of  his 
grenadiers  to  indulge  the  Englishman's  de- 
sire of  single  combat.  The  good  taste  of 
the  challenge  may  be  doubted,  if  indeed 
such  was  ever  sent ;  but  the  scorn  of  the 
reply  ought  to  have  been  mitigated,  con- 
Biaering  it  was  addressed  to  one,  in  conse- 
quence of  whose  dauntless  and  determined 
oppositit-n  Buonaparte's  favourite  object 
had  failed,  and  who  was  presently  to  com- 
pel him  for  the  first  time  to  an  inglorious 
retreat. 

Another  calumny,  circulated  by  Buona- 
parte against  the  English  commodore,  was, 
that  Sir  Sidney  Smith  had  endeavoured  to  ex- 
pose his  French  prisoners  to  the  infection  of 
the  plague,  by  placing  them  in  vessels  where 
that  dreadful  contagion  prevailed.  This 
charge  had  no  other  foundation,  than  in  Buo- 
naparte's wish,  by  spreading  such  a  scan- 
dal, to  break  off  all  communication  between 
the  commodore  and  the  discontented  of  his 
own  army,  .\fterthe  heat  excited  by  their 
angry  collision  had  long  subsided,  it  is 
amusing  to  find  Napoleon,  when  in  the  isl- 
and of  Saint  Helena,  declaring,  that  his 
opinion  of  Sir  Sidney  Smith  was  altered  for 
the  better,  since  he  had  become  acquainted 
with  the  rest  of  his  countrymen,  and  that 
he  now  considered  him  as  a  worthy  sort  of 
man — for  an  Englishman. 

The  siege  of  Acre  had  now  continued  six- 
^days  since  the  opening  of  the  trenches. 
The  besiegers   had  marched  no  less  than 
eight  times  to  the  assault,  while  eleven  des-  i 
perate  sallies  were  evidence  of  tlie  obstina-  j 
cy  of  the  defence.      Several   of  the   best  • 
French   generals  were  killed ;  among  the  ! 
rest  Caffarelli.*  for  whom   Buonaparte  had  ' 

•CafTarelli  was  shot  in  the  tibow,  and  died  of  i 
tlje  amputation  of  the  limb.    He  liad  before  lost  a  ; 


particular  esteem ;  and  the  army  was  great- 
ly reduced  by  the  sword  and  the  plague, 
which  raged  at  once  among  their  devoted 
bands.  Retreat  became  inevitable.  Yet 
Buonaparte  endeavoured  to  give  it  such  a 
colouring  as  might  make  the  measure  seem 
voluntary.  Sometimes  he  announced  that 
his  purpose  of  going  to  Acre  was  sufficient- 
ly accomplished  when  he  had  battered  down 
the  palace  of  the  Pacha;  at  other  times  he 
affirmed  he  had  left  the  whole  town  a  heap 
of  ruins  ;  and  finally,  he  informed  the  Di- 
rectory that  he  could  easily  have  taken  the 
place,  but  the  plague  being  raging  within 
its  walls,  and  it  being  impossible  to  prevent 
the  troops  from  seizing  on  infected  clothes 
for  part  of  their  booty,  he  had  rather  decline 
the  capture  of  Acre,  than  run  the  risk  of  in- 
troducing this  horrid  malady  among  his  sol- 
diers. What  his  real  feelings  must  have 
been,  while  covering  his  chagrin  with  such 
flimsy  pretexts,  may  be  conjectured  from 
the  following  frank  avowal  to  his  attendants 
in  Saint  Helena.  Speaking  of  the  depend- 
ence of  the  most  important  affairs  on  the 
the  most  trivial,  lie  remarks,  that  the  mis- 
take of  the  captain  of  a  frigate,  who  bore 
away,  instead  of  forcing  his  passage  to  the 
place  of  his  destination,  had  prevented  the 
face  of  the  world  from  being  totally  chang- 
ed. "  Acre,"  he  said,  "  would  otherwise 
have  been  taken — the  French  army  would 
have  flown  to  Damascus  and  Aleppo — in  a 
twinkling  of  an  eye  they  would  have  been 
on  the  Euphrates — the  Syrian  Christians 
would  have  joined  us — the  Druses,  the  Ar- 
menians would  have  united  v/ith  us." — 
Some  one  replied,  "  we  might  have  been 
reinforced  to  the  number  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand men." — '•  Say  six  hundred  thousand." 
said  the  Emperor;  '•  who  can  calculate  the 
amount  ?  I  would  have  reached  Constanti- 
nople and  the  Indies — I  would  have  changed 
the  face  of  the  world."* 


leg,  wliicli  induced  the  French  soldiers,  who  dis- 
liked him  as  one  of  the  principal  contrivers  of  the 
Egyptian  expedition,  to  say,  when  they  saw  him 
hobble  past,  "  He,  at  least,  need  care  little  about 
the  matter — he  is  sure  to  have  ane  foot  in  France." 
He  had  some  days  delirium  before  he  died  ;  hut 
Count  Las  Cases  reports,  that  whenever  Buona- 
parte was  announced,  his  presence — nay,  his  name 
alone — seemed  to  cure  the  wanderings  of  the  pa- 
tient's spirit,  and  that  this  phenomenon  was  re- 
newed so  often  as  the  General  made  him  a  visit. 

*  Las  Cases'  Journal  de  la  Vie  Priv(;e,  &c.  de 
Napoleon,  torn.  I.  partie  seconde,  p.  384.  The  ei- 
travagance  of  Napoleon's  plan  unavoidably  re- 
minds us  of  the  vanity  of  human  wishes.  The 
cause  to  which  he  ascribes  it  is  the  viistake  of  a 
captain  of  a  frigate,  who,  instead  of  forcing  hii 
way  to  Acre,  against  the  opposition  of  two  ships 
of  the  line,  was  unfortunately  taken  by  them.  Thi« 
is  a  mode  of  reasoning  which  Na"'oleon  was  very 
ready  to  adopt.  The  miscarriage  of  his  plans  waa 
seldom  imputed  by  him  to  the  successful  wisdom 
or  valour  of  an  enemy,  but  to  som<^  accidental  cir- 
cumstance, or  blunder,  which  deranged  the  scheme 
which  mu=t  otherwise  have  been  infallible.  Some 
of  his  best  generals  were  of  a  ditferent  opinion,  and 
considered  the  rashness  of  the  attack  upon  Acre, 
as  involving  the  certainty  of  failure.  Kleber  is 
reported  to  have  said,  that  the  Turks  defonded 
themselves  with  the  skill  of  Christians,  and  that 
the  French  attacked  like  Turks, 


304 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       [Chap.  XXXII. 


CHAP.  ZXXII. 

Discussion  concerning  the  alleged  Poisoning  of  (he  Sick  in  the  Hospitals  at  Jaffa. — 
Napoleon  acquitted  of  the  Charge. — French  Army  re-enter  Cairo  on  the  llth  June. — 
Retrospect  of  what  had  taken  place  in  Upper  and  Lower  Egypt  during  his  Absence. 
— Incursion  of  Mur ad  Bey. — 18.000  Turks  occupy  Aboukir — Attacked  and  defeated 
by  Buonaparte — This  Victory  terminates  Napoleon's  Career  in  Egypt. —  Views  of  kin 
Situation  there  after  that  Battle. — Admiral  Ganlheaume  receives  Orders  to  make  rea- 
dy for  Sea — On  the  'iSd  August,  Napoleon  embarks  for  France,  leaving  Kleber  and 
Menou  first  and  second  in  Command  of  the  Army — Arrives  in  Ajaccio,  in  Corsica, 
on  the  30th  September,  and  lands  at  Frejus,  in  France,  on  the  9th  October. 

The  retreat  from  before  Acre  was  conduct- 
ed with  equal  skill  and  secrecy,  though 
Buonaparte  was  compelled  to  leave  behind 
his  heavy  cannon,  which  he  either  buried 
Or  threw  into  the  sea.  But  by  a  rumour 
which  long  prevailed  in  the  French  army, 
he  was  alleged  to  have  taken  a  far  more  ex- 
traordinary measure  of  preparation  for  re- 
treat, by  destroying  with  opium  the  sick  in 
the  hospitals,  who  could  not  march  along 
with  the  army. 

This  transaction  is  said  to  have  taken 
place  under  the  following  circumstances. 
The  siege  of  Acre  being  raised  on  the  20th 
of  May  1799,  the  French  army  retreated  to 
Jaffa,  where  their  military  hospitals  had 
been  established  during  the  siege.  Upon 
the  27th,  Buonaparte  was  under  the  neces- 
sity of  continuing  his  retreat,  and  in  the 
meantime  such  of  the  patients  as  were  con- 
valescent were  sent  forward  on  the  road  to 
Egypt,  under  the  necessary  precautions  for 
their  safety.  There  remained  an  indefinite 
number,  reaching  at  the  greatest  computa- 
tion to  betwixt  twenty  and  thirty,  but  stated 
by  Buonaparte  himself  to  be  only  seven, 
whose  condition  was  desperate.  Their  dis- 
ease was  the  plague,  and  to  carry  them  on- 
ward, seemed  to  threaten  the  army  with  in- 
fection ;  while  to  leave  them  behind,  was 
abandoning  them  to  the  cruelty  of  the 
Turks,  by  whom  all  stragglers  and  prisoners 
were  cruelly  murdered,  often  with  protract- 
ed torture.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that 
Buonaparte  submitted  to  Desgenettes,  chief 
of  the  medical  staff,  the  propriety  of  ending 
the  victims'  misery  by  a  dose  of  opium. 
The  physician  answered,  with  the  heroism 
belonging  to  his  profession,  that  his  art 
taught  him  how  to  cure  men,  not  how  to  kill 
them. 

The  proposal  was  agreeable  to  Buona- 
parte's principles,  who,  advocating  the  le- 
gality of  suicide,  naturally  might  believe, 
that  if  a  man  has  a  right  to  relieve  himself 
of  intolerable  evils  by  depriving  himself  of 
life,  a  general  or  a  monarch  may  deal  forth 
that  measure  to  his  soldiers  or  subjects, 
which  he  would  think  it  advisable  to  act 
upon  in  his  own  case.  It  was  consistent, 
also,  with  his  character,  rather  to  look  at 
results  than  at  the  measures  which  were  to 
produce  them,  and  to  consider  in  many  ca- 
ses the  end  as  an  excuse  for  the  means.  •'  I 
would  have  desired  such  a  relief  for  myself 
in  the  same  circumstances,"  he  said  to  Mr. 
Warden.  To  O'Meara  he  affirmed,  "that 
he  would  have  taken  such  a  step  even  with 
respect  to  his  own  son."     The  fallacy  of 


this  reasoning  is  demonstrable  ;  but  Buona- 
parte was  saved  from  acting  on  it  by  the  re- 
sistance of  Desgenettes.  A  rear-guard  was 
left  to  protect  these  unhappy  men  ;  and  the 
English  found  some  of  them  alive,  who,  if 
Desgenettes  had  been  more  compliant, 
would  have  been  poisoned  by  their  physi- 
cian. If  Buonaparte  was  guilty  of  entertaining 
such  a  purpose,  whether  entertained  from 
indifference  to  human  life,  or  from  wild  and 
misdirected  ideas  of  humanity,  he  met  an 
appropriate  punishment  in  the  general  be- 
lief which  long  subsisted,  that  the  deed  had 
been  actually  carried  into  execution,  not  in 
the  persons  of  a  few  expiring  wretches  only, 
but  upon  several  hundred  men.  Miot  says 
the  report  was  current  in  the  French  army, 
—Sir  Robert  Wilson  found  it  credited  among 
their  officers,  wlien  tiiey  became  the  Eng- 
lish prisoners, — and  Count  Las  Cases  ad- 
mits it  was  generally  believed  by  the  sol- 
diers. But  though  popular  credulity  eager- 
ly receives  whatever  stories  are  marked  by 
the  horrible  and  wonderful,  history,  on  the 
contrary,  demands  direct  evidence,  and  the 
existence  of  powerful  motives,  for  whatev- 
er is  beyond  the  ordinary  bounds  of  credi- 
bility. The  poisoning  of  five  or  six  hundred 
men  is  neither  easily  managed  nor  easily 
concealed;  and  why  should  the  French 
leader  have  had  recourse  to  it,  since,  like 
many  a  retreating  general  before  him,  he 
had  only  to  leave  the  patients  for  whom  he 
had  not  the  means  of  transportation  ?  To 
poison  the  sick  and  helpless,  must  have  de- 
stroyed his  interest  with  the  remainder  of 
his  soldiers  ;  whereas,  to  have  left  them  to 
their  fate,  was  a  matter  too  customary,  and 
too  much  considered  as  a  point  of  necessi- 
ty, to  create  any  discontent*  among  those 

*  Miot  gives  a  melancholy,  but  too  true  a  pic- 
ture, of  thu  indifference  with  which  soldiers,  when 
on  a  retreat,  regard  the  sufferings  of  those  whose 
•strength  does  not  enable  them  to  keep  up  with  the 
march.  He  describes  a  man,  affected  by  the  fear 
of  being  left  to  the  cruelties  of  the  Turks,  snatch- 
ing up  his  knapsack,  and  staggering  after  the  col- 
umn to  which  he  belonged,  while  his  gl&zed  eye, 
uncertain  motion,  and  stumbling  pace,  excited  the 
fear  of  some,  and  the  ridicule  of  others.  "His 
account  is  made  up,"  said  one  of  his  comrades,  aa 
he  reeled  about  amongst  them  like  a  drunkard. 
"  He  will  not  make  a  long  march  of  it,"  said  an- 
other. And  when,  after  more  than  one  fall  he  at 
length  became  unable  to  rise,  the  observation,  that 
"  he  had  taken  up  his  quarters,"  was  all  the  moaa 
which  it  was  thought  necessary  to  make.  It  is  in 
these  cases,  as  Miot  justly  observes,  that  indiffer- 
ence and  selfishness  become  universal ;  and  he  that 
would  t)e  comfortable  must  manage  to  rely  on  his 
own  exertions,  and,  above  all,  to  remain  in  good 
health. 


Chap.  XXXII]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


305 


whose  interest,  as  well  as  that  of  their  gen- 
eral, consisted  in  moving  on  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. Again,  had  such  a  horrible  expedi- 
ent been  had  recourse  to,  it  coulJ  not  have 
escaped  the  knowledge  of  Sir  Sidney  .Smith, 
who  would  not  have  failed  to  give  the  hor- 
rid fact  publicity,  were  it  only  to  retaliate 
upon  Buonaparte  for  the  scandalous  accusa- 
tions which  he  had  circulated  against  the 
English.  But  though  he  mentions  various 
complaints  which  the  prisoners  made 
against  their  general,  and  though  he  states 
himself  to  have  found  seven  men  alive  in 
the  hospitals  at  Jaffa,  (being  apparently  the 
very  persons  whom  it  had  been  proposed  to 
despatch  by  opium,)  he  says  not  a  word  of 
what  he  would  doubtless  have  told  not  un- 
willingly, had  there  been  ground  for  believ- 
ing it.  Neither,  among  the  numerous  per- 
sons to  whom  the  truth  must  be  known,  has 
any  one  come  forward  since  Buonaparte's 
fall,  who  could  give  the  least  evidence  to 
authenticate  the  report  otherwise  than  as 
a  rumour,  that  had  sprung  out  of  the  unjus- 
tifiable proposal  which  had  indeed  been 
made  by  Buonaparte  to  Desgcuettes,  but 
never  acted  upon.  The  same  patient  and 
impcu-tial  investigati'in.  therefore,  which 
compels  us  to  record  that  the  massacre  of 
the  Turkish  prisoners  in  cold  blood  is  fully 
proved,  induces  us  to  declare,  that  the  poi- 
soning of  the  sick  at  Jaffa  has  been  affirmed 
without  sufficient  evidence. 

Buonaparte  continued  his  retreat  from 
Syria,  annoyed  by  the  natives,  who  harass- 
ed his  march,  and  retaliating  the  injuries 
which  he  received,  by  plundering  and  burn- 
ing the  villages  which  lay  in  the  course  of 
his  march.  He  left  Jaffa'on  the  28th  May, 
and  upon  the  1-lth  June  re-entered  Cairo, 
with  a  reputation  not  so  much  increased  by 
the  victory  at  Mount  Tabor,  as  diminished 
and  sullied  for  the  time  by  the  retreat  from 
Acre. 

Lower  Egypt,  during  the  absence  of  Buo- 
naparte, had  remained  undisturbed,  unless 
by  partial  insurrections.  In  one  of  these 
an  impostor  personated  that  mysterious  in- 
dividual, the  Imaum  Mohadi,  of  whom  the 
Orientals  believe  that  he  is  not  dead,  but  is 
destined  to  return  and  combat  Antichrist, 
before  the  consummation  of  all  things  takes 
place.  This  pretender  to  supernatural  pow- 
er, as  well  as  others  who  placed  themselves 
at  the  head  of  insurrections  without  such 
high  pretensions,  was  completely  defeated; 
and  the  French  showed  the  greatest  sever- 
ity in  punishing  their  followers,  and  the 
country  which  had  furnished  them  with 
partisans. 

In  Upper  Egypt  there  had  been  more  ob- 
stinate contention.  Murad  Bey,  already 
mentioned  as  the  ablest  chief  of  the  Mame- 
lukes, had  maintained  himself  in  that  coun- 
try with  a  degree  of  boldness  and  sagacity, 
which  gave  the  French  much  trouble.  His 
fine  force  of  cavalry  enabled  him  to  advance 
or  retreat  at  pleasure,  and  his  perfect  ac- 
quaintance with  the  country  added  much 
to  his  advantage. 

Dessaix,  sent  against  Murad  after  the  bat- 
tle of  the  Pyramids,  had  again  defeated  the 
Mameluke  chief  at  Sedinan,  where  was 


once  more  made  evident  the  superiority  of 
European  discipline  over  the  valour  of  the 
irregular  cavalry  of  the  East.  Still  tlie  de- 
struction of  the  enterprising  Bey  was  far 
from  complete.  Reinforced  by  a  body  of 
cavalry,  Dessaix,  in  the  month  of  Decern 
ber  1798,  again  attacked  him,  and,  after  a 
number  of  encounters,  terminating  general- 
ly to  the  advantage  of  the  French,  the  re- 
maining Mamelukes,  with  their  allies  the 
Arabs,  were  at  length  compelled  to  take 
shelter  in  the  Desert.  Egypt  seemed  en- 
tirely at  the  command  of  the  French  ;  and 
Cosseir,  a  sea-port  on  the  Red  Sea.  had 
been  taken  possession  of  by  a  flotilla,  fitted 
out  to  command  that  gulf. 

Three  or  four  weeks  after  Buonaparte's 
return  from  Syria,  this  flattering  state  of 
tranquillity  seemed  on  the  point  of  being 
disturbed.  Murad  Bey,  re-entering  Upper 
Egypt  with  his  Mamelukes  and  allies,  de- 
scended the  Nile  in  two  bodies,  one  occu- 
pying each  bank  of  the  river.  Ibrahim  Bey, 
formerly  his  partner  in  the  government  of 
Egypt,  made  a  corresponding  movement 
towards  the  frontiers  of  Syria,  as  if  to  com- 
municate with  the  right-hand  division  of 
Murad's  army.  La  Grange  was  despatched 
against  the  Mamelukes  who  occupied  the 
right  bank,  while  Murat  marched  against 
those  who,  under  the  Bey  himself,  were 
descending  the  Nile.  The  French  were 
entertained  at  the  idea  of  the  two  Murats, 
as  they  termed  them,  from  the  similarity 
of  their  names,  meeting  and  encountering 
each  other ;  but  the  Mameluke  Murad  re- 
treated before  Le  Beau  Sabreur — the  hand- 
some swordsman — of  the  French  army. 

Meantime  the  cause  of  this  incursion 
was  explained  by  the  appearance  of  a  Turk- 
ish fleet  off  Alexandria,  who  disembarked 
eighteen  thousand  men  at  Aboukir,  This 
Turkish  army  possessed  themselves  of  the 
fort,  and  proceeded  to  fortify  themselves, 
expecting  the  arrival  of  the  Mamelukes, 
according  to  the  plan  which  had  previous 
ly  been  adjusted  for  expelling  the  French 
from  Egypt.  This  news  reached  Buona- 
parte near  the  Pyramids,  to  which  he  had 
advanced,  in  order  to  ensure  the  destruc- 
tion of  Murad  Bey.  The  arrival  of  the 
Turks  instantly  recalled  him  to  Alexandria, 
whence  he  marched  to  Aboukir  to  repel 
the  invaders.  He  joined  his  army,  which 
had  assembled  from  all  points  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  Turkish  camp,  and  was  em- 
fdoyed  late  in  the  night  making  prepara- 
tions for  the  battle  on  the  next  morning. 
Murat  was  alone  with  Buonaparte,  when 
the  last  suddenly  made  the  oracular  decla- 
ration, "  Go  how  It  will,  this  battle  will  de- 
cide the  fate  of  the  world." 

"  The  fate  of  this  army,  at  least,"  replied 
Murat,  who  did  not  comprehend  Buona- 
parte's secret  meaning.  "  But  the  Turks 
are  without  horse,  and  if  ever  infantry  were 
charged  to  the  teeth  by  cavalry,  they  shall 
be  so  charged  to-morrow  by  mine." 

Napoleon's  meaning,  however,  referred 
not  to  Egypt  alone,  but  to  Europe  ;  to  which 
he  probably  already  meditated  .an  unexpect- 
ed return,  which  must  have  been  prevented 
had  he  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  most 


306 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XXXII. 


complete  triumph  over  the  Turks.  The 
leaving  his  Egyptian  army,  a  dubious  step 
at  best,  would  have  been  altogether  inde- 
fensible had  there  remained  an  enemy  in 
their  front. 

Next  morning,  being  the  25th  July,  Buo- 
naparte commenced  an  attack  on  the  ad- 
vanced posts  of  the  enemy,  and  succeeded 
in  driving  them  in  upon  the  rasin  body, 
which  was  commanded  by  Seid  Mustapha 
Pacha.  In  their  first  attack,  the  French 
were  eminently  successful,  and  pursued 
the  fugitive  Turks  to  their  entrenchments, 
doing  great  execution.  But  when  the  bat- 
teries opened  upon  them  from  the  trenches, 
while  they  were  at  the  same  time  exposed 
to  the  fire  from  the  gun-boats  in  the  bay, 
their  impetuosity  was  checked,  and  the 
Turks  sallying  out  upon  them  with  their 
muskets  slung  at  their  backs,  made  such 
havoc  among  the  French  with  their  sabres, 
poniards,  and  pistols,  as  compelled  them  to 
retreat  in  their  turn.  The  advantage  was 
lost  by  the  eagerness  of  the  barbarians  to 
possess  themselves  of  the  heads  of  their 
fallen  enemies,  for  which  they  receive  a 
certain  reward.  They  threw  themselves 
confusedly  out  of  the  entrenchments  to  ob- 
tain these  bloody  testimonials,  and  were  in 
considerable  disorder,  when  the  French 
Buddenly  rallied,  charged  them  with  great 
fury,  drove  them  back  into  the  works,  and 
scaled  the  ramparts  along  with  them. 

Murat  had  made  good  his  promise  of  the 
preceding  evening,  and  had  been  ever  in 
the  front  of  the  battle.  When  the  French 
had  surmounted  the  entrenchments,  he 
formed  a  column  which  reversed  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Turks,  and  pressing  them  with 
the  bayonet,  threw  them  into  utter  and  in- 
extricable confusion.  Fired  upon  and  at- 
tacked on  every  point,  they  became,  instead 
of  an  army,  a  confused  rabble,  who,  in  the 
impetuosity  of  animal  terror,  threw  them- 
selves by  hundreds  and  by  thousands  into 
the  sea,  which  at  once  seemed  covered  with 
turbans.  It  was  no  longer  a  battle,  but  a 
massacre ;  and  it  was  only  when  wearied 
with  slaughter  that  quarter  was  given  to 
about  six  thousand  men — the  rest  of  the 
Turkish  army,  originally  consisting  of  eigh- 
teen thousand,  perished  on  the  field  or  in 
the  waves.  Mustapha  Pacha  was  taken, 
and  carried  in  triumph  before  Buonaparte. 
The  haughty  Turk  had  not  lost  his  pride 
with  his  fortunes.  "  I  will  take  care  to 
inform  the  Sultan,"  said  the  victor,  mean- 
ing to  be  courteous,  "  of  the  courage  you 
displayed  in  this  battle,  though  it  has  been 
your  mishap  to  lose  it." 

"  Thou  may'st  save  thyself  the  trouble," 
answered  the  prisoner  haughtily ;  "  my  mas- 
ter knows  me  better  than  thou  canst." 

Buonaparte  returned  in  triumph  to  Cairo 
on  the  9th  August ;  having,  however,  as  he 
continued  to  represent  himself  friendly  to 
the  Porte,  previously  set  on  foot  a  negotia- 
tion for  liberation  of  the  Turkish  prison- 
ers. 

This  splendid  and  most  decisive  victory 
of  Aboukir  concluded  Napoleon's  career  in 
the  East.  It  was  imperiously  necessary, 
ere  he  could  have  ventured  to  quit  the  com- 


mand of  his  army,  with  the  hope  of  pre- 
serving his  credit  with  the  public  ;  and  it 
enabled  him  to  plead  that  he  left  Egypt  for 
the  time  in  absolute  security. 

His  military  views  had  indeed  been  uni- 
formly successful ;  and  Egypt  was  under 
the  dominion  of  France  as  completely  as 
the  sword  could  subject  it.  For  two  yeara 
afterwards,  like  the  strong  man  in  the  para- 
ble, they  kept  the  house  which  they  had 
won,  until  there  came  in  a  stronger,  by 
whom  they  were  finally  and  forcibly  ex- 
pelled. 

But  though  the  victory  over  the  Turks 
afforded  the  French  for  the  time  undisturb- 
ed possession  of  Egypt,  the  situation  of 
Buonaparte  no  longer  permitted  him  those 
brilliant  and  immense  prospects,  in  which 
his   imagination   loved  to  luxuriate.     Hia 
troops   were  considerably   weakened,   and 
the  miscarriage  at  Acre  dwelt  on  the  recol- 
lection of  the  su'Vivors.    The  march  upoa 
Constantinople  was  now  an  impossibility, 
that  to  India  an  empty  dream.    To  estab- 
lish a  French  colony  in  Egypt,  of  which 
Buonaparte  sometimes  talked,  and  to  re- 
store the  Indian  traffic  to  the  shores  of  the 
Red  Sea,  thus  sapping  the  sources  of  British 
prosperity  in  India,  was  a  work  for  the  time 
of  peace,  when  the  necessary  communica- 
tion was  not  impeded  by  the  naval  superiori- 
ty of  England.    The  French  General  had  es- 
tablished, indeed,  a  Chamber  of  Commerce ; 
but  what  commerce  could  take  place  from 
a  closely  blockaded  harbour  1    Indeed,  even 
in  a  more  propitious  season,  the  establish- 
ment of  a  pacific  colony  was  no  task  for 
the  ardent  and  warlike  Napoleon,  who,  al- 
though his  active  spirit  was  prompt  in  strik- 
ing out  commercial  schemes,  was  not  pos- 
sessed of  the  patience  or  steadiness  neces- 
sary to  carry  them  to  success.    It  follows, 
that  if  he  remained  in  Egypt,  his  residence 
there  must  have  resembled  the  situation  of 
a  governor  in  a  large  city,  threatened  in- 
deed, but  as  yet  in  no  danger  of  being  be- 
sieged, where  the  only  fame  which  can  be 
acquired  is  that  due  to  prudent  and  patient 
vigilance.    This  would  be  a  post  which  no 
young  or  ambitious    soldier  would  covet, 
providing  he  had  the  choice  of  being  engag- 
ed in  more  active  service.    On  the  other 
hand,  from  events  which  we  shall  endeav- 
our to  trace   in   the   next  chapter,  there 
opened  a  scene   of   ambition    in   France,    } 
which  permitted  an  almost  boundless  extent 
of  hopes  and  wishes.    Thus  Napoleon  had 
the  choice  either  of  becoming  a  candidate 
for  one  of  the   greatest  prizes  which  the 
world  afforded— the  supreme  authority   in 
that  fine  country — or  of  remaining  the  gov- 
ernor of  a  defensive  army  in  Egypt,  wait- 
ing the  arrival  of  some  new  invaders — Eng- 
lish, Russians,  or  Turks,  to  dispute  his  con- 
quest with  him.    Had  he  chosen  this  latter 
line  of  conduct,  he  might  have  soon  found 
himself  the  vassal  of  Moreau,  or  some  other 
military  adventurer,  (perhaps  from  his  own 
Italian  army,)  who,  venturing  on  the  course 
from  which  he  had  himself  withdrawn,  had 
attained  to  the  government  of  France,  and 
might  soon  have  been  issuing  orders  from 
the  Luxembourg  or  the  Tuilleries  to  Gen- 


Chap.  XXXII]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


307 


«!ral  Buonaparte,  in  the  style  of  a  sovereign 
to  his  subject. 

There  remained  to  be  separated  those 
strong  ties,  which  were  formed  betwixt 
Napoleon  and  the  army  which  he  had  so 
often  led  to  victory,  and  who  unquestiona- 
bly thought  he  had  cast  his  lot  to  live  or 
die  with  them.  But  undoubtedly  he  might 
palliate  his  departure  by  the  consideration, 
that  he  left  them  victorious  over  their 
boastful  enemy,  and  without  the  chance  of 
being  speedily  summoned  to  the  field  ;  and 
we  can  see  no  reason  for  supposing,  as  has 
been  alleged,  that  anything  like  fear  had 
an  influence  in  inducing  Napoleon's  deser- 
tion, as  it  has  been  termed,  of  his  army. 
We  cannot,  indeed,  give  him  credit  for  the 
absolute  and  pure  desire  of  serving  and  sav- 
ing France,  which  is  claimed  by  his  more 
devoted  adherents,  as  the  sole  motive  of 
his  return  to  Europe  ;  but  we  h.ive  no  doubt 
that  some  feelings  of  this  kind — to  which, 
as  we  are  powerful  in  deceiving  ourselves, 
be  himself  might  afford  more  weight  than 
they  deserved— mingled  with  his  more  self- 
ish hopes,  and  that  he  took  this  important 
step  with  the  desire  of  serving  his  country, 
as  well  as  of  advancing  his  own  interest. 
Nor  should  it  be  forgotten,  that  the  wel- 
fare even  of  the  Eg}r'ptian  army,  as  well  as 
his  own  ambitious  views,  required  that  he 
should  try  his  fortune  at  Paris.  If  he  did 
not  personally  exert  himself  there,  it  seem- 
ed highly  probable  some  revolution  might 
take  place,  in  which  one  of  the  consequen- 
ces might  be,  that  the  victors  of  Egypt,  de- 
serted by  their  countrymen,  should  be  com- 
pelled to  lay  down  their  arms. 

The  Circumstances  in  which  Buonaparte's 
resolution  is  said  to  have  originated,  as  re- 
lated by  himself,  were  singularly  fortuitous. 
Some  intercourse  took  place  with  the  Turk- 
ish fleet,  in  consequence  of  his  sending 
the  wounded  Turks  on  board,  and  Sir  Sidney 
Smith,  by  way  of  taunting  the  French  gen- 
eral with  the  successes  of  the  Russians  in 
Italy,  sent  him  a  set  of  newspapers  contain- 
ing an  account  of  Suwarrow's  victories,  and 
a  deplorable  view  of  the  French  affairs  on 
the  continent.  If  we  may  trust  other  au- 
thorities, however,  to  be  quoted  in  their 
proper  place,  he  already  knew  the  state  of 
affairs,  both  in  Italy  and  France,  by  his 
own  secret  correspondence  with  Paris,  in- 
forming him  not  only  of  the  military  re- 
verses which  the  armies  of  the  latter  coun- 
try had  sustained,  but  of  the  state  of  par- 
ties, and  of  the  public  mind, — intelligence 
of  greater  utility  and  accuracy  than  could 
have  been  communicated  by  the  English 
newspapers. 

Howsoever  his  information  was  derived, 
Buonaparte  lost  no  time  in  acting  upon  it, 
with  all  the  secrecy  which  a  matter  of  such 
importance  required.  Admiral  Ganthe- 
aume,  who  had  been  with  the  army  ever 
since  the  destruction  of  the  fleet,  received 
the  General's  orders  to  make  ready  for  sea, 
with  all  possible  despatch,  two  frigates 
then  lying  in  the  harbour  of  Alexandria. 

Meantime,  determined  to  preserve  his 
credit  with  the  Institute,  and  to  bring  evi- 
dence of  what  he  had  done  for  the  cause 


of  science,  Buonaparte  commanded  Mon- 
ge,  who  is  said  to  have  suggested  the  expe- 
dition, and  the  accomplished  Denon,  who 
became  its  historian,  with  Berthollet,  to 
prepare  to  accompany  him  to  Alexandria. 
Of  military  chiefs,  he  selected  the  gener- 
als Berthier,  Murat,  Lannes,  Maxmont, 
Dessaix,  Andreossi,  and  Bessieres,  the  best 
and  most  attached  of  his  ofiicers.  He  left 
Cairo  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  frigates  were 
ready  and  the  sea  open,  making  a  visit  to 
the  Delta  the  pretext  of  his  tour.  Kleber 
and  Menou,  whom  he  meant  to  leave  first 
and  second  in  command,  were  appointed  to 
meet  him  at  Alexandria,  But  he  had  an  in- 
terview with  the  latter  only. 

Kleber,  an  excellent  soldier,  and  a  man 
of  considerable  parts,  was  much  displeased 
at  the  hasty  and  disordered  manner  in  which 
the  command  of  an  important  province,  and 
a  diminiihed  army,  were  thrust  upon  him, 
and  remonstrated,  in  a  letter  to  the  Direc- 
tory, upon  the  several  points  of  the  public 
service,  which,  by  his  conduct  on  this  oc- 
casion, Buonaparte  had  neglected  or  en- 
dan<rered.  Napoleon  afterwards  laboured 
hard  to  answer  the  accusations  which  these 
remonstrances  implied,  and  to  prove,  that, 
in  leaving  the  Egyptian  army,  he  had  no  in- 
tention of  abandoning  it  ;  on  the  contrary, 
that  he  intended  either  to  return  in  person, 
or  to  send  powerful  succours.  He  blamed 
Gantheaume,  at  a  later  period,  for  not  hav- 
ing made  his  way  from  Toulon  to  Alexan- 
dria, with  reinforcements  and  supplies. 
But  Buonaparte,  slow  to  see  what  contra- 
dicted a  favourite  project,  could  never  be 
made  to  believe,  unless  when  in  the  very 
act  of  experiencing  it,  that  the  superiority 
of  the  British  naval  power  depends  upoa 
circumstances  totally  different  from  those 
which  can  be  removed  by  equal  courage,  or 
even  equal  skill,  on  the  part  of  the  French 
naval  officers,  and  that  until  it  be  removed, 
it  will  be  at  great  hazard  that  France  shall 
ever  attempt  to  retain  a  province  so  distant 
as  Egypt. 

Napoleon  left  behind  him  a  short  procla- 
mation, apprising  the  army  that  news  of 
importance  from  France  had  recalled  him 
to  Europe,  but  that  they  should  soon  hear 
tidings  of  him.  He  exhorted  them  in  the 
meantime  to  have  confidence  in  their  new 
commander,  who  possessed,  he  said,  hia 
good  opinion,  and  that  of  the  government, 
and  in  these  terms  he  bade  them  farewell. 
Two  frigates.  La  Muiron.  and  La  Carere, 
being  ready  for  sea,  the  General  embarked 
from  an  unfrequented  part  of  the  beach  on 
the  23d  August,  Menou,  who  had  met  him 
there,  came  to  Denon  and  others,  who  had 
attended  the  rendezvous  without  knowing 
exactly  its  purpose,  as  they  were  gazing  in 
surprise  at  the  unusual  sight  of  two  French 
frigates  ready  to  put  to  sea,  and  informed 
them  with  agitation  that  Buonaparte  waited 
for  them.  They  followed  as  in  a  dream; 
but  Denon  had  already  secured  that  mass 
of  measurements,  drawings,  manuscripts, 
and  objects  of  antiquarian  and  scientific  cu- 
riosity, which  afterwards  enabled  him  to 
complete  the  splendid  work,  which  now 
contains  the  only  permanent  or  useful  fruita 


308 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       [CAap.  XXXUI. 


of  the  memorable  expedition  to   Egypt. 

Ere  the  frigates  were  far  from  land,  they 
were  reconnoitred  by  an  English  corvette, 
a  circumstance  which  seemed  of  evil  au- 
gury. Buonaparte  assured  his  companions, 
by  his  usual  allusions  to  his  own.  destiny. 
"  We  will  arrive  safe,''  he  said;  "  Fortune 
will  never  abandon  us — we  will  arrive  safe 
in  despite  of  the  enemy." 

To  avoid  the  English  cruisers,  the  ves- 
sels coasted  the  shores  of  Africa,  and  the 
wind  was  so  contrary,  that  they  made  but 
an  hundred  leagues  in  twenty  days.  During 
this  time  Buonaparte  studied  alternately 
the  Bible  and  the  Koran,  more  solicitous, 
it  seemed,  about  the  history  of  the  coun- 
tries which  he  had  left  behind,  than  the 
part  which  he  was  to  play  in  that  to  which 
he  was  hastening.  At  length  they  ventured 
to  stand  northward,  and  on  the  30th  Sep- 
tember, they  entered  by  singular  chance, 
the  port  of  Ajaecio  in  Corsica,  and  Buona- 
parte found  himself  near  his  native  city.* 
On  the  7th  October,  they  again  put  to  sea, 
but,  upon  approaching  the  French  coast, 
they  found  themselves  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  a  squadron  of  English  men-of-war.  The 
admiral  would  have  tacked  about,  to  return 


*  The  natives  came  off  in  numbera  to  see  their 
illustrioua  countryman,  but  a3  he  does  not  appear 
to  have  landed,  his  transient  presence  in  the  har- 
bour formed  no  exception  to  what  is  said  iu  p.  200, 
offals  not  revisiting  his  own  country. 


to  Corsica.  "  To  do  so,"  said  Buonaparte, 
"  would  be  to  take  the  road  to  England — I 
am  seeking  that  to  France."  He  probably 
meant  that  the  manoeuvre  would  attract  the 
attention  of  the  English.  They  kept  on 
their  course  ;  but  the  peril  of  being  captur- 
ed seemed  so  imminent,  that,  though  still 
several  leagues  from  the  shore,  Gantheaume 
proposed  to  man  his  long-boat,  in  order 
that  the  General  might  attempt  his  escape 
in  her.  Buonaparte  observed,  that  that 
measure  might  be  deferred  till  the  case 
was  more  desperate. 

At  length,  they  passed,  unsuspected  and 
unquestioned,  through  the  hostile  squadron, 
and  on  the  9th  October,  at  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  on  whose  fate  the  world  so  long 
seemed  to  depend,  landed  at  St.  Rapheau, 
near  Frejus.  He  had  departed  at  the  head 
of  a  powerful  fleet,  and  a  victorious  army, 
on  an  expedition  designed  to  alter  the  des- 
tinies of  the  most  ancient  nations  of  the 
world.  The  result  had  been  far  from  com- 
mensurate to  the  means  employed — The 
fleet  had  perished — the  army  was  blockaded 
in  a  distant  province,  when  their  arms  were 
most  necessary  at  home.  He  returned 
clandestinely,  and  almost  alone ;  yet  Provi- 
dence designed  that,  in  this  apparently  de- 
serted condition,  he  should  be  the  instru- 
ment of  more  extensive  and  more  aston- 
ishing changes,  than  the  efforts  of  tne 
greatest  conquerors  had  ever  before  been 
able  to  effect  upon  the  civilized  world. 


CBAF.  XXZIII. 

Retrospect  of  Public  Events  since  the  departure  of  Napoleon  for  E^ypt. — Invasion  and 
Conquest  of  Switzerland. — Seizure  of  Turhi. — Expulsion  of  the  Pope. —  77ie  Nea- 
politans declare  War  against  France — are  Defeated — and  the  French  enter  Naples. — 
Disgraceful  Avarice  exhibited  by  the  Directory — particularly  in  their  Negoiiationa 
with  the  United  States  of  America — Are  unsuccessful,  and  their  shame  made  public. 
— Rttssia  comes  forward  in  the  general  Cause — Her  Strength  and  Resources. — 
Reverses  of  the  French  in  Italy,  and  on  the  Rhine. — Insurrections  in  Belgium  and 
Holland  against  the  French. — Anglo-Russian  Expedition  sent  to  Holland. —  The 
Chouans  again  in  the  fuld. — Cheat  and  universal  Unpopularity  of  the  Directory. — 
State  of  Parties  in  France. — Law  of  Hostages. — Abbe  Sieyes  becomes  one  of  the  Di- 
rectory— His  Character  and  Genius. — Description  of  the  Constitution  proposed  by 
him  for  the  Year  Three. — Ducos,  Gohier.  and  Moulins,  aho  introduced  into  the  Direc- 
tory.— Family  of  Napoleon  strive  to  keep  him  in  the  Recollection  of  the  People. 
— Favourable  Change  in  the  French  Affairs. — Holland  evacuated  by  the  Anglo- 
Rzissian  Army. — Korsakow  defeated  by  Masstna — and  Suwarrow  retreats  before 
Lecourbe. 


Whem  Napoleon  accepted  what  was  to  be 
considered  as  a  doom  of  honourable  ban- 
ishment, in  the  command  of  the  Egyptian 
Cipedition,  he  answered  to  those  friends 
who  advised  him  rather  to  stay  and  assert 
a  pre-eminent  station  in  the  government  at 
home,  "that  the  fruit  was  not  ripe."  The 
seventeen  months,  or  thereabouts,  of  his 
absence,  had  done  much  to  complete  the 
maturity  which  was  formerly  imperfect. 
The  French  government  had  ceased  to  be 
invariably  victorious,  and  at  times  had  suf- 
fered internal  changes,  which,  instead  of 
restoring  the  national  confidence,  had  only 
induced  a  general  expectation  of  some  far- 
ther &nd  decisive  revolution,  that  should 


for  ever  overthrow  the  Directorial  system. 
When  Buonaparte  sailed  for  Egypt,  he 
left  France  at  peace  with  Austria,  and 
those  negotiations  proceeding  at  Radstadt, 
which  no  one  then  doubted  would  settle  on 
a  pacific  footing  the  affairs  of  Germany. 
England  alone  remained  hostile  to  France  ; 
but  the  former  being  victorious  on  the  sea, 
and  the  latter  upon  the  land,  it  seemed  aa 
if  the  war  must  languish  and  die  of  itself  un- 
less there  had  been  a  third  element,  of 
which  the  rivals  might  have  disputed  the 
possession.  But  though  the  interests  of 
France,  as  well  as  of  humanity,  peremptori- 
ly demanded  peace,  her  rulers,  feeling  that 
her  own  tottering  condition  would  be  ren- 


Chap.  XXXIII]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAP.\RTE. 


309 


dcred  still  more  precarious  by  the  disband- 
ing their  numerousarmies,  resolved  to  con- 
tinue the  war  in  a  new  quarter. 

Under  the  most  flimsy  and  injurious  pre- 
texts, they  attacked  the  neutral  states  of 
Switzerland,  so  eminent  for  their  modera- 
tion ;  and  the  French  troops,  levied  in  the 
name  of  Freedom,  were  sent  to  assail  that 
country  which  had  been  so  long  her  moun- 
tain fortress.  The  ancient  valour  of  the 
Switzers  was  unable  to  defend  them 
against  the  new  discoveries  in  the  art  of 
war,  by  which  the  strongest  defiles  can  be 
turned,  and  therefore  rendered  indefensible. 
They  fought  with  their  ancient  courage, 
particularly  the  natives  of  the  mountain 
cantons,  and  only  gave  way  before  numbers 
and  discipline.  But  these  gallant  moun- 
taineers sacrificed  more  than  thrice  their 
own  amount,  ere  they  fell  in  their  ranks,  as 
became  the  countrymen  of  William  Tell. 
The  French  affected  to  give  the  Swiss  a 
constitution  on  the  model  of  their  own,  but 
this  was  a  mere  farce.  The  arsenals,  for- 
tresses, and  treasures  of  the  cantons,  were 
seized  without  scruple  or  apology,  and  the 
Swiss  were  treated  in  all  respects  like  a 
conquered  nation.  The  fate  of  this  ancient 
and  unoffending  people  excited  deep  and 
general  fear  and  detestation,  and  tended 
more  perhaps  than  any  other  event,  to  raise 
the  animosity  of  Europe  in  general  against 
France,  as  a  country  which  had  now  plain- 
ly shown,  that  her  ambition  could  be  bound- 
ed by  no  consideration  of  justice  or  inter- 
national law. 

The  King  of  Sardinia,  who  had  first  ac- 
knowledged the  superiority  of  Buonaparte, 
and  purchased  his  existence  as  a  continent- 
al sovereign,  by  surrendering  all  his  fortres- 
ses to  France,  and  permitting  her  troops  to 
march  through  his  country  as  their  own,  had 
surely  some  claim  to  forbearance  ;  but  now 
without  even  a  pretext  for  such  violence, 
the  French  seized  upon  Turin,  the  capital 
of  this  their  vassal  monarch,  and  upon  all 
his  continental  dominions,  sending  him  and 
his  family  to  the  island  of  Sardinia. 

.\nother  victim  there  was  of  the  French 
grasping  ambition,  in  whose  fate  the  Catho- 
lic world  was  deeply  interested.  We  have 
seen  already,  that  Buonaparte,  though  he 
despoiled  the  Pope  of  power  and  treasure, 
judged  it  more  prudent  to  permit  him  to 
subsist  as  a  petty  prince,  than  by  depriving 
him  of  all  temporal  authority,  to  drive  him 
to  desperation,  and  oblige  him  to  use 
against  the  Republic  those  spiritual  weap- 
ons, to  which  the  public  opinion  of  Catho- 
lic countries  still  assigned  strength.  But 
the  Directory  were  of  a  different  opinion ; 
and  though  the  Pope  had  submitted  pas- 
sively to  every  demand  which  had  been 
made  by  the  French  ambassador,  however 
inconsistent  with  the  treaty  of  Tolentino, 
the  Directory,  with  the  usual  policy  of 
their  nation,  privately  encouraged  a  party  in 
Rome  which  desired  a  revolution.  These 
conspirators  arose  in  arms,  and.  when  dis- 
persed by  the  guards,  fled  towards  the  ho- 
tel of  Joseph  Buonaparte,  then  the  ambassa- 
dor of  the  French  to  th«  Pope.  In  the 
:  cuffle  which  ensued,  the  ambassador  was 


insulted,  his  life  endangered,  and  General 
Duphot  actually  killed  by  his  side.  This 
outrage  of  course  sealed  the  fall  of  the 
Pope,  which  had  probably  long  been  deter- 
mined on.  Expelled  from  his  dominions, 
the  aged  Pius  VI.  retired  to  Sienna,  more 
the  object  of  respect  and  veneration  in  his 
condition  of  a  dethroned  exile,  than  whea 
holding  the  semblance  of  authority  by  per- 
mission of  France.  In  place  of  the  Pon- 
tiff's government  arose  the  shadow  of  a 
mighty  name.  The  Roman  Republic.  But 
the  Gauls  were  in  possession  of  the  Capi- 
tol, nor  did  the  ancient  recollections,  con- 
nected vnth  the  title  of  the  new  common- 
wealth, procure  for  the  Romans  more  inde- 
pendent authority  than  was  possessed  by 
any  of  the  other  ephemera]  republican  gov- 
ernments. 

In  the  fall  of  the  Pope,  and  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  Roman  territories  by  a  French 
army,  the  King  of  Naples  saw  the  nation 
whom  he  feared  and  hated,  and  by  whom 
he  knew  he  was  considered  as  a  desirable 
subject  of  plunder,  approach  his  frontiers, 
and  become  his  neighbours.  War  he  per- 
ceived was  unavoidable  ;  acid  he  formed  the 
resolution  to  be  the  first  in  declaring  it. 
The  victory  of  Nelson,  and  the  interest 
which  that  distinguished  here  acquired  at 
v.hat  might  be  called  a  female  court,  with 
the  laurels  of  the  Nile  fresh  upon  his  brow, 
confirmed  the  Neapolitan  government  in 
the  resolution.  Mack,  an  Austrian  gener- 
al, who  had  got  the  reputation  of  a  great 
tactician  and  a  gallant  soldier,  was  sent  by 
the  Emperor  to  discipline  and  command 
the  Neapolitan  army.  Nelson's  falcon  eye 
measured  the  man's  worth  at  once.  '•  Gen- 
eral Mack,''  said  he,  "  cannot  move  with- 
out five  carriages — I  have  formed  my  opin- 
ion— I  heartily  pray  I  may  be  mistaken.'' 
He  was  not  mistaken.  The  Neapolitan 
army  marched  toPiome,  was  encountered 
by  the  French,  fought  just  long  enough  to 
lose  about  forty  men,  then  fled,  abandoning 
guns,  baggage,  arms,  and  everj'thing  be- 
sides. "'  The  Neapolitan  officers  did  not 
lose  much  honour,"  said  Nelson,  "  for  God 
knows  they  had  little  to  lose — but  they  lost 
what  they  had."  The  prescient  eye,  which 
was  as  accurate  by  land  as  by  sea,  had  also 
foreseen  the  instant  advance  of  the  French 
to  Naples.  It  took  place  accordingly,  but 
not  unresisted.  The  naked  rabble,  called 
Lazzaroni,  showed  the  most  desperate  cour- 
age. They  attacked  the  French  ere  they 
came  to  the  city ;  and  notwithstanding  a 
murderous  defeat,  they  held  out  Naples  for 
two  days  with  their  irregular  musketry  only, 
against  regular  forces  amply  supplied  with 
artillery.  What  can  we  say  of  a  country, 
where  the  rabble  are  courageous  and  the 
soldiers  cowards  ?  what,  unless  that  thfe 
higher  classes,  from  whom  the  officers  are 
chosen,  must  be  the  parties  to  be  censur- 
ed. 

The  royal  family  fled  to  Sicily ;  and  in 
Naples  a  new  classical-sounding  govern- 
ment was  created  at  the  command  of  the 
French  general, — The  Parthenopean  Re- 
public. The  French  were  now  possessed 
of  all  Italy,  excepting  Tuscany,  and  that 


310 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       [Chap.  XXXJU. 


was  exempted  from  their  authority  in  name 
only,  and  not  in  effect. 

The  French  people,  notwithstanding  the 
success  of  these  several  undertakings,  were 
not  deceived  or  flattered  by  them  in  a  de- 
gree equal  to  what  probably  their  rulers  ex- 
pected. Their  vanity  was  alarmed  at  the 
meanness  of  the  motives  which  the  Direct- 
ory exhibited  on  almost  every  occasion. 
Even  the  dazzling  pride  of  conquest  was 
sullied  by  the  mercenary  views  with  which 
war  was  undertaken.  On  one  occasion  the 
•veil  was  raised,  and  all  Frenchmen  who  had 
feelings  of  decency,  not  to  say  of  probity  or 
honour,  remaining,  must  have  held  them- 
Belves  disgraced  by  the  venal  character  of 
their  government. 

Some  disputes  existing  between  France 
and  the  United  States  of  America,  com- 
missioners were  sent  by  the  latter  country 
to  Paris,  to  endeavour  to  restore  a  good  un- 
derstanding. They  were  not  publicly  ac- 
knowledged by  France  in  the  character  of 
ambassadors ;  but  were  distinctly  given  to 
understand,  that  they  could  only  be  permit- 
ted to  treat,  on  condition  that  the  States  of 
America  should  lend  to  the  Republic  the 
sum  of  a  million  sterling;  to  which  was  ad- 
ded, the  unblushing  demand  of  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds,  as  a  douceur,  for  the  private 
pocket  of  the  Directors.  The  astonishment 
iif  the  envoys  was  extreme  at  this  curious 
diplomatic  proposal,  and  they  could  hardly 
credit  their  ears  when  they  heard  it  repeat- 
<'dly  and  grossly  urged.  "  The  essential 
part  of  the  treaty,"  said  one  of  the  French 
a;Tents,  "  is,  il  faut  de  I'argent — il  faut 
beaucoup  d^argent ;"  and  to  render  the  mat- 
ter palatable,  he  told  the  Americans  of  oth- 
er countries  which  had  paid  large  sums  to 
obtain  peace,  and  reminded  them  of  the  ir- 
resistible power  of  France.  The  Transat- 
lantic republicans,  unmoved  by  these  argu- 
ments, stoutly  answered,  "That  it  belong- 
ed only  to  petty  states  to  purchase  inde- 
pendence by  payment  of  tribute — that 
America  was  willing  and  able  to  protect 
herself  by  arms,  and  would  not  purchase 
with  money  what  she  possessed  by  her 
powerful  means  of  self-defence."  They 
added,  "  that  they  had  no  power  whatever 
to  enter  into  any  engagements  concerning 
a  loan.'' 

The  agents  of  France  lowered  their  tone 
60  far  as  to  say,  that  if  the  commissioners 
would  pay  something  in  the  way  of  fees, 
they  might  be  permitted  to  remain  in  Paris, 
whilst  one  of  their  number  returned  to 
America  to  obtain  instructions  from  their 
government;  but  not  even  to  that  modifi- 
cation of  bribery  would  the  Americans  lis- 
ten. They  would  not,  according  to  the 
expression  used  in  incendiary  letters,  "  put 
five  pounds  in  a  certain  place."'  The  treaty 
became  public,  to  the  scandal  alike  of 
France  and  of  Europe,  which  joined  in  re- 
garding a  government  that  made  war  on 
such  base  principles,  as  standing,  in  com- 
parison to  those  who  warred  in  the  spirit 
of  conquest,  in  the  relation  of  footpaas  to 
highwaymen.  The  only  attempt  made  by 
Talleyrand  towards  explanation  of  this  sin- 
gular trajisaction,  was  a  shuffling  denial  of 


the  fact,  which  he  strengthened  by  an  in- 
sinuation, that  the  statement  of  the  Ameri- 
can envoys  was  a  weak  invention,  suggested 
to  them  by  the  English. 

Not  to  multiply  instances,  the  rapacit> 
and  domineering  insolence  with  which  the 
Directory  conducted  themselves  towards 
tjie  new  republics,  who  were  at  every  mo- 
ment made  sensible  of  their  total  depend- 
ence on  the  Great  Nation — the  merciless 
exactions  which  they  imposed,  together 
with  the  rapacious  peculations  of  many  of 
their  generals  and  agents,  made  them  lose 
interest  almost  as  fast  as  they  could  acquire 
territory.  Their  fair  pretexts  of  extending 
freedom,  and  the  benefits  of  a  liberal  gov- 
ernment, to  states  which  had  been  oppress- 
ed by  the  old  feudal  institutions,  were  now 
valued  at  no  more  than  their  worth  ;  and  it 
was  seen,  that  the  only  equality  which  re- 
publican France  extended  to  the  conquered 
countries,  was  to  render  all  classes  alike 
degraded  and  impoverished.  Thus,  the  suc- 
cesses which  we  have  hastily  enumerated 
rather  endangered  than  strengthened  the 
empire  of  France,  as  they  rendered  her 
ambition  the  object  of  fear  and  suspicion  to 
all  Europe.  The  Catholic  nations  beheld, 
the  degradation  of  the  supreme  Pontiff  with 
abhorrence — every  king  in  Europe  feared 
a  similar  fate  with  the  sovereigns  of  Sardi- 
nia and  Naples — and,  after  the  fate  of  Swit- 
zerland, no  people  could  rely  upon  a  peace- 
ful, unoffending,  and  strictly  neutral  char- 
acter, as  ground  sufficient  to  exempt  them 
from  French  aggression.  Thus  a  general 
dread  and  dislike  prepared  for  a  new  coali- 
tion against  France,  in  which  Russia,  for 
the  first  time,  was  to  become  an  active  co- 
operator. 

The  troops  of  this  powerful  empire  were 
eminently  qualified  for  encountering  with 
tlie  French;  for,  added  to  their  hardihood, 
courage,  and  discipline,  they  had  a  national 
character — a  distinction  less  known  to  the 
Germans,  whose  subdivision  into  different 
states,  often  at  war  with  each  other,  has  in 
some  degree  diminished  their  natural  spirit 
of  patriotism.  Accustomed  also  to  warfare 
on  a  great  scale,  and  to  encounter  such  an 
enemy  as  the  Turk,  the  Russians,  while 
they  understood  the  modern  system  of  tac- 
tics, were  less  servilely  bigoted  to  it  than 
the  Austrians.  Their  ideas  more  readily 
went  back  to  the  natural  and  primitive  char- 
acter of  war,  and  they  were  better  prepared 
either  to  depart  from  strict  technical  rules 
themselves,  or  to  see  them  departed  from, 
and  calculate  the  results.  These  new  ene- 
mies of  France,  moreover,  were  full  of  con- 
fidence in  their  own  character,  and  un- 
checked in  their  military  enthusiasm  by  the 
frequent  recollections  of  defeat,  which 
clouded  the  spirit  of  the  Austrians.  Above 
all,  the  Russians  had  the  advantage  of  being 
commanded  by  Suwarrow,  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  men  of  his  time,  who,  pos- 
sessed of  the  most  profound  military  sagaci- 
ty, assumed  the  external  appearance  of  fa- 
natical enthusiasm,  as  in  society  he  often 
concealed  his  perfect  knowledge  of  good 
breeding  under  the  show  of  extrava'^ant  buf- 
foonery. These  peculiarities,  which  would 


Chop.  XXXin.]       LIFE  OV  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


311 


not  have  succeeded  with  a  French  or  Eng- 
lish army,  gained  for  him  an  unbounded 
confidence  among  his  countrymen,  who 
considered  his  eccentric  conduct,  followed, 
as  it  almost  always  was,  by  brilliant  suc- 
cess, as  the  result  of  something  which  ap- 
proached to  inspiration. 

The  united  forces  of  Austria  and  Russia, 
chiefly  under  the  command  of  this  singular 
character,  succeeded,  in  a  long  train  of 
bloody  battles,  to  retake  and  re-occupy 
those  States  in  the  north  of  Italy,  which 
had  been  conquered  in  Buonaparte's  first 
campaigns.  It  was  in  vain  that  Macdonald, 
whose  name  stood  as  high  among  the  Re- 
publican generals,  as  his  character  for  hon- 
our and  rectitude  among  French  statesmen, 
marched  from  Naples,  traversing  the  whole 
length  of  Italy,  to  arrest  the  victorious  prog- 
ress of  the  allies.  After  a  train  of  stubborn 
fighting,  it  was  only  by  displaying  great 
military  talent  that  he  could  extricate  the 
remains  of  his  army.  At  length  the  deci- 
sive and  desperate  battle  of  Novi  seemed 
to  exclude  the  French  from  the  possession 
of  those  fair  Italian  provinces,  which  had 
been  acquired  by  such  expense  of  life. 

On  the  Rhine,  though  her  defeats  were 
not  of  such  a  decided  character,  France  al- 
so lost  reputation  and  territory.  Jourdan 
proved  no  match  for  the  Archduke  Charles, 
who,  having  no  longer  Buonaparte  to  en- 
counter, assorted  his  former  superiority 
over  inferior  French  generals.  His  Royal 
Highness  finally  compelled  the  French  to 
recross  the  Rhine,  while  the  Austrian  gen- 
erals Bellegarde  and  Hotze,  supported  by  a 
Russian  division  under  Korsakow,  advanc- 
ed to  the  line  of  the  Limmat,  near  Zurich, 
and  waited  the  junction  of  Suwarrow  to 
occupy  Switzerland,  and  even  to  menace 
France,  who,  in  a  great  measure  despoiled 
of  her  foreign  conquests,  had  now  reason 
to  apprehend  the  invasion  of  her  own  ter- 
ritory. 

In  the  Netherlands,  the  French  interest 
seemed  equally  insecure.  Insurrections 
had  already  taken  place  in  what  they  called 
Belgium,  and  it  seemed  that  the  natives  of 
these  populous  districts  desired  but  oppor- 
tunity and  encouragement  for  a  general  re- 
volt. Holland,  through  all  its  provinces, 
was  equally  disafl'ected  ;  and  the  reports 
from  that  country  encouraged  England  to 
send  to  the  coast  an  expedition,  consisting 
of  British  and  Russian  forces,  to  which  two 
divisions  of  the  Dutch  fleet  delivered  up 
their  vessels,  hoisting  at  the  same  time  the 
colours  of  the  Stadtholder.  Here  was  an- 
other risk  of  an  imminent  and  pressing  de- 
scription, which  menaced  Franca  and  its 
Directorial  government. 

It  remains  to  be  added  to  the  tale  of  these 
foreign  calamities,  that  the  Chouans,  or 
Royalists  nf  Bretagne,  were  again  in  the 
field  with  a  number  of  bands,  amounting,  it 
is  said,  to  forty  thousand  men  in  all.  They 
had  gained  several  successes,  and,  though 
falling  short  of  the  chivalrous  spirit  of  the 
Vendeans.  and  having  no  general  equal  in 
talents  to  Charette,  were  nevertheless  suf- 
ficiently brave  and  well  commanded,  to  be- 
come extremely  formidable,  and  threaten  a 


renewal  of  all  the  evils  which  had  been  oc- 
casioned by  the  former  civil  war. 

Amidst  these  lowering  appearances,  the 
dislike  and  disrespect  with  which  the  Di- 
rectors were  regarded,  occasioned  their  be- 
ing loaded  with  every  species  of  accusatioa 
by  the  public.  It  was  not  forgotten  that  it 
was  the  jealousy  of  Barras,  Reubel,  and  the 
other  Directors,  which  had  banished  from 
France  the  most  successful  of  her  generals, 
at  the  head  of  a  gallant  army,  who  were 
now  needed  to  defend  the  provinces  which 
their  valour  had  gained.  The  battle  of 
Aboukir,  while  it  annihilated  their  fleet,  had 
insulated  the  land  forces,  who,  now  cut  off 
from  all  communication  with  their  mother 
country,  and  shut  up  in  an  insalubrious  pro- 
vince, daily  wasted  in  encounters  with  the 
barbarous  tribes  that  valour,  and  those  lives, 
which,  hazarded  on  the  frontiers  of  France, 
might  have  restored  victory  to  their  stand- 
ards. 

To  these  upbraiding  complaints,  and  gen- 
eral accusations  of  incapacity,  as  well  as 
of  peculation,  the  Directors  had  little  to 
answer.  What  was  a  still  greater  deficien- 
cy, they  had  no  party  to  appeal  to,  by  whom 
their  cause,  right  or  wrong,  might  have 
been  advocated  with  the  stanch  adherence 
of  partisans.  They  had  undergone,  as  we 
shall  presently  show,  various  changes  in 
their  own  body,  but  without  any  alteration 
in  their  principles  of  administration,  which 
still  rested  on  the  principle  of  Bascule,  or 
see-saw,*  as  it  is  called  in  English ;  the  at- 
tempt, in  short,  to  govern  two  contending 
factions  in  the  state,  by  balancing  the  one 
against  the  other,  without  adhering  to  ei- 
ther. In  consequence  of  this  mean  and 
temporizing  policy,  which  is  always  that  of 
weak  minds,  the  measures  of  the  govern- 
ment were  considered,  not  with  reference 
to  the  general  welfare  of  the  state,  but  as 
they  should  have  effect  upon  one  or  other 
of  the  parties  by  which  it  was  divided.  It 
followed  also,  that  having  no  certain  path 
and  plan,  but  regulating  their  movements 
upon  the  wish  to  maintain  an  equality  be- 
tween the  factions,  in  order  that  they  might 
preserve  their  .authority  over  both,  the  Di- 
rectors had  no  personal  followers  or  sup- 
porters, save  that  most  sordid  class,  who 
regulate  their  politics  on  their  interest,  and 
who,  though  faithful  adherents  of  every  ^set- 
tled administration,  perceive,  by  instinctive 
sagacity,  the  moment  that  their  patrons  are 
about  to  lose  their  offices,  and  desert  their 
cause  on  such  occasions  with  all  conven- 
ient speed. 

Yet  the  Directors,  had  they  been  men  of 
talent,  "ntegrity,  and  character — above  all, 
had  they  been  united  among  themselves, 
and  agreed  on  one  steady  course  of  policy, 
might  have  governed  France  with  little  dif- 
ficulty. The  great  body  of  the  nation  were 
exhausted  by  the  previous  fury  of  the  revo- 


*  The  term,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  is 
derived  from  t!io  childish  amusement,  where  two 
hoys  swins  at  the  opposite  ends  of  a  plank,  mov- 
ing up  and  down,  in  what  Dr.  Johnson  calls  "  a 
reciprocating  motion,"  while  a  third  urchiii, 
placed  on  the  centre  of  motion,  regulates  their 
movements. 


312 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.      [Chap.  XXXIII. 


lutionary  movements,  had  supped  full  with 
politics,  and  were  much  disposed  to  sit 
dov/n  contented  under  any  government 
■which  promised  protection  for  life  and  prop- 
erty. Even  the  factions  had  lost  their  ener- 
gy. Those  who  inclined  to  a  monarchical 
form,  were  many  of  them  become  indiffer- 
ent by  whom  the  sceptre  was  wielded,  pro- 
viding that  species  of  government,  suppos- 
ed by  them  most  suitable  to  the  habits  and 
character  of  the  French,  should  be  again 
adopted.  Many  who  were  of  this  opinion 
saw  great  objection  to  the  restoration  of  the 
Bourbons,  for  fear  that  along  with  their  right 
might  revive  all  those  oppressive  feudal 
claims  which  the  Revolution  had  swept 
away,  as  well  as  the  pretensions  of  the  em- 
igrants to  resume  their  prop>crty.  Those 
who  entertained  such  sentiments  were  call- 
ed Moderes.  The  ancient  blood-red  Jaco- 
bins could  hardly  be  said  to  exist.  The  na- 
tion had  had  a  surfeit  of  blood,  and  all  par- 
ties looked  back  with  disgust  on  the  days 
of  Robespierre.  But  there  existed  a  kind 
of  white  Jacobins ;  men  who  were  desirous 
to  retain  a  large  proportion  of  democratical 
principle  in  the  constitution,  either  that 
they  might  not  renounce  the  classical  name 
of  a  Republic,  or  because  they  confided  in 
their  own  talents,  to  "wield  at  will  the 
fierce  democracy  ;"  or  because  they  really 
believed  that  a  potent  infusion  of  such  a 
spirit  in  the  forms  of  government,  was  ne- 
cessary forthe  jsreservation  of  liberty.  This 
party  was  greatly  inferior  in  numbers  to  the 
others;  and  they  had  lost  their  authority 
over  the  populace,  by  means  of  which  they 
iiad  achieved  such  changes  during  the  early 
periods  of  the  Revolution.  But  they  were 
bold,  enterprising,  active ;  and  their  chiefs, 
assuming  at  first  the  name  of  the  Pantheon, 
afterwards  of  the  Manege  Club,  formed  a 
party  in  the  state,  which,  from  the  charac- 
ter of  the  leaders,  gave  great  subject  of  jeal- 
ousy to  the  Directory. 

The  rapacity  and  insolent  bearing  of  the 
French  government  having,  as  we  have 
seen,  provoked  a  new  war  with  Austria  and 
Russia,  the  means  to  which  the  Directors 
had  recourse  for  maintaining  it  were  aforced 
loan  imposed  on  the  wealthy,  which  gave 
alarm  to  property,  and  a  conscription  of 
two  hundred  thousand  men,  which  was  alike 
distressing  to  poor  and  rich.  Both  neasures 
had  been  submitted  to  during  the  Reign  of 
Terror ;  but  then  a  murmur  cost  the  com- 
plainer  his  head.  The  Directory  had  no 
such  summary  mode  of  settling  grievances. 
These  two  last  inflictions  greatly  inflamed 
the  public  discontent.  To  meet  the  gener- 
al tendency  to  insurrection,  they  had  re- 
course to  a  measure  equally  harsh  and  un- 
popular. It  was  called  the  Law  of  Hosta- 
ges, by  which  the  unoffending  relatives  of 
emigrants,  or  royalists,  supposed  to  be  in 
arms,  were  thrown  into  prison,  and  render- 
ed responsible  for  the  acts  of  their  conne.\- 
ions.  This  unjust  law  filled  the  prisons 
with  women,  old  men,  and  children, — vic- 
tims of  a  government  which,  because  it  was 
not  strong  enough  to  subdue  insurrection 
by  direct  force,  visited  the  consequences 


of  its  own  weakness  on  age,  childhood,  and 
helpless  females. 

Meantime  the  dissensions  among  the  Di- 
rectors themselves,  which  continued  to  in- 
crease, led  to  various  changes  within  their 
own  body.  When  Buonaparte  left  Europe, 
the  Directory  consisted  of  Barras,  Reubel, 
Treilbard,  Merlin,  Reveilliere-Lepaux.  The 
opposition  attacked  them  with  so  much  fury 
in  the  Legislative  Assemblies,  Boulay  dela 
Meurthe,  Lucien  Buonaparte,  Francois,  and 
otlier  men  of  talent  leading  the  way,  that  at 
length  the  Directors  appear  to  have  become 
afraid  of  being  made  personally  responsible 
by  impeachment  for  the  peculations  of  their 
agents,  as  well  as  for  the  result  of  the  inso- 
lences by  wliich  they  had  exasperated  the 
friends  and  allies  of  France.  Reubel,  he 
whose  character  for  talent  and  integrity 
stood  most  fair  with  the  public,  was  re 
moved  from  office  by  the  lot  which  au- 
nounco'l  him  as  the  Director  who  was  to 
retire.  It  has  been  said  some  art  was  used 
to  guide  fortune  on  this  occasion.  His  name 
in  the  list  was  succeeded  by  one  celebrated 
in  the  Revolution  ;  that  of  the  .\bbe  Sieyes. 

This  remarkable  statesman  had  acquired 
a  high  reputation,  not  only  by  the  acutenesa 
of  his  metaphysical  talent,  but  by  a  species 
of  mystery  in  which  he  involved  himself 
and  his  opinions.  He  was  certainly  pos- 
sessed of  great  knowledge  and  experience 
in  the  affairs  of  France,  was  an  adept  in  the 
composition  of  new  constitutions  of  all 
kinds,  and  had  got  a  high  cliaractcr,  as  pos- 
sessed of  secets  peculiarly  his  own,  for 
conducting  ti.e  vessel  of  the  State  amidst 
the  storms  of  Revolution.  The  Abbe  in 
fact  managed  his  political  reputation  as  a 
prudent  trader  does  his  stock-,  and  by  shun- 
ning to  venture  on  anything  which  could  in 
any  great  degree  peril  his  credit,  he  extend- 
ed it  in  the  public  opinion,  perhaps  much 
farther  than  his  parts  justified.  A  temper 
less  daring  in  action  than  bold  in  metaphys- 
ical speculation,  and  a  considerable  regard 
for  his  o^vn  personal  safety,  accorded  well 
with  his  affected  air  of  mystery  and  reserve. 
In  the  National  Assembly  he  had  made  a 
great  impression,  by  his  pamphlet  explain- 
ing the  nature  of  the  Third  Estate  ;  and  he 
had  the  principal  part  ia  procuring  the  un- 
ion of  the  three  separate  Estates  into  the 
National  Assembly.  A  flaming  patriot  in 
1792-3,  he  voted  for  the  death  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Louis ;  and,  as  was  reported,  with 
brutal  levity,  using  the  celebrated  expres- 
sion, "  Mori  sans  phrase."  He  was  no  less 
distinguished  for  bringing  forward  the  im- 
portant measure  for  dividing  France  into  de- 
partments, and  thus  blending  together  and 
confounding  all  the  ancient  distinctions  of 
I  provinces.  After  thjs  period  he  became 
pjissive,  and  w,is  little  heard  of  during  the 
Reign  of  Terror  ;  for  he  followed  the  max- 
im of  Pyilia<roras,  and  worshipped  the  Echo 
(only  found  in  secret  and  solitary  places,) 
when  he  heard  the  tempest  blow  hard. 

After  the  revolution  of  9th  Thermidor, 
Sieyes  came  in  with  the  moderate  party, 
and  had  the  merit  to  propose  the  recall  of 
the  members  who  had  been  forcibly  ex 


t -•/«/.  XXXllL]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


3i;i 


pellcd  by  the  Jacobin  faction  on  the  fall  of 
the  Girondists.  He  was  one  of  the  com- 
iuittee  of  eleven,  to  whom  was  committed 
the  charge  of  forming  the  new  constitution, 
afterwards  called  that  of  the  year  Three. 
This  great  metaphysical  philosopher  and 
politician  showed  little  desire  to  share  with 
any  colleagues  the  toil  and  honour  of  a  task 
to  which  he  esteemed  himself  exclusively 
competent ;  and  he  produced,  accordingly, 
a  model  entirely  of  his  own  composition, 
very  ingenious,  and  evincing  a  wonderfully 
intimate  acquaintance  with  political  doc- 
trines, together  with  a  multitude  of  nice 
balances,  capacities,  and  disqualifications, 
EC  constituted  as  to  be  checks  on  each  oth- 
er. .\s  strongly  characteristic  of  the  genius 
of  the  man,jve  shall  here  give  an  account 
of  his  great  work. 

His  plan  provided  that  the  constitution, 
with  its  powers  of  judicature  and  of  admin- 
istration, should  emanate  from  the  people; 
but  lest,  like  that  unnatural  parent  tne  sow, 
the  people  should  devour  their  own  nine 
farrow,  tlie  functionaries  thus  invested  with 
power  were  to  be  placed,  when  created, 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  parents  who  had 
given  them  birth.  The  mode  in  which  it 
was  proposed  to  effect  this,  was  both  singu- 
lar and  ingenious.  The  office-bearers  were 
thus  to  be  selected  out  of  three  orders  of 
the  sUnte.  forming  a  triple  hierarchy.  L 
The  citizens  of  each  commune  were  to 
name  one-tenth  of  their  number,  to  be  call- 
ed the  Communal  Notables.  From  these 
were  to  be  selected  the  magistrates  of  the 
Commune,  and  the  justices  of  peace.  2.  The 
Communal  Notables  were  again  to  choose 
a  tenth  part  of  their  number,  who  were  call- 
ed the  Departmental  Notables.  The  pre- 
fects, judges,  and  provincial  administra- 
tors, were  selected  from  this  second  body. 
3.  The  Departmental  Notables,  in  like  man- 
ner, were  to  elect  a  tenth  of  their  number, 
computed  to  amount  to  about  six  thousand 
persons  ;  and  form  this  highest  class  of  cit- 
izens were  to  be  filled  the  most  dignified 
and  important  situations  in  the  state, — the 
ministers  and  members  of  government,  the 
legislature,  the  senate  or  grand  jury,  the 
princfpaj  judges,  ambassadors,  and  the  like. 
By  this  system  it  will  be  perceived,  that 
instead  of  equality,  three  ranks  of  privileged 
citizens  were  to  be  established,  from  whose 
ranks  alone  certain  offices  could  be  filled. 
But  this  species  of  nobility,  or,  as  it  was 
called.  Notability,  was  dependant  not  on 
birth,  but  on  the  choice  of  the  people,  from 
whom,  though  more  or  less  directly,  all 
officers  without  exception  received  their 
commissions.  The  elections  were  to  take 
place  every  five  years. 

To  represent  the  national  dignity,  power, 
and  glory,  there  was  to  be  an  officer  called 
the  Grand  Elector,  who  was  to  have  guards, 
a  revenue,  and  all  the  external  appendages 
of  royalty  ;  all  acts  of  government,  laws, 
and  judicial  proceedings,  were  to  run  in  his 
name.  This  species  of  Roi  faineant  was  to 
possess  no  part  of  the  royal  authority,  ex- 
cept the  right  of  naming  two  Consuls,  one 
for  peace,  and  the  other  for  war  ;  and  the 
farther  right  of  selecting,  from  lists  of  can- 
VOL.  I.  0 


didates  to  be  supplied  by  the  three  ranks  of 
the  hierarchy,  tne  individuals  who  were  to 
fill  official  situations  as  they  should  become 
vacant.  But  having  exercised  this  privi- 
lege, the  Grand  Elector,  or  Proclaimer  Gen- 
eral, was  functus  officio,  and  had  no  active 
duties  to  perform,  or  power  to  exercise. 
The  two  Consuls,  altogether  uncontrolled 
by  him  or  each  other,  were  to  act  each  in 
their  own  exclusive  department  of  peace  or 
war ;  and  the  other  functionaries  were  alike 
independent  of  the  Grand  Proclaimer,  or 
Elector,  so  soon  as  he  had  appointed  them. 
He  was  to  resemble  no  sovereign  ever 
heard  of  but  the  Queen  Bee,  who  has  noth- 
ing to  do  but  to  repose  in  idleness  and  lux- 
ury, and  give  being  to  the  active  insects  by 
whose  industry  the  business  of  the  hive  is 
carried  on. 

The  government  being  thus  provided  for, 
the  Abbe  Sieyes's  system  of  legislature  was 
something  like  that  of  France  in  the  time 
of  the  Parliament.  There  was  to  be  a  Legis- 
lative Body  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  depu- 
ties ;  but  they  were  to  form  rather  a  tribunal 
of  judges,  than  a  popular  and  deliberative 
assembly.  Two  other  bodies,  a  Council  of 
State  on  the  part  of  the  government,  and  a 
Tribunate  of  one  hundred  deputies,  on  the 
part  of  the  people,  were  to  propose  and  dis- 
cuss measures  in  presence  of  this  Legisla 
tive  Council,  who  then  proceeded  to  adopt 
or  reject  them  upon  scrutiny  and  by  vote, 
but  without  any  oral  delivery  of  opinions. 
The  Tribunate  was  invested  with  the  riglit 
of  guarding  the  freedom  of  the  subject,  and 
denouncing  to  the  Convocative  Senate  such 
misconduct  of  office-bearers,  or  ill-chosen 
measures,  or  ill-advised  laws,  as  should  ap- 
pear to  them  worthy  of  reprobation. 

But,  above  all.  Abbe  Sieyes  piqued  him- 
self upon  the  device  of  what  he  termed  a 
Conservative  Senate,  which,  possessing  in 
itself  no  power  of  action  or  legislation  of 
any  kind,  was  to  have  in  charge  the  preser- 
vation of  the  constitution.  To  this  senate 
was  given  the  singular  power,  of  calling  in 
to  become  a  member  of  their  own  body, 
and  reducing  of  course  to  their  own  state 
of  incapacity,  any  individual  occupying  an- 
other situation  in  the  constitution,  whose 
talents,  ambition,  or  popularity,  should  ren- 
der him  a  subject  of  jealousy.  Even  the 
Grand  Elector  himself  was  liable  to  this 
fate  of  absorption,  as  it  was  called,  although 
he  held  his  crown  of  Cocaign  in  the  com- 
mon case  for  life.  Any  exertion  on  hi» 
part  of  what  might  seem  to  the  senate  an 
act  of  arbitrary  authority,  entitled  them  to 
adopt  him  a  member  of  their  own  body. 
He  was  thus  removed  from  his  palace, 
guards,  and  income,  and  made  for  ever  in- 
capable of  any  other  office  than  that  of  a 
senator.  This  high  point  of  policy  was  car- 
rying the  system  of  checks  and  balances  as 
far  as  it  could  well  go. 
!  The  first  glance  of  this  curious  mode) 
'.  must  have  convinced  a  practical  politician 
'  that  it  was  greatly  too  complicated  and 
i  technical  to  be  carried  into  effect.  The 
i  utility  of  laws  consists  in  their  being  of  a 
character  which  compels  the  respect  and 
,  obedience  of  those  to  whom  they  relate. 


314 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLLON  BUO.XAr.VRTt:.        [Chap.  XXXHI. 


The  very  delicacy  of  such  an  ingenious  ',  adherent  of  the  Ilour.e  of  Bourbon,  stood, 
scheme  rendered  it  incapable  of  obtaining  nevertheless,  at  the  lu-ad  of  the  Moderes, 
general  regard,  since  it  was  too  refined  to    and   taxed  his  sag;acity  for  means  of  ensur- 


Be  understood  save  by  profound  philoso- 
phers. To  the  rest  of  the  nation  it  must 
have  been  like  a  watch  to  a  savage,  who, 
beiiig  commanded  to  regulate  his  time  oy  , 
it,  will  probably  prefer  to  make  the  ma- 
chine correspond  with  his  inclinations,  by 


their  victory.  The  Moderns  possessed 
a  majority  in  the  Council  of  the  Ancients  ; 
but  the  Society  of  the  Manege,  Republi- 
cans if  not  Jacobins,  had  obtained  at  the 
last  election,  a  great  superiority  of  numbers 
in  the    Council  of   Five   Hundred.     They 


putting  backward  and  forward  the  index  at    were   sure  to  be  decided  in  opposition  to 


pleasure.  A  man  of  ordinary  talent  and 
honest  disposition  might  have  been  dis- 
qualified for  public  life  by  chis  doctrine 
of  absorption,  just  as  a  man  ignorant  of 
swimming  would  perish  if  flung  into  a  lake. 
But  a  stout  swimmer  would  easily  gain  the 
shore,  and  an  individual  like  Buonaparte 
would  set  at  defiance  the  new  species  of 
ostracism,  and  decline  to  be  neutralized  by 
the  absorption  of  the  senile,  .\bove  all, 
the  plan  of  the  Abbe  destroyed  the  true 
principle  of  national  representation,  by  in- 
troducing a  metaph3'sicai  election  of  mem- 
bers of  legislation,  instead  of  one  immedi- 
ately derived  from  the  direct  vote  of  the 
people  themselves.  In  the  Abbe's  alem- 
bic, the  real  and  invaluable  principle  of 
popular  representation  wa?  subtilized  into 
smoke. 

For  these,  or  other  reasons,  the  commis- 
sioners of  the  year  Three  did  not  approve 


any  change  of  the  constitution  of  the  year 
Three  ;  and  such  being  the  case,  those  'who 
plotted  the  new  revolution,  could  not  at- 
tempt it  without  some  external  support.  To 
call  upon  the  people  was  no  longer  the  or- 
der of  the  day.  Indeed,  it  may  be  suppos- 
ed that  the  ancient  revolutionary  columns 
would  rather  have  risen  against  Sieyes,  and 
in  behalf  of  the  Society  of  the  Manege. 
The  proposers  of  a  new  change  had  access, 
however,  to  the  army,  and  to  that  they  de- 
termined to  appeal"  The  assistance  of 
some  military  chief  of  the  first  reputation 
was  necessary.  Sieyes  cast  his  eyes  upon 
Joubert,  an  officer  of  high  reputation,  and 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  amongst 
Buonaparte's  generals.  He  was  named  by 
the  Directors  to  the  command  of  the  De- 
partment of  Paris,  but  shortly  after  was 
sent  to  Italy,  with  hopes  that,  acquiring  a 
new  fund  of  glory  by  checking  the  progress 


of  the  plan  proposed  by  Sieyes;  and,  equal-  of  Suwarrow,  he  might  be  yet  more  fitted 
ly  dissatisfied  with  the  constitution  which  to  fill  the  public  eye,  and  influence  the 
liiey   adopted,   he   withdrew  himself  from    general  mind,   in   the    crisis   when  Sieyea 


their  deliberations,  and  accepted  the  situa- 
tion of  Ambassador  to  Prussia,  where  he 
discharged  with  great  ability  the  task  of  a 
diplomatist. 

In  1799,  Sieyes  returned  from  Berlin  to 
Paris,  full  of  hope  to  establish  his  own  fa- 
vourite model  on  the  ruins  of  the  Directori- 
al Constitution,  and  as  a  preliminary,  obtain- 
ed, as  we  have  said,  Reubel's  seat  in  the 
Directory.  Merlin  and  Lepaux,  menaced 
with  impeachments,  were  iflduced  to  send 
in  their  resignation.  Treilhard  had  been 
previously  displaced,  on  pretest  of  an  infor- 
mality iti  the  choice.  Instead  of  them 
were' introduced  into  the  Directory  Roger 
Duces,  a  Modere,  or  rather  a  Royalist,  with 
Oohier  and  Moulins,  men  of  talents  too  or 


looked  for  his  assistance.  Joubert  lost  his 
life,  however,  at  the  great  battle  of  Novi, 
fought  betwi.Kt  him  and  Suwarrow;  and  so 
opportunely  did  his  dehth  make  room  fo;- 
the  pretensions  of  Buonaparte,  that  it  has 
been  rumoured,  certainly  without  the  least 
probability,  that  he  did  not  fall  by  the  fire 
of  the  Austrians,  but  by  that  of  assassins 
hired  by  the  family  of  Napoleon,  to  tako 
out  of  the  way  a  powerful  competitor  of 
their  brother.'  This  would  have  been  a 
gratuitous  crime,  since  they  could  neither 
reckon  with  certainty  on  the  arrival  of 
Buonaparte,  nor  upon  his  being  adopted  by 
Sieyes  in  place  of  Joubert. 

Meanwhile  the  family  of  Napoleon  omit- 
ted no  mode  of  keeping  his  merits  in  pub 


dinary  to  throw  any  opposition  in  the  path  lie  remembrance.  Reports  from  time  to 
of  Sieves.  Barras,  by  his  expenses  and  his  time  appeared  in  the  papers  to  this  purpose, 
luxurious  mode  of  life,  his  connexion  with  j  as  when,  to  give  him  consequence  doubt- 
stock-jobbers,  and  encouragement  of  pecu-  {  less,  they  pretended  that  the  tower  guns  of 
lation,  was  too  much  in  danger  of  impeach-  |  London  were  fired,  and  public  rejoicings 
iiient,  to  permit  him  to  play  a  manly  part,  made,  upon  a  report  that  Napoleon  had 
He  truckled  to  circumstances,  and  allied  j  been  assassinated.  Madame  Buonaparte, 
Liiiiself  with,  or  rather  subjected  himself  i  in  tlie  meanwhile,  lived  at  great  expense. 
■to  Sieyes,  who  saw  the  time  approaching  j  and  with  much  elegance,  collecting  around 
when  tlie  constitution  of  the  year  Three  '  her  whosoever  was  remarkable  for  talent 
must  fall,  and  hoped  to  establish  his  own  and  accomplishment,  and  many  of  the  wo- 
rejrcted  model  in  its  stead.     But  the  revo-  1  men  of  Paris  who  were  best  accustomed  to 


iwtion  which  he  meditated  could  only  be 
f.nouted  by  force. 

T!ie  change  in  the  Directory  had  destroy- 
(•  :  tiio  government  by  bascule,  or  balance, 
:.'!■!   rhat  intermediate  and   trimming  influ- 

:o  brin<r  removed,  the  two  parties  of  the 


the  management  of  Political  intrigue.  Lu- 
cien  Buonaparte  distinguished  himself  as  an 
orator  in  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred,  and 
although  lie  had  hitherto  affected  republi- 
can zeal,  he  now  opposed,  with  much  abili- 
tv,  the  reviving  influence  of  the  democrats. 


Moderes  and  the  Republicans  stood  full  op-  Joseph  Buonaparte,  also,  a  man  of  talent. 
ji')se«  to  each  other,  and  ready  to  try  tlieir  and  of  an  excellent  character,  though  much 
«;trengt!i  in  a  severe  struggle.  Sieyes,  |  aspersed  afterwards  in  consequence  of  the 
tijj'igh  no  Rojajist^  or  at  least  certain! v  "o    part  in  Spain  assigned  him  by  his  brother, 


a.iip.  XXXHI.]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


315 


lived  liospitably,  saw  much  company,  and 
uaiiitaiiied  an  ascendence  in  Parisian  soci- 
ety. We  cannot  doubt  that  these  near  rel- 
atives of  Buonaparte  found  means  of  com- 
municating to  him  the  state  of  affairs  in 
Paris,  and  the  opening  which  it  afforded 
for  the  exercise  of  his  distinguished  talents. 
The  communication  betwist  Toulon  and 
Alexandria  was,  indeed,  interrupted,  but 
not  aJtogether  broken  off,  and  we  have  no 
doubt  that  the  struggle  of  parties  in  the  in- 
terior, as  well  as  the  great  disasters  on 
the  frontier,  had  their  full  influence  in  de- 
termining Buonaparte  to  his  sudden  return. 
Miot,  though  in  no  very  positive  strain,  has 
named  a  Greek  called  Bambuki,  as  the 
bearer  of  a  letter  from  Joseph  to  his  broth- 
er, conveying  this  important  intelligence. 
The  private  Memoirs  of  Fouche  pretend 
that  that  minister  purchased  the  secret  of 
Napoleon's  return  being  expected,  from  Jo- 
sephine herself,  for  the  sum  of  a  thousand 
louis,  and  that  the  landing  at  Frejus  was  no 
surprise  to  him.  Both  these  pieces  of  pri- 
\-ate  history  may  be  safely  doubted ;  but  it 
would  be  difficult  to  convince  us  that  Buon- 
aparte took  the  step  of  quitting  Egypt  on 
the  vague  intelligence  afforded  by  the  jour- 
nals, and  without  confidential  communica- 
tion with  his  own  family. 

To  return  to  the  state  of  the  French 
government.  The  death  of  Joubert  not 
only  disconcerted  the  schemes  of  Sieves, 
but  exposed  him  and  his  party  to  retalia- 
tion. Bernadotte  was  minister  of  war,  and 
he,  with  Jourdan  and  Augereau,  were  all 
warm  in  the  cause  of  Republicanism.  Any 
of  these  distinguished  generals  was  capa- 
ble of  leading  the  military  force  to  compel 
Kuch  an  alteration  in  the  constitution  as 
plight  suit  the  purpose  of  their  party,  and 
thus  reversing  the  project  of  Sieyes,  who, 
without  Joubert,  was  like  the  head  without 
the  arm  that  should  execute.  Already, 
Jourdan  had  made  in  the  Council  of  Five 
Hundred  a  speech  on  the  dangers  of  the 
country,  which,  in  point  of  vehemence, 
might  have  been  pronounced  in  the  ancient 
hall  of  the  Jacobins.  He  in  plain  terms 
threatened  the  Moderea  with  such  a  gener- 
al insurrection  as  had  taken  place  in  the 
year  1792,  and  proposed  to  declare  the 
country  in  danger.     He  was  answered  by  | 


Lucien  Buonaparte,  Chenier,  and  Boulay, 
who  had  great  difficulty  to  parry  the  impet- 
uosity with  which  the  motion  was  urged 
forward.  Though  they  succeeded  in  elud- 
ing the  danger,  it  was  still  far  from  being 
over,  and  the  democrats  would  probably 
have  dared  some  desperate  movement,  if 
any  additional  reverse  had  been  sustained 
on  the  frontier. 

But  as  if  the  calamities  of  France,  whicJi 
of  late  had  followed  each  other  in  quick  suc- 
cession, had  attained  their  height  of  tide, 
the  affairs  of  that  country  began  all  of  a 
sudden  to  assume  a  more  favourable  aspect. 
The  success  of  General  Brune  in  Holland 
against  the  Anglo-Russian  army,  had  oblig- 
ed the  invaders  of  Holland  to  retreat,  and 
enter  into  a  convention  for  evacuation  of 
the  country  on  which  they  had  made  their 
descent.  A  dispute,  or  misunderstanding, 
having  occurred  between  the  Emperors  of 
Austria  and  Russia,  the  Archduke  Charles, 
in  order,  it  was  alleged,  to  repel  an  incur- 
sion of  the  French  into  the  countries  on 
the  Maine,  withdrew  a  great  part  of  his  ar- 
my from  the  line  of  the  Limmat,  which 
was  taken  up  by  the  Russiajis  under  Korsa- 
kow.  Massena  took  the  advantage  of  this 
imprudent  step,  crossed  the  Limmat,  sur- 
prised the  Russians,  and  defeated  Korsa- 
kow,  whilst  the  formidable  Suwarrow,  who 
had  already  advanced  to  communicate  wiili 
that  general,  found  his  right  flank  uncover- 
ed by  his  defeat,  and  had  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty in  executing  a  retrograde  movement 
before  General  Lecourbe. 

The  news  of  these  successes  induced  th«- 
Republicans  to  defer  their  attack  upon  tho 
moderate  party  ;  and  on  so  nice  a  point  do 
the  greatest  events  hang,  that  had  a  longer 
period  intervened  between  these  victorie." 
and  the  arrival  of  Buonaparte,  it  is  most 
probable  that  he  would  have  found  the  sit- 
uation of  military  chief  of  the  approaching 
revolution,  which  became  vacant  on  the 
death  of  Joubert,  filled  up  by  some  one  of 
those  generals,  of  whom  success  had  ex- 
tended the  fame.  But  he  landed  at  the 
happy  crisis,  when  the  presence  of  a  chief 
of  first-rate  talents  was  indispensable,  and 
when  no  favourite  name  had  yet  been  found, 
to  fill  the  public  voice  with  half  such  loud 
acclaim  as  his  own. 


:;!G 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        IChap.  XXXIV 


CHAP.  ZXXIV. 

(jeneral  rejoicing  on  the  return  o/ Buonaparte — He,  meanwhile,  secludes  himself  in 
Retirement  and  Literature. — Advances  made  to  him  on  all  sides. — Napoleon  coalesces 
with  the  Abbe  Sieyes. — Revolution  of  the  ISth  Brumaire — Particulars  of  that  evejit. 
— Clashing  Views  of  the  Councils  of  Ancients,  and  the  Five  Hundred. — Barras  and 
his  Colleagues  resign,  leaving  the  whole  Power  in  the  hands  of  Napoleon. — Proceed- 
ings of  the  Councils  on  the  ISth — and  I9th. — Sittings  removed  from  Paris  to  St. 
Cloud — Buonaparte  visits  both  on  the  latter  Day. —  Violent  Commotion  in  the  Coun- 
cil of  Five  Hundred — Napoleon  received  with  great  hostility,  menaced  and  assaulted, 
and  finally  extricated  by  his  Grenadiers,  breathless  and  exhausted. — Lucien  Buoria- 
parte,  the  President,  retires  from  the  Hall  with  a  similar  Escort — Declares  the  Coun- 
cil of  Five  Hundred  dissolved — They  are  then  dispersed  by  Military  Force. —  Various 
Rumours  stated  and  discussed. — Both  Councils  adjourn  to  the  I9th  February  1800,  af- 
ter appointing  a  Provisional  Consular  Government,  of  Buonaparte,  Sieyes,  and  Ducos. 


Buonaparte  had  caused  himself  to  be 
preceded  by  an  account  of  his  campaigns 
in  Africa  and  Asia,  in  which  the  splendid 
victory  over  the  Turks  at  Aboukir  enabled 
him  to  gloss  over  his  bad  success  in  Syria, 
the  total  loss  of  his  fleet,  and  the  dang3r 
of  iVIalta,  which  was  closely  besieged  by  the 
English.  Still,  however,  these  despatches 
could  never  have  led  any  one  to  expect  the 
sudden  return  of  a  general  engaged  on  a 
foreign  service  of  the  utmost  importance, 
who,  without  having  a  better  reason  to  al- 
lege, than  his  own  opinion  that  his  talents 
were  more  essential  to  his  country  in  France 
than  in  Egypt,  left  his  army  to  its  fate,  and 
came,  without  either  order  or  permission 
from  his  government,  to  volunteer  his  ser- 
vices where  they  were  not  expected,  or 
perhaps  wished  for.  Another  in  the  same 
circurastanc«s,  or  perhaps  the  same  gene- 
ral at  another  period  of  the  Revolution, 
would  have  been  received  by  the  public 
with  alienated  favour,  and  by  the  govern- 
ment with  severe  inquiry,  if  not  with  denun- 
ciation. 

On  the  contrary,  such  was  the  general 
reliance  on  the  talents  of  Buonaparte,  that, 
delighted  to  see  him  arrive,  no  one  thought 
of  asking  wherefore,  or  by  whose  authority 
he  had  returned.  He  was  received  like  a 
victorious  monarch  re-entering  his  domin- 
ions at  his  own  time  ana  pleasure.  Bells 
were  everywhere  rung,  illuminations  made, 
a  delirium  of  joy  agitated  tha  public  mind, 
.ind  the  messenger  who  carried  the  news  of 
his  disembarkation  to  Paris,  was  received 
as  if  he  had  brought  news  of  a  battle  gained. 

The  hall  of  the  Council  of  Five  Hun- 
dred re-echoed  with  cries  of  victory, 
while  the  orator,  announcing  the  victories 
of  Brune  over  the  English,  and  Massena 
over  the  Russians,  dwelt  upon  the  simple 
fact  of  Buonaparte's  return,  as  of  interest 
equal  to  all  these  successes.  He  was  heard 
with  shouts  of  "  Long  live  the  Republic  !"' 
which,  as  the  event  proved,  w^as  an  excla- 
mation but  very  indifferently  adapted  to  the 
occasion. 

Josephine,  and  Joseph  Buonaparte,  ap- 
prised by  the  government  of  the  arrival  of 
JVapoleon,  hastened  to  meet  him  on  the 
road ;  and  his  progress  towards  Paris  was 
everywhere  attended  by  the  same  general 
acclamations  which  had  received  him  at 
landing. 


The  members  of  government,  it  must  be 
supposed,  felt  alarm  and  anxiety,  which 
they  endeavoured  to  conceal,  under  the 
appearance  of  sharing  in  the  general  joy. 
The  arrival  of  a  person  so  influential  by  his 
fame,  so  decided  in  his  character,  engaged 
with  no  faction,  and  pledged  to  no  political 
system,  was  likely  to  give  victory  to  one  or 
the  other  party  who  were  contending  for 
superiority,  as  he  should  himself  determine. 
The  eyes  of  all  men  were  upon  Napoleon, 
while  his  reserved  and  retired  mode  of  life 
prevented  any  accurate  anticipation  being 
formed  of  the  part  which  he  was  likely  to 
take  in  the  approaching  convulsions  of  the 
state.  While  both  parties  might  hope  for 
his  participation  and  succour,  neither  ven- 
tured to  call  into  question  his  purpose,  or 
the  authority  by  which  he  had  left  his  army 
in  Egypt,  and  appeared  thus  unexpectedly 
in  the  capital.  On  the  contrary,  they  court- 
ed him  on  either  hand  as  the  arbiter,  whose 
decision  was  likely  to  have  most  influence 
on  the  state  of  the  nation. 

Napoleon,  meanwhile,  seemed  to  give  his 
exclusive  attention  to  literature,  and,  hav- 
ing exchanged  the  usual  visits  of  form  with 
the  ministers  of  the  Republic,  he  was  more 
frequently  to  be  found  at  the  Institute,  or 
discussing  with  the  traveller  Volney,  and 
other  men  of  letters,  the  information  which 
he  had  acquired  in  Egypt  on  science  and 
antiquities,  than  in  the  haunts  of  politi- 
cians, or  the  society  of  the  leaders  of  either 
party  in  the  state.  Neither  was  he  to  be 
seen  at  the  places  of  popular  resort — he 
went  into  no  general  company,  seldom  at- 
tended the  theatres,  and,  when  he  did,  took 
his  seat  in  a  private  box. 

A  public  entertainment  was  given  in 
honour  of  the  General  in  the  church  of  St. 
Sulpice,  which  was  attended  by  both  the 
Legislative  Bodies.  Moreau  shared  the 
same  honour,  perhaps  on  that  account  not 
the  more  agreeable  to  Buonaparte.  Jour- 
dan  and  Augereau  did  not  appear — a  cloud 
seemed  to  hang  over  the  festival — Napole- 
on only  presented  himself  for  a  very  short 
time,  and  the  whole  was  over  in  the  course 
of  an  hour. 

To  the  military,  his  conduct  seemed 
equally  reserved — he  held  no  levees,  and 
attended  no  reviews.  While  all  ranks  con- 
tended in  offering  their  tributes  of  applause, 
he  turned  in  silence  from  receiving  them. 


Okp.  XXXI  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


317 


In  all  this  there  was  deep  policy.  No 
one  knew  better  how  much   popular  ap- 

Elause  depends  on  the  gloss  of  novelty,  and 
ow  great  is  the  difference  in  public  esti- 
mation; betwixt  him  who  appears  to  hunt 
and  court  acclamations,  and  the  wiser  and 
more  dignified  favourite  of  the  multitude, 
whose  popularity  follows  after  him  and 
seeks  him  out,  instead  of  being  the  object 
of  his  pursuit  and  ambition.  Yet  under  this 
still  and  apparently  indifferent  demeanour. 
Napoleon  was  in  secret  employed  in  col- 
lecting all  the  information  necessary  con- 
cerning the  purposes  and  the  powers  of  the 
various  parties  in  the  state  ;  and  as  each 
was  eager  to  obtain  his  countenance,  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  full  explana- 
tion on  these  points. 

The  violent  Republicans,  who  possessed 
the  majority  in  the  Council  of  Five  Hun- 
dred, made  advances  to  him ;  and  the  Gen- 
erals Jourdan,  Augereau,  and  Bernadotte, 
offered  to  place  him  at  the  head  of  tliat 
party,  provided  he  would  maintain  the  dem- 
ocratical  constitution  of  the  year  Three. 
In  uniting  with  this  active  and  violent  par- 
ty, Buonaparte  saw  every  chance  of  instant 
and  immediate  success;  but,  by  succeeding 
in  the  outset,  he  would  probably  have  mar- 
red the  farther  projects  of  ambition  which 
he  already  nourished.  Military  leaders, 
such  as  Jourdan  and  Bernadotte,  at  the  head 
of  a  party  so  furious  as  the  Republicans, 
could  not  have  been  thrown  aside  without 
both  danger  and  difficulty  ;  and  it  being  un- 
questionably the  ultimate  intention  of  Buon. 
aparte  to  usurp  the  supreme  power,  it  was 
most  natural  for  him  to  seek  adherents 
among  those,  who,  though  differing  con- 
cerning the  kind  of  government  which 
should  be  finally  established,  concurred  in 
desiring  a  change  from  the  republican 
model. 

Barras,  too,  endeavoured  to  sound  the 
purposes  of  the  General  of  the  Army  of 
Egypt.  He  hinted  to  him  a  plan  of  placing 
at  the  head  of  the  Directory  Hedouville, 
a  man  of  ordinary  talent,  then  general  of 
what  was  still  termed  the  Army  of  Eng- 
land, of  retiring  himself  from  power,  and 
of  conferrmg  on  Napoleon  the  general  com- 
mand of  the  Republican  forces  on  the  fron- 
tiers,  which  he  vainly  supposed  preferment 
cufficientto  gratify  his  ambition.  Buonaparte 
would  not  listen  to  a  hint  which  went  to  re- 
move him  from  the  capital,  and  the  supreme 
administration  of  affairs — he  knew  also  that 
Barras's  character  was  contemptible,  and 
his  resources  diminished — that  his  subse- 
quent conduct  had  cancelled  the  merit 
which  he  had  acquired  by  the  overthrow  of 
Robespierre,  and  that  to' unite  with  him  in 
.iny  degree  would  be  to  adopt,  in  the  pub- 
lic opinion,  the  very  worst  and  most  un- 
popular portion  of  the  Directorial  Govern- 
ment. He  rejected  the  alliance  of  Barras, 
therefore,  even  when,  abandoning  his  own 
plan,  the  Director  offered  to  concur  in  any 
which  Napoleon  might  dictate. 

A  union  with  Sieyes,  and  the  party  whom 
he  influenced,  promised  greater  advantages. 
Under  this  speculative  politician  were  unit- 
ed for  the  time  all  who,  though  differing  in 


other  points,  joined  in  desiring  a  final 
change  from  a  revolutionary  to  a  moderate 
and  efficient  government,  bearing  something 
of  a  monarchical  character.  Their  number 
rendered  this  party  powerful.  In  the  Di- 
rectory it  was  espoused  by  Sieyes  and  Du- 
cos  ;  it  possessed  a  large  majority  in  the 
Council  of  Ancients,  and  a  respectable  mi- 
nority in  that  of  the  Five  Hundred.  The 
greater  part  of  the  middling  classes  through- 
out France,  embraced  with  more  or  less 
zeal  the  principles  of  moderation ;  and 
agreed,  that  an  executive  government  of 
some  strength,  was  necessary  to  save  them 
from  the  evils  of  combined  revolutionary 
movements.  Though  the  power  of  the  mod- 
erates was  great,  yet  their  subsequent  ob- 
jects, in  case  of  success,  were  various.  Thus 
Buonaparte  saw  himself  encouraged  to  hope 
for  victory  over  the  existing  government 
and  the  Republicans,  by  the  united  strength 
of  the  Moderates  of  every  class,  whilst  their 
difference  in  opinion  concerning  the  ulti- 
mate measures  to  be  adopted,  afforded  him 
the  best  opportunity  of  advancing,  during 
the  competition,  his  own  pretensions  to  the 
larger  sliare  of  the  spoil. 

Napoleon  communicated  accordingly 
with  Sieyes,  upon  the  understanding  that 
he  was  to  be  raised  to  the  principal  admin- 
istration of  affairs  ;  that  the  constitution  of 
the  year  Three,  which  he  himself  had  once 
pronounced  •'  the  masterpiece  of  legisla- 
tion, which  had  abolished  the  errors  of 
eighteen  centuries,"  was  entirely  to  be 
done  away  ;  and  that  a  constitution  was  to 
be  adopted  iu  its  stead,  of  which  he  knew 
nothing  more,  than  that  it  was  ready  drawn 
up,  and  lay  in  the  portfolio  of  Sieyes.  Xc 
doubt,  the  General  mentally  reserved  the 
right  of  altering  and  adjusting  it  as  should 
best  suit  his  own  views, — a  right  which  he 
failed  not  to  exercise  to  a  serious  extent. 
When  these  great  preliminaries  had  been 
adjusted,  it  was  agreed  that  it  should  be  ex- 
ecuted between  the  15th  and  20th  Bru- 
maire. 

In  the  interim,  several  men  of  influence 
of  both  councils  were  admitted  into  the  se- 
cret. Talleyrand,  who  had  been  deprived 
of  office  by  the  influence  of  the  Republi- 
cans, brought  his  talents  to  the  aid  of  Buon- 
aparte. Fouche,  according  to  Napoleon, 
was  not  consulted — the  Memoirs  which 
bear  his  name  aver  the  contrary — it  ia  cer- 
tain, that  in  his  important  capacity  of  min- 
ister of  police,  he  acted  in  Buonaparte's 
favour  during  the  Revolution.  Some  lead- 
ing members  of  both  legislative  bodies  were 
cautiously  intrusted  with  what  was  going 
forward,  and  others  were  generally  advised 
to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  for  a  great 
movement. 

A  sufficient  military  force  was  next  to  be 
provided  ;  and  this  was  not  difficult,  for  the 
reputation  of  Buonaparte  ensured  the  con- 
spirators unlitnited  influence  among  the  sol- 
diery. Three  regiments  of  dragoons  were 
enthusiastically  petitioning  the  honour  of  be- 
ing reviewed  by  Napoleon.  The  adherence 
of  these  troops  might  be  counted  upon 
The  officers  of  the  garrison  of  Paris  were 
desirous  to  pay  their  respects  to  him  3  so 


318 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XX XIV 


were  the  forty  adjutants  of  the  National 
Guard,  whom  he  himself  had  appointed 
when  general  of  the  troops  in  the  interior. 
Many  other  officers,  as  well  reduced  as 
nolding  commissions,  desired  to  see  the 
celebrated  General,  that  they  might  ex- 
press their  devotion  to  his  person,  and  ad- 
nerence  to  his  fortunes.  All  these  intro- 
ductions had  been  artfully  postponed. 

Two  men  of  more  renowned  name,  Mo- 
reau  and  Macdonald,  had  made  tenders  of 
service  to  Buonaparte.  These  both  favour- 
ed the  moderate  party,  and  had  no  suspi- 
cion of  the  ultimate  design  of  Napoleon,  or 
the  final  result  of  his  undertaking. 

A  final  resolution  on  15th  Brumaire  de- 
termined the  18th  (9th  November)  for  the 
great  attempt — an  interval  was  necessary, 
but  the  risk  of  discovery  and  anticipation 
made  it  desirable  that  it  should  be  as  short 
as  possible.  The  secret  was  well  kept ;  yet 
being  unavoidably  intrusted  to  many  per- 
sons, some  floating  and  vague  rumours  did 
get  abroad,  and  gave  an  alarm  to  the  parties 
concerned. 

Meanwhile,  all  the  generals  and  officers 
whom  we  have  named,  were  invited  to  re- 
pair to  Napoleon's  house  at  six  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  18th  Brumaire,  and  the 
three  regiments  of  cavalry  already  mention- 
ed were  appointed  to  be  ready  and  mounted 
in  the  Champs  Elysees,  to  receive  the 
honour  of  being  reviewed  by  Buonaparte, 
according  to  their  petition.  As  an  excuse 
for  assigning  so  unusual  an  hour  of  rendez- 
vous, it  was  said  that  the  General  was  oblig- 
ed to  set  out  upon  a  journey.  Many  offi- 
cers, however,  understood  or  guessed  what 
was  to  be  done,  and  came  armed  with  pis- 
tols as  well  as  with  swords.  Some  were 
without  such  information  or  presentiment. 
Le  Febvre,  the  commandant  of  the  guard 
of  the  Representative  Bodies,  supposed  to 
be  devoted  to  the  Directory,  had  only  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  attend  this  military 
assembly  on  the  preceding  midnight.  Ber- 
nadotte,  unacquainted  with  the  project,  and 
attached  to  the  Republican  faction,  was, 
however,  brought  to  Buonaparte's  house  by 
his  brother  Joseph. 

The  surprise  of  some,  and  the  anxious 
curiosity  of  all,  may  be  supposed,  when 
they  found  a  military  levee  so  numerous 
and  so  brilliant  assembled  at  a  house  inca- 
pable of  containi-ng  half  of  them.  Buona- 
parte was  obliged  to  receive  them  in  the 
open  air.  Leaving  them  thus  assembled, 
and  waiting  their  cue  to  enter  on  the  stage, 
I  let  us  trace  the  political  manoeuvres  from 
'  which  the  military  were  to  take  the  signal 
for  action. 

Early  as  Buonaparte's  levee  had  taken 
place,  the  Council  of  Ancients,  secretly  and 
nastily  assembled,  had  met  still  earlier. 
The  ears  of  all  were  filled  by  a  report,  gen- 
erally circulated,  that  the  Republican  party 
had  formed  a  daring  plan  for  giving  a  new 
popular  impulse  to  the  government.  It  was 
eaid,  that  the  resolution  was  taken  at  the 
Hotel  de  Salm,  amongst  the  party  who  still 
adopted  the  principles  of  the  old  .Jacobins, 
■to  connect  the  two  Representative  Bodies 
into  one  National  Assembly,  and  invest  the 


powers  of  government  in  a  Committee  of 
Public  Safety,  after  the  model  of  what  was 
called  the  Reign  of  Terror.  Circulated 
hastily,  and  witli  such  addition  to  the  tale 
as  rumours  speedily  acquire,  the  mind  of 
the  Council  of  Ancients  was  agitated  with, 
much  fear  and  anxiety.  Comudet,  Lebrun, 
and  Fargues,  made  glowing  speeches  to  the 
Assembly,  in  which  the  terror  that  their 
language  inspired  was  rendered  greater  by 
the  mysterious  and  indefinite  manner  in 
which  they  expressed  themselves.  They 
spoke  of  personal  danger — of  being  over- 
awed in  their  deliberations — of  the  fall  of 
liberty,  and  of  the  approaching  destruction 
of  the  Republic.  "  You  have  but  an  instant 
to  save  France,"  said  Comudet ;  "  permit  it 
to  pass  away,  and  the  country  will  be  a  mere 
carcase,  disputed  by  the  vultures,  whose 
prey  it  must  become."  Though  the  charge 
of  conspiracy  was  not  distinctly  defined, 
tlie  measures  recommended  to  defeat  it 
were  sufficiently  decisive. 

By  the  102d,  103d,  and  104th  articles  of 
the  Constitution,  it  was  provided  that  the 
Council  of  Ancients  might,  if  they  saw  it 
expedient,  alter  the  place  where  the  Legis- 
lative Bodies  met,  and  convoke  them  else- 
where ;  a  provision  designed  doubtless  to 
prevent  the  exercise  of  that  compulsion, 
which  the  Parisians  had  at  one  time  assum- 
ed over  the  National  Assembly  and  Con- 
vention. This  power  the  Council  of  An- 
cients now  exercised.  By  one  edict  the 
sittings  of  the  two  councils  were  removed 
to  St.  Cloud  J  by  another,  the  Council  dele- 
gated to  General  Buonaparte  full  fwwer  to 
see  this  measure  carried  into  effect,  and 
vested  him  for  that  purpose  with  the  mili- 
tary command  of  the  department.  A  state 
messenger  was  sent  to  communicate  to  the 
General  these  important  measures,  and  re- 
quire his  presence  in  the  Council  of  Au- 
cients  ;  and  this  was  the  crisis  which  he 
had  so  anxiously  expected. 

A  few  words  determined  the  numerous 
body  of  officers,  by  whom  the  messenger 
found  him  surrounded,  to  concur  with 
him  without  scruple.  Even  General  Le 
Febvre,  who  commanded  the  guard  of  the 
Legislative  Bodies,  declared  his  adhesion 
to  Buonaparte. 

The  Directory  had  not  even  yet  taken  the 
alarm.  Two  of  them,  indeed,  Sieyes  and 
Duces,  being  in  the  secret  of  the  conspira- 
cy, were  already  at  the  Tuilleries,  to  sec- 
ond the  movement  which  was  preparing. 
It  is  said  that  Barras  had  seen  them  pass  in 
the  morning,  and  as  they  were  both  mount- 
ed, had  been  much  amused  with  the  awk- 
ward horsemanship  of  Sieyes.  He  little 
guessed  on  what  expedition  he  was  bound. 

When  Buonaparte  sallied  forth  on  horse 
back,  and  at  the  head  of  such  a  gallant 
cavalcade  of  officers,  his  first  movement 
was  to  assume  the  command  of  the  three 
regiments  of  cavalry,  already  drawn  up  in 
the  Champs  Elysees,  and  to  lead  them  to 
the  Tuilleries,  where  the  Council  of  An 
cients  expected  him.  He  entered  theii 
Hall,  surrounded  by  his  military  staff,  and 
by  those  other  generals,  whose  name  car 
ried  the  memory    of   so   many   victoriet, 


Chap  XXXIV.]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  RLONAPARTE. 


319 


"  You  are  the  wisdom  of  the  nation,"  he 
B&id  to  the  Council.  "  1  come,  surround- 
ed by  the  generals  of  the  Republic,  to 
Dromise  you  their  support.  I  name  Le 
Febvre  my  lieutenant.  Let  us  not  lose 
time  looking  for  precedents.  Nothing  in 
history  ever  resembled  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century— nothing  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  resenfbled  this  moment. 
Your  wisdom  has  devised  the  necessary 
measure,  our  arms  shall  put  it  into  exe- 
cution." He  announced  to  the  milita- 
ry the  will  of  the  Council,  and  the  com- 
mand with  whicli  they  had  intrusted  him  ; 
and  it  was  received  with  loud  shouts. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  three  Directors, 
Barras,  Cohier,  and  ISIoulins,  who  were 
not  in  the  secret  of  the  morning,  began  too 
late  to  take  the  alarm.  Moulins  proposed 
to  send  a  battalion  to  surround  the  house 
of  Buonaparte,  and  make  prisoner  the  Gen- 
eral, and  whomsoever  else  they  found  there. 
But  they  had  no  longer  the  least  influence 
over  the  soldiery,  and  had  the  mortifica- 
tion to  see  their  own  personal  guard,  when 
summoned  by  an  aid-de-camp  of  Buona- 
parte, march  away  to  join  the  forces  wliich 
ne  commanded,  and  leave  them  defenceless. 

Barras  sent  his  secretary,  Bottot,  to  e.x- 
postulatc  with  Buonaparte.  The  General 
received  him  with  great  haughtiness,  and 
publicly,  before  a  large  group  of  officers 
and  soldiers,  upbraided  him  with  the  re- 
verses of  the  country ;  not  in  the  tone  of 
an  ordinary  citizen,  possessing  but  his  own 
individual  interest  in  the  fate  of  a  great  na- 
tion, but  like  a  prince,  who,  returning  from 
a  distant  expedition,  finds  that  in  his  ab- 
eence  his  deputies  have  abused  their  trust, 
and  misruled  his  dominions.  "  What  have 
you  done,"  he  said,  "for  that  fine  France, 
which  I  left  you  in  such  a  brilliant  condi- 
tion? 1  left  you  peace,  I  have  found  war — 
I  left  you  the  wealth  of  Italy,  I  have  found 
taxation  and  misery.  Where  are  the  hun- 
dred thousand  Frenchmen  whom  I  have 
known  ?— all  of  them  my  companions  in 
glory  ?— They  are  dead."  It  was  plain, 
that  e^en  now,  when  his  enterprise  was 
but  commenced,  Buonaparte  had  already 
assumed  that  tone,  which  seemed  to  ac- 
count every  one  answerable  to  him  for  de- 
ficiences  in  the  public  service,  and  he  him- 
eelf  responsible  to  no  one. 

Barras,  overwhelmed  and  stunned,  and 
afraid,  perhaps,  of  impeachment  for  his  al- 
leged peculations,  belied  the  courage  which 
he  was  once  supposed  to  possess,  and  sub- 
mitted, in  the  most  abject  terms,  to  the  will 
of  the  victor.  He  sent  in  his  resignation. 
in  which  he  states,  "  that  the  weal  of  the 
Republic,  and  his  zeal  for  liberty  alone, 
could  have  ever  induced  him  to  undertake 
the  burden  of  a  public  office  ;  and  that, 
seeing  the  destinies  of  the  Republic  were 
now  in  the  custody  of  her  youthful  and  in- 
vincible General,  he  gladly  resigned  his 
authority.'  He  left  Paris  for  his  country 
seat,  accompanied  \)y  a  guard  of  cavalry, 
which  Buonaparte  ordered  to  attend  him, 
as  much  perhaps  to  watch  his  motions  as 
to  do  him  honour,  though  the  last  was  the 
osteosiblc  reason.    His  colleagues  Gohicr 


and  Moulins,  also  resigned  their  office ; 
Sieyes  and  Ducos  had  already  set  the  exam- 
ple ;  and  tlius,  the  whole  Constitutional 
Excoiitive  Council  was  dissolved,  while  the 
real  power  was  vested  in  Buonaparte's  sin- 
gle person.  Cambaceres,  minister  of  jus- 
tice, Fouche,  minister  of  police,  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  administration,  acknowl- 
edged his  authority  accordingly ;  and  he 
was  thus  placed  in  full  possession  as  well  of 
the  civil  as  of  the  military  power. 

Tiie  Council  of  P'ive  Hundred,  or  rather 
the  Republican  majority  of  that  body, 
sliovved  a  more  stubborn  temper;  and  if, 
instead  of  resigning,  Barras,  Gohier,  and 
Moulins,  had  united  themselves  to  its  lead- 
ers, they  might  perhaps  have  given  trouble 
to  Buonaparte,  successful  as  he  had  hither- 
to been. 

This  hostile  Council  only  met  at  ten  o'- 
clock on  that  memorable  day  when  they  re- 
ceived, to  their  surprise,  the  message,  inti- 
mating that  the  Council  of  Ancients  had 
changed  the  place  of  meeting  from  Paris 
to  St.  Cloud ;  and  thus  removed  their  de- 
b.itcs  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  popu- 
lace, over  whom  the  old  Jacobinical  prin- 
ciples might  have  retained  influence.  The 
laws  as  tJiey  stood  afforded  the  young  Coun- 
cil no  means  of  evading  compliance,  ai:d 
they  accordingly  adjourned  to  meet  the 
next  day  at  St.  Cloud,  with  unabated  reso- 
lution to  maintain  the  democratical  part 
of  the  constitution.  They  separated  amid 
shouts  of  "  Long  live  the  Republic  and  the 
Constitution  !"  which  were  echoed  by  the 
galleries.  The  trir.oteitses,*  and  other  more 
zealous  attendants  on  their  debates,  re- 
solved to  transfer  themselves  to  St.  Cloud 
also,  and  appeared  there  in  considerable 
numbers  on  the  ensuing  day,  when  it  was 
evident  the  enterprise  of  Sieyes  and  of 
Buonaparte  must  be  either  perfected  or 
abandoned. 

The  contending  parties  held  counsel  all 
the  evening,  and  deep  into  the  night,  to 
prepare  for  the  final  contest  on  the  morrow. 
Sieyes  advised  that  forty  leaders  of  the  op- 
position should  be  arrested ;  but  Buona- 
parte esteemed  himself  strong  enough  to 
obtain  a  decisive  victory,  without  resorting 
to  any  such  obnoxious  violence.  They  ad- 
justed their  plan  of  operations  in  both  Coun- 
cils, and  agreed  that  the  government  to  be 
established  should  be  provisionally  intrust- 
ed to  three  Consuls,  Buonaparte,  Sieyes, 
and  Ducos.  Proper  arrangements  were 
made  of  the  armed  force  at  St.  Cloud  ;  and 
the  command  was  confided  to  the  zeal  and 
fidelity  of  Murat.  Buonaparte  used  some 
interest  to  prevent  Bernadotte,  Jourdan,  and 
Augereau,  from  attending  at  St.  Cloud  the 
next  day,  as  he  did  not  expect  them  to  take 
his  part  in  the  approaching  crisis.  The 
last  of  these  seemed  rather  hurt  at  the  want 


*  The  women  of  lower  rank  wlio  attended  tha 
debates  of  the  Council,  plying  the  task  of  knitting 
while  they  listened  to  politics,  were  so  denominat- 
ed. They  were  always  zealous  democrats,  and 
might  claim  in  one  sense  Sliakspearc's  descrip- 
tion of  ,1. 
"  The  free  maids,  who  weave  their  thread  with 
%nes." 


320 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXXIV 


of  confidence  which  this  caution  implied, 
and  said,  "  What,  general !  dare  you  not 
trust  your  own  little  Augereau  ?"  He  went 
to  St.  Cloud  accordingly. 

Some  preparations  were  necessary  to  put 
the  palace  of  St.  Cloud  in  order  to  receive 
the  two  Councils ;  the  Orangerie  being  as- 
signed to  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred  ; 
the  Gallery  of  Mars  to  that  of  the  An- 
cients. 

In  the  Council  of  Ancients,  the  Moderes, 
having  the  majority,  were  prepared  to  car- 
ry forward  and  complete  their  measures  for 
a  change  of  government  and  constitution. 
But  the  minority,  having  rallied  after  the 
surprise  of  the  preceding  day,  were  neitlier 
silent  nor  passive.  The  Commission  of  In- 
spectors, whose  duty  it  was  to  convene  tiie 
Council,  were  inculpated  severely  for  hav- 
ing omitted  to  give  information  to  sev- 
eral leading  members  of  the  minority,  of 
the  extraordinary  convocation  which  took 
place  at  such  an  unwonted  hour  on  the 
morning  preceding.  The  propriety,  nay 
the  legality,  of  the  transference  of  the 
Legislative  Bodies  to  St.  Cloud,  was  also 
challenged.  A  sharp  debate  took  place, 
which  was  terminated  by  the  appearance  of 
Napoleon,  who  entered  the  hall,  and  har- 
angued the  members  by  permission  of  the 
president.  "  Citizens,"  said  he,  "  you  are 
placed  upon  a  volcano.  Let  me  tell  you 
the  truth  with  the  frankness  of  a  soldier. 
Citizens,  I  was  remaining  tranquil  with  my 
family,  when  the  commands  of  the  Council 
of  Ancients  called  me  to  arms.  I  collect- 
ed my  brave  military  companions,  and 
brought  forward  the  arms  of  the  country  in 
obedience  to  you  who  are  the  head.  We 
are  rewarded  with  calumny — they  compare 
me  to  Cromwell — to  Caesar.  Had  I  desir- 
ed to  usurp  the  supreme  authority,  1  have 
had  opportunities  to  do  so  before  now.  But 
I  swear  to  you  the  country  has  not  a  more 
disinterested  patriot.  We  are  surrounded 
by  dangers  and  by  civil  war.  Let  us  not 
hazard  the  loss  of  those  advantages  for 
which  we  have  made  such  sacrifices — Lib- 
erty and  Equality." 

"And  the  Constitution!"  exclaimed  Lin- 
glet,  a  democratic  member,  interrupting  a 
speech  which  seemed  to  be  designedly 
vague  and  ine.tplicit. 

"The  Constitution!"  answered  Buona- 
parte, giving  way  to  a  more  natural  expres- 
sion of  his  feelings,  and  avowing  his  object 
more  clearly  than  he  had  yet  dared  to  do — 
•'  It  was  violated  on  the  13th  Fructidor — 
violated  on  the  22d  Floreal — violated  on  the 
30th  Prairial.  All  parties  have  invoked  it 
— all  have  disregarded  it  in  turn.  It  can  be 
no  longer  a  means  of  safety  to  any  one,  since 
it  obtains  the  respect  of  no  one.  Since  we 
cannot  preserve  the  Constitution,  let  us  at 
least  save  Liberty  and  Equality,  the  founda- 
tions on  which  it  is  erected."  He  went  on 
in  the  same  strain  to  assure  them,  that  for 
the  safety  of  the  Republic  he  relied  onlv  on 
the  wisdom  and  power  of  the  Council  of 
Ancients,  since  in  the  Council  of  Five 
Hundred  were  found  those  men  who  desir- 
ed to  bring  back  the  Convention,  with  its 
revolutionary  committees,  its  scaffolds,  its 


popular  insurrections.  "  But  I,"  he  said, 
''  will  save  you  from  such  horrors — I  and 
my  brave  comrades  at  arms,  whose  swords 
and  caps  I  see  at  the  door  of  the  hall ;  and 
if  any  hired  orator  shall  talk  of  outlawry,  I 
will  appeal  to  the  valour  of  my  comrades, 
with  whom  I  have  fought  and  conquered  for 
liberty." 

The  Assembly  invited  the  Genrral  to 
detail  the  particulars  of  the  conspiracy  to 
which  he  had  alluded,  but  he  confined  him- 
self to  a  reference  to  the  testimony  of 
Sieves  and  Ducos  ;  and  again  reiterating 
that  the  Constitution  could  not  save  the 
country,  and  inviting  the  Council  of  An- 
cients to  adopt  some  course  which  might  en- 
able them  to  do  so,  he  left  them,  amid  cries 
of  Vive  Buonaparte  !"  loudly  echoed  by  the 
military  in  the  court-yard,  to  try  the  effect 
of  his  eloquence  on  the  more  unmanagea- 
ble Council  of  Five  Hundred. 

The  deputies  of  the  younger  Council 
having  found  the  place  designed  for  their 
meeting  filled  with  workmen,  were  for  some 
time  in  a  situation  which  seemed  to  resem- 
ble the  predicament  of  the  National  As- 
sembly at  Versailles,  when  they  took  refuge 
in  a  tennis-court.  The  recollection  was  of 
such  a  nature  as  inflamed  and  animated  their 
resolution,  and  they  entered  the  Orangerie, 
when  at  length  admitted,  in  no  good  hu- 
mour with  the  Council  of  Ancients,  or  with 
Buonaparte.  Proposals  of  accommodation 
had  been  circulated  among  them  ineffectu- 
ally. They  would  have  admitted  Buona- 
parte into  the  Directory,  but  refused  to  con- 
sent to  any  radical  change  in  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  year  Three. 

The  debate  of  the  day,  remarkable  as  the 
last  in  which  the  Republican  party  enjoyed 
the  full  freedom  of  speech  in  France,  was 
opened  on  19th  Brumaire,  at  two  o'clock, 
Lucien  Buonaparte  being  president.  Gau- 
din,  a  member  of  the  moderate  party,  began 
by  moving,  that  a  committee  of  seven  mem- 
bers should  be  formed,  to  report  upon  the 
state  of  the  Republic ;  and  that  measures 
should  be  taken  for  opening  a  correspond- 
ence with  the  Council  of  Ancients.  He  was 
interrupted  by  exclamations  and  clamour 
on  the  part  of  the  majority. 

'•  The  Constitution  !  The  Constitution  or 
Death  !"  was  echoed  and  re-echoed  on  eve» 
ry  side.  "  Bayonets  frighten  us  not,"  said 
Delbrel ;  "  we  are  freemen." 

'•Down  with  the  dictatorship — no  Dicta- 
tors !"  cried  other  members. 

Lucien  in  vain  endeavoured  to  restore 
order.  Gaudin  was  dragged  from  the  tri- 
bune ;  the  voice  of  other  Moderates  was 
overpowered  by  clamour — never  had  the 
party  of  democracy  shown  itself  fiercer  or 
more  tenacious  than  when  about  to  receive 
the  death-blow. 

"■  Let  us  swear  to  preserve  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  year  Three  !"  exclaimed  Del- 
brel ;  and  the  applause  which  followed  the 
proposition  was  so  general,  that  it  silenced 
all  resistance.  Even  the  members  of  the 
moderate  party — nay,  even  Lucien  Buona- 
parte  himself — were  compelled  to  take  the 
oath  of  fidelity  to  the  Constitution,  which 
he  and  they  were  leagued  to  destroy. 


Chap.  XXXIV.]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  321 

"  The  oath  you  have  just  taken,"  said  Bi-  |  dottc,  who  were  ready  to  act  on  the  pop.i- 
<Tonrtet  '•  will  occupy  a  place  in  the  annals  lar  side,  had  the  soldiers  shown  the  lea-t 
of  history  beside  the  celebrated  vow  taken  hesitation  in  yielding  obedience  to  Buona- 
in  the  tennis-court.  The  one  was  the  foun-  ]  parte,  perceived  no  opening  of  which  to 
dation  of  liberty,  the  other  shall  consolidate    avail  themselves. 


the  structure."  In  the  midst  of  this  ftr 
mentation,  the  letter  containing  the  resigna 
tion  of  Barras  was  read,  and  received  with 
marks  of  contempt,  as  the  act  of  a  soldier 
deserting  his  post  in  the  time  of  danger. 
The  moderate  party  seemed  silenced,  over- 
powered, and  on  the  point  of  coalescing 
with  the  great  majority  of  the  Council, 
when  the  clash  of  arms  was  heard  at  the 
entrance  of  the  apartment.  All  eyes  were 
turned  to  that  quarter.  Bayonets,  drawn 
fiabres,  the  plumed  hats  of  general  officers 
and  aids-de-camp,  and  the  caps  of  grena- 
diers, were  visible  without,  while  Napoleon 
entered  the  Orangerie,  attended  by  four 
grenadiers  belonging  to  the  constitutional 
guard  of  the  Councils.  The  soldiers  re- 
mained at  the  bottom  of  the  hall,  while  he 
advanced,  with  a  measured  step  and  uncov- 
ered, about  one-third  up  the  room. 

He  was  received  with  loud  murmurs. 
•'  What  I  drawn  weapons,  armed  men,  sol- 
diers in  the  sanctuary  of  the  laws  !"'  exclaim- 
ed the  members,  whose  courage  seemed  to 
rise  against  the  display  of  force  with  which 
they  were  menaced.  All  the  deputies  arose, 
some  rushed  on  Buonaparte,  and  seized  him 
Dy  the  collar  ;  others  called  out — ■'  Outlaw- 
ry— outlawry — let  him  be  proclaimed  a  trai- 
tor !"  It  is  said  that  Arena,  a  native  of 
Corsica  like  himself,  aimed  a  dagger  at  his 
breast,  which  was  only  averted  by  the  in- 
terposition of  one  of  the  grenadiers.  The 
fact  seems  extremely  doubtful,  though  it  is 
certain  that  Buonaparte  was  seized  by  tv,-o 
or  three  members,  while  others  exclaimed, 
"  Was  it  for  this  you  gained  so  many 
victories  V  and  loaded  him  with  reproach- 
es. At  this  crisis  a  party  of  grenadiers 
rushed  into  the  hall  with  drawn  swords,  and 
extricating  Buonaparte  from  the  deputies, 
bore  him  off  in  their  arras  breathless  with 
the  scuffle. 

It  was  probably  at  this  crisis  that  Auge- 
reau's  faith  in  his  ancient  general's  fortune 
began  to  totter,  and  his  revolutionary  prin- 
ciples to  gain  an  ascendance  over  his  mili- 
tary devotion.  "  A  fine  situation  you  have 
brought  yourself  into,"  he  said  to  Buona- 
parte, who  answered  sternly,  '"  Augereau, 
things  were  worse  at  Areola — Take  my  ad- 
vice— remain  quiet,  in  a  short  time  all  this 
will  change."  Augereau,  whose  active  as- 
sistance and  co-operation  might  have  been 
at  this  critical  period  of  the  greatest  conse- 
quence to  the  Council,  took  tlie  hint,  and 
continued  passive.*      Jourdan  and  Berna- 


*The  Moniteur  is  anxious  to  exculpate  Auee- 
Ma.u  from  having  taken  any  part  in  favour  of  tlie 
routed  party  on  the  19th  Brumairc.  That  officpi , 
it  says,  did  not  join  in  the  general  oath  of  fidelity 
to  the  Constitution  of  the  year  Three.  The  same 
official  paper  adds,  that  on  the  evening  of  the  19th, 
being  invited  by  some  of  the  leading  persons  of  the 
democratic  faction,  to  take  the  military  command 
of  their  partisans,  he  had  asked  them  bv  way  of 
reply,  "  Whether  they  supposed  he  wou?d  tarnish 
the  reputation  he  had  acquired  in  the  army,  by 
Uking  command  of  wretches  )ike  them  .'"  .'\iige- 
VOL.   I,  0% 


The  Council  remained  in  the  highest 
state  of  commotion,  the  general  voice  ac- 
cusing Buonaparte  of  having  usurped  the 
supreme  authority,  calling  for  a  sentence 
of  outlawi-v,  or  demanding  that  he  should 
be  brought  to  the  bar.  "  Can  you  ask  me  to 
put  the  outlawry  of  my  own  brother  to  the 
vote  ?"  said  Lucien.  But  this  appeal  to 
his  personal  situation  and  feelings  made  no 
impression  upon  the  Assembly,  who  con- 
tinued clamorously  to  demand  the  question. 
At  length  Lucien  flung  on  the  desk  his  hat, 
scarf,  and  other  parts  of  his  official  dress. 
"  Let  me  be  rather  heard,"  he  said,  "  as 
the  advocate  of  him  whom  you  falsely  and 
rashly  accuse."  But  this  request  only  ad- 
ded to  the  tumult.  At  this  moment  a  small 
body  of  grenadiers,  sent  by  Napoleon  to  his 
brother's  assistance,  marched  into  the  hall. 
They  were  at  first  received  with  ap- 
plause*; for  the  Council,  accustomed  to  see 
the  triumph  of  democratical  opinions  among 
the  military,  did  not  doubt  that  they  were 
deserting  their  general  to  range  themselves 
on  the  side  of  the  deputies.  Their  appear- 
ance was  but  momentary — they  instantly 
left  the  hall,  carrying  Lucien  in  the  centre 
of  the  detachment. 

Matters  were  now  come  to  extremity  ou 
either  side.  The  Council,  thrown  into  the 
greatest  disorder  by  these  repeated  military 
incursions,  remained  in  violent  agitation,  fu- 
rious against  Buonaparte,  but  without  the 
calmness  necessary  to  adopt  decisive  mea- 
sures. 

Meantime  the  sight  of  Napoleon,  almost 
breathless,  and  bearing  marks  of  personal 
violence,  excited  to  the  highest  the  indig- 
nation of  the  military.  lu  broken  words 
he  told  them,  that  when  he  wished  to  show 
them  the  road  to  lead  the  country  to  victo- 
ry and  fame,  "  they  had  answered  him  with 
dangers." 

Cries  of  resentment  arose  from  the  sol- 
diery, augmented  when  the  party  sent  to 
extricate  the  President  broug;ht  him  to  the 
ranks  as  to  a  sanctuary.  Lucien,  who  sec- 
onded his  brother  admirably,  or  rather  who 
led  the  way  in  this  perilous  adventure, 
mounted  on  horseback  instantly,  and  called 
out,  in  a  voice  naturally  deep  and  sonorous, 
"  General,  and  you,  soldiers  !  The  Presi- 
dent of  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred  pro- 
claims to  you,  that  factious  men,  witli 
drawn  daggers,  have  interrupted  the  delib- 
erations of  the  Assembly — He  authorizes 
you  to  employ  force  against  these  disturt>- 
era— The  Assembly  of  Five  Hundred  is  dis- 
solved!" 
Murat,  deputed  by  Buonaparte  to  execute 

reau,  it  may  be  rwnembered,  was  the  general  who 
wa^  sent  by  Buonaparte  to  Paris  to  act  as  military 
chief  on  the  part  of  the  Directory,  in  the  revolution 
of  the  18ih  Fructidor,  in  which  the  soldiery  had 
willingly  followed  him.  Buonaparte  was  probably 
well  pleased  to  keep  a  man  of  his  military  reputa- 
tion anil  resolved  character  out  of  the  combat  if 
possible 


322 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXIV. 


the    commands    of   Lucien,    entered    the  |  numbers  who  witnessed  the  scene  no  proof 
Orangerie  with  drums  beating,  at  the  head  i  was  ever  appealed  to,  save  the  real   evi- 


of  a  detachment  with  fixed  bayonets.  He 
summoned  the  deputies  to  disperse  on  their 
peril,  while  an  officer  of  the  constitutional 
guard  called  out,  he  could  be  no  longer  an- 
swerable for  their  safety.  Cries  of  fear  be- 
came now  mingled  with  vociferations  of 
rage,  execrations  of  abhorrence,  and  shouts 
of  Vive  la  Republique.  An  officer  then 
mounted  the  President's  seat,  and  summon- 
ed the  representatives  to  retire.  "  The 
General,"  said  he,  "  has  given  orders." 

Some  of  the  deputies  and  spectators  be- 
gan now  to  leave  the  hall ;  the  greater  part 
continued  firm,  and  sustained  the  shouts 
by  which  they  reprobated  this  military  in- 
trusion. The  drums  at  length  struck  up, 
and. drowned  further  remonstrance. 

"Forward,  grenadiers,"  said  the  officer 
who  commanded  the  party.  They  levelled 
their  muskets,  and  advanced  as  if  to  the 
charge.  The  deputies  seem  hitherto  to 
have  retained  a  lingering  hope  that  their 
persons  would  be  regarded  as  inviolable. 
They  now  fled  on  all  sides,  most  of  them 
jumping  from  the  windows  of  the  Orange- 
rie, and  leaving  behind  them  their  official 
caps,  scarfe,  and  gowns.  In  a  very  few 
.minutes  the  apartments  were  entirely  clear ; 
anj  thus,  furnishing,  at  its  conclusion,  a 
striking  parallel  to  the  scene  which  ended 
■the  Long  Parliament  of  Charles  the  First's 
time,  terminated  the  last  democratical  as- 
sembly of  France. 

Buonaparte  affirms,  that  one  of  the  gen- 
eral officers  in  his  suite  offered  to  take  the 
command  of  fifty  men,  and  place  them  in 
ambush  to  fire  on  the  deputies  in  their 
flight,  which  he  wisely  declined  as  a  use- 
less and  gratuitous  cruelty. 

The  result  of  these  violent  and  extraor- 
dinary measures  was  intimated  to  the  Coun- 
cil of  Ancients ;  the  immediate  cause  of 
the  expulsion  of  the  Five  Hundred  being  re- 
ferred to  the  alleged  violence  on  the  person 
of  Buonaparte,  which  was  said  by  one  mem- 
ber to  have  been  committed  by  Arena, 
while  another  exaggerated  the  charge,  by 
asserting  that  it-was  offered  in  consequence 
of  Buonaparte's  having  made  disclosure  of 
some  mal-practices  of  the  Corsican  deputy 
while  in  Italy.  The  Moniteur  soon  after 
improved  this  story  of  Arena  and  his  sin- 
gle poniard,  into  a  party  consisting  of  Are- 
na, Marquezzi,  and  other  deputies,  armed 
with  pistols  and  daggers.  At  other  times, 
Buonaparte  was  said  to  have  been  wounded, 
which  certainly  was  not  the  case.  The  ef- 
fect of  the  example  of  Brutus  upon  a  repub- 
lican, and  an  Italian  to  boot,  might  render 
_^the  conduct  ascribed  to  Arena  credible 
"enough  j  but  the  existence  of  a  party  armed 
with  pocket-pistols  and  daggers,  for  the 
purpose  of  opposing  regular  troops,  is  too 
ridiculous  to  be  believed.  Arena  published 
ft  denial   of  the  attempt ;   and  among  the 


dence  of  a  dagger  found  on  the  floor,  and 
the  torn  sleeve  of  a  grenadier's  coat,  cir- 
cumstances which  might  be  accounted  for 
many  ways.  But  having  served  at  the  time 
as  a  popular  apology  for  the  strong  meas- 
ures which  had  been  adopted,  the  rumour 
was  not  allowed  to  fall  asleep.  Thom6, 
the  grenadier,  was  declared  to  have  merit- 
ed well  of  his  country  by  the  Legislative 
Body,  entertained  at  dinner  by  the  General, 
and  rewarded^  with  a  salute  and  a  valuable 
jewel  by  Josephine.  Other  reports  were 
put  in  circulation  concerning  the  violent 
purposes  of  the  Jacobins.  It  was  said  the 
ancient  revolutionist,  Santerrc,  was  setting 
a  popular  movement  on  foot,  in  the  Faux- 
bourg  Saint  Antoine,  and  that  Buonaparte, 
through  the  Ex-Director  Moulins,  had  cau- 
tioned him  against  proceeding  in  his  pur- 
pose, declaring,  that  if  he  did,  he  would 
have  him  shot  by  martial  law. 

But  the  truth  is,  that  although  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  popular  party  enter- 
tained a  full  purpose  of  revolutionizing  the 
government  anew,  and  restoring  its  repub- 
lican character,  yet  they  were  anticipated 
and  surprised  by  the  movement  of  the  18th 
and  i9th  Brumaire,  which  could  not,  there- 
fore, in  strict  language,  be  justified  as  a  de- 
fensive measure.  Its  excuse  must  rest  on 
the  proposition  which  seems  undoubted, 
that  affairs  were  come  to  such  extremity 
that  a  contest  was  unavoidable,  and  that 
therefore  it  was  necessary  for  the  mode- 
rate party  to  take  the  advantage  of  the  first 
blow,  though  they  exposed  themselves  in 
doing  so  to  the  reproach  of  being  called  the 
aggressors  in  the  contest. 

The  Council  of  Ancients  had  expressed 
some  alarm  and  anxiety  about  the  employ- 
ment of  military  force  against  the  other 
branch  of  the  constitutional  representation. 
But  Lucien  Buonaparte,  having  succeeded 
in  rallying  around  him  about  a  hundred  of 
the  Council  of  the  Juniors,  assumed  the 
character  and  office  of  that  Legislative 
Body,  now  effectually  purged  of  all  the  dis- 
sidents, and,  as  President  of  the  Five  Hun- 
dred, gave  to  the  Council  of  Ancients  such 
an  explanation,  as  they,  nothing  loath  to 
be  convinced,  admitted  to  be  satisfactory. 
Botli  Councils  then  adjourned  till  the  19th 
February  1800,  after  each  had  devolved 
their  powers  upon  a  committee  of  twenty- 
five  persons,  who  were  instructed  to  pre- 
pare a  civil  code  against  the  meeting  of 
the  Legislative  Bodies.  A  provisional  con- 
sular government  was  appointed,  consisting 
of  Buonaparte,  Sieves,  and  Roger  Ducos. 

The  victory,  therefore,  of  the  18th  and 
19th  Brumaire,  was,  by  dint  of  sword  and 
bayonet,  completely  secured.  It  remained 
for  the  conquerors  to  consider  the  usM 
which  were  to  be  made  of  it. 


Ch'.ip.  A'A'AT.l         LIFE  OF  IS■APOLEO^■  BUO>\\PARTE. 


:3-23 


CHAP.  XXZV. 

Effects  of  the  Victory  of  the   ISth   and  I9th  Bntmaire.— Clemency  of  the  New  Con- 
sulate.— Beneficial  change  in  the  Finances.— Law  of  Hostages  repealed.— Religion.-t 


pointmen't  oftlie  Abbe  Sieyes 
stitution — Adopted  in  part — but  rejected  m  essentials. — A  neio  one  adopted,  monarch- 
ical in  everything  but  form. — Sieyes  retires  from  public  life  on  a  pension. — General 
view  of  the  new  Consular  form  of  Government. — Despotic  power  of  the  First  Consul — 
Reflections  upon  Buonaparte's  Conduct  upon  this  occasion. 


The  victory  obtained  over  the  Directory 
and  the  democrats,  upon  the  18th  and  I'Jth 
Brumaire,  was  generally  acceptable  to  the 
French  nation.  The  feverish  desire  of  lib- 
erty, which  had  been  the  characteristic  of 
all  descriptions  of  persons  in  the  year  1792, 
was  quenched  by  the  bloodshed  during  the 
Reign  of  Terror";  and  even  just  and  liberal 
ideas  of  freedom  had  so  far  fallen  into  dis- 
repute, from  their  resemblance  to  those 
which  had  been  used  as  a  pretext  for  the 
disgusting  cruelties  perpetrated  at  that  ter- 
rible period,  that  they  excited  from  associ- 
ation a  kind  of  loathing  as  well  as  dread. 
The  great  mass  of  the  nation  sought  no  lon- 
ger guarantees  for  metaphysical  rights,  but, 
broken  down  by  suffering,  desired  repose, 
and  were  willing  to  submit  to  any  govern- 
ment which  promised  to  secure  to  them  the 
ordinary  benefits  of  civilization. 

Buonaparte  and  Sieves, — for,  though  only 
during  a  brief  space,  they  may  still  be  regard- 
ed as  joint  authorities,— were  enabled  to  prof- 
it by  this  general  acquiescence,  in  many  im- 
portant particulars.  It  put  it  in  their  power 
to  dispense  with  the  necessity  of  pursuing 
and  crushing  their  scattered  adversaries ; 
and  the  French  saw  a  revolution  effected  in 
their  system,  and  that  by  military  force,  in 
which  not  a  drop  of  blood  was  spilt.  Yet, 
as  had  been  the  termination  of  most  recent 
revolutions,  lists  of  proscriptions  were  pre- 
pared ;  and  without  previous  trial  or  legal 
sentence,  fifty-nine  of  those  who  had  chiefly 
opposed  the  new  Consulate  on  the  18th  and 
19th  Brumaire  were  condemned  to  deporta- 
tion by  the  sole^a<  of  the  Consuls.  Sieyes 
is  said  to  have  suggested  this  unjust  and  ar- 
bitrary measure,  which,  bearing  a  colour  of 
revenge  and  persecution,  was  highly  un- 
popular. It  was  not  carried  into  execution. 
Exceptions  were  at  first  made  in  favour  of 
such  of  the  condemned  persons  as  showed 
themselves  disposed  to  be  tractable  ;  and  at 
length  the  sentence  was  altogether  dispens- 
ed with,  and  the  more  obnoxious  partisans 
of  democracy  were  only  placed  under  the 
superintendence  of  the  police.  This  con- 
duct showed  at  once  conscious  strength, 
and  a  spirit  of  clemency,  than  which  no  at- 
tributes can  contribute  more  to  the  popu- 
larity of  a  new  government ;  since  the  spirit 
of  the  opposition,  deprived  of  hope  of  suc- 
cess, and  yet  not  urged  on  by  despair  of  i 
personal  safety,  gradually  becomes  disposed 
to  sink  into  acquiescence.  The  democrats, 
or,  as  tliey  were  now  termed,  the  anarch- 
Mt8,  became  intimidated,  or  cooled  in  their 
real ;  and  only  a  few  of  the  more  enthusi- 


astic continued  yet  to  avow  those  princi- 
ples, to  breathe  the  leastdoubt  of  which  had 
been,  within  but  a  few  months,  a  crime 
worthy  of  death. 

Other  and  most  important  decrees  were 
adopted  by  the  Consuls,  tending  to  lighten 
the  burdens  which  their  predecessors  had 
imposed  on  the  nation,  and  which  had  ren- 
dered their  government  so  unpopular.  Two 
of  the  most  oppressive  measures  of  the  Di- 
rectors were  repealed  without  delay. 

The  first  referred  to  the  finances,  which 
were  found  in  a  state  of  ruinous  exhaustion, 
and  were  only  maintained  by  a  system  of 
compulsory  and  progressive  loans,  according 
to  r.ites  of  assessment  on  the  property  of 
the  citizens.  The  new  minister  offinance, 
Gaudin,  would  not  even  go  to  bed,  or  sleep 
a  single  night,  until  he  had  produced  a  sub- 
stitute for  this  ruinous  resource,  for  whiclj 
he  levied  an  additional  rise  of  twenty-five 
per  cent,  on  all  contributions,  direct  and  in- 
direct, which  produced  a  large  sum.  He 
carried  order  and  regularity  into  all  the  de- 
partments of  finance,  improved  the  col- 
lection and  income  of  the  funds  of  the  Re- 
public, and  inspired  so  much  confidence  by 
the  moderation  and  success  of  his  meas- 
ures, that  credit  began  to  revive,  and  sev- 
eral loans  were  attained  on  easy  terms. 

The  repeal  of  the  law  of  hostages  was  a 
j  measure  equally  popular.  This  cruel  and 
unreasonable  enactment,  which  rendered 
j  the  aged  and  weak,  unprotected  females, 
!  and  helpless  children  of  emigrants,  or  arm- 
ed royalists,  responsible  for  the  actions  of 
their  relatives,  was  immediately  mitigated. 
Couriers  were  despatched  to  open  the  pris- 
,  ons  ;  and  this  act  of  justice  and  humanity 
;  was  hailed  as  a  pledge  of  returning  mode- 
ration and  liberality. 

Important  measures  were  also  taken  for 
tranquillizing  the  religious  discord  by  whicli 
the  country  had  been  so  long  agitated. 
Buonaparte,  who  had  lately  professed  him- 
self more  than  half  persuaded  of  the  trntli 
of  Mahommed's  mission,  became  now — 
such  was  the  decree  of  Providence — the 
means  of  restoring  to  France  the  free  exer- 
cise of  the  Christian  faith.  The  raummerv 
of  Keveilliere  Lepaux's  heathenism  was  by 
general  consent  abandoned.  The  churches 
were  restored  to  public  worship  ;  pensions 
were  allowed  to  such  religious  persons  us 
took  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  government  ; 
and  more  than  twenty  thousand'clergymeii, 
with  whom  the  prisons  had  been  filled,  in 
consequence  of  intolerant  laws,  were  set  at 
liberty  upon  taking  the  same  vow.     Public 


324 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


ICItap.  XXXV. 


and  domestic  rites  of  worship  in  every  form 
were  tolerated  and  protected ;  and  the  law 
of  the  decades,  or  Theophilanthropic  festi- 
rals,  was  abolished.  Even  the  earthly  rel- 
ics of  Pope  Pius  VL,  who  had  died  at  Va- 
lence, and  in  exile,  were  not  neglected,  but 
received,  singular  to  relate,  the  rites  of  sep- 
ulture with  the  solemnity  due  to  his  high 
office,  by  command  of  Buonaparte,  who  had 
first  shaken  the  Papal  authority  ;  and  in  do- 
ing so,  as  he  boasted  in  his  Egyptian  proc- 
lamations, had  destroyed  the  emblem  of 
OJiristian  worship. 

'The  part  taken  by  Cambaceres,  the  Min- 
ister of  Justice,  in  the  revolution  of  Bru- 
maire,  had  been  agreeable  to  Buonaparte ; 
and  his  moderation  now  aided  him  in  the 
lenient  measures  which  he  had  determined 
to  adopt.  He  was  a  good  lawyer,  and  a 
man  of  sense  and  information,  and  under 
his  administration  means  were  taken  to  re- 
lax the  oppressive  severity  of  the  laws 
against  the  emigrants.  Nine  of  them,  no- 
blemen of  the  most  ancient  families  in 
France,  had  been  thrown  on  the  coast  near 
Calais  by  shipwreck,  and  the  Directors  had 
meditated  bringing  to  trial  those  whom  the 
winds  and  waves  had  spared,  as  falling 
under  the  class  of  emigrants  returned  to 
France  without  permission,  against  whom 
the  laws  denounced  the  penalty  of  death. 
Buonaparte  more  liberally  considered  their 
being  found  within  the  prohibited  territory, 
as  an  act,  not  of  volition,  but  of  inevitable 
necessity,  and  they  were  dismissed  accord- 
ingly. 

From  the  same  spirit  of  politic  clemency, 
La  Fayette,  Latour  Maubourg,  and  others, 
who,  although  revolutionists,  had  been  ex- 
pelled from  France  for  not  carrying  their 
principles  of  freedom  sufficiently  high  and 
far,  were  permitted  to  return  to  their  na- 
tive country. 

It  may  be  easily  believed  that  the  military 
department  of  the  state  underwent  a  com- 
plete reform  under  the  authority  of  Buona- 
parte. Dubois  de  Crance,  the  Minister  at 
War  under  the  Directors,  was  replaced  by 
Berthier ;  and  Napoleon  gives  a  strange 
picture  of  the  incapacity  of  the  former 
functionary.  He  declares  he  could  not  fur- 
nish a  single  report  of  the  state  of  the  ar- 
my— that  he  had  obtained  no  regular  returns 
of  the  effective  strength  of  the  different 
regiments — that  many  corps  had  been  form- 
ed in  the  departments,  whose  very  exist- 
ence was  unknown  to  the  minister  at  war  ; 
and  finally,  that  when  pressed  for  reports 
of  the  pay,  of  the  victualling,  and  of  tlie 
clothing  of  the  troops,  he  had  replied,  that 
the  war  department  neither  paid,  clothed, 
nor  victualled  them.  This  may  be  exag- 
gerated, for  Napoleon  disliked  Dubois  de 
Craned  as  his  personal  opponent ;  but  the 
improvident  and  corrupt  cliaracter  of  the 
directorial  government  renders  the  charge 
very  probable.  By  tJie  exertions  of  Ber- 
thier, accustomed  to  Buonaparte's  mode  of 
arrangements,  the  war  department  soon 
miopted  a  very  different  face  of  activity. 

The  same  department  received  yet  addi- 
tional vigour  when  the  Consuls  called  to  be 
Its  head  the  celebrated  Carnot.  who  had  re- 


turned from  exile,  in  consequence  of  the 
fall  of  the  Directors.  He  remained  in  of- 
fice biit  a  short  time,  for,  being  a  democrat 
in  principle,  he  disapproved  of  the  persona) 
elevation  of  Buonaparte  ;    but  during  the 

Eeriod  that  he  continued  in  administration, 
is  services  in  restoring  order  in  the  milita- 
ry  department,  and  combining  the  plane  of 
the  campaign  with  Moreau  and  Buonaparte, 
were  of  the  highest  importance. 

Napoleon  showed  no  less  talent  in  clos- 
ing the  wounds  of  internal  war,  than  in  hia 
other  arrangements.  The  Chouans,  under 
various  chiefs,  had  disturbed  the  western 
provinces ;  but  the  despair  of  pardon,  which 
drove  so  many  malcontents  to  their  stand- 
ard, began  to  subside,  and  the  liberal  and 
accommodating  measures  adopted  by  the 
new  Consular  government,  induced  most 
to  make  peace  with  Buonaparte.  This 
they  did  the  more  readily,  that  many  of 
them  believed  the  Chief  Consul  intended 
by  degrees,  and  when  the  opportunity  of- 
fered, to  accomplish  the  restoration  of  the 
Bourbons.  Many  of  the  chiefs  of  the 
Chouans  submitted  to  him,  and  afterwards 
supported  his  government.  Chatillon,  Su- 
zannet,  D'Autichamp,  nobles  and  chiefs  of 
the  Royalist  army,  submitted  at  Montlu- 
con,  and  their  reconciliation  with  the  gov- 
ernment, being  admitted  on  liberal  terms, 
was  sincerely  observed  by  them.  Bernier, 
rector  of  St.  Lo,  who  had  great  influence 
in  La  Vendee,  also  made  his  peace,  and  was 
afterwards  made  Bishop  of  Orleans  by 
Buonaparte,  and  employed  in  negotiating 
the  Concordat  with  the  Pope. 

Count  Louis  de  Frotte,  an  enterprising 
and  high-spirited  young  nobleman,  refused 
for  a  long  time  to  enter  into  terms  with 
Buonaparte  ;  so  did  another  chief  of  the 
Chouans,  called  George  Cadoudal,  a  peasant 
of  the  district  of  Morbihan,  raised  to  the 
command  of  his  countrymen,  because,  with 
great  strength  and  dauntless  courage,  he 
combined  the  qualities  of  enterprise  and 
sagacity.  Frotte  was  betrayed  and  made 
prisoner  in  the  house  of  Guidal,  command- 
ant at  Alenjon,  who  had  pretended  friend- 
ship to  him,  and  had  promised  to  negotiate 
a  favourable  treaty  on  his  behalf.  He  and 
eight  or  nine  of  his  officers  were  tried  by  a 
military  commission,  and  condemned  to  be 
shot.  They  marched  hand  in  hand  to  the 
place  of  execution,  remained  to  the  last  in 
the  same  attitude,  expressive  of  their  par- 
taking the  same  sentiments  of  devotion  to 
the  cause  in  which  they  suffered,  and  died 
with  the  utmost  courage.  George  Cadou- 
dal left  alone,  became  unable  to  support 
the  civil  war,  and  laid  down  his  arms  for  a 
time.  Buonaparte,  whose  policy  it  was  to 
unite  in  the  new  order  of  things  as  many 
and  as  various  characters  as  possible,  not 
regarding  what  parts  they  had  formerly  play- 
ed, provided  they  now  attached  themselves 
to  his  person,  took  great  pains  to  gain  over 
a  man  so  resolute  as  this  daring  Breton. 
He  had  a  personal  interview  with  him, 
which  he  says  George  Codoudal  solicited  ; 
yet  why  he  should  have  done  so  it  is  hard 
to  guess,  unless  it  were  to  learn  whether 
Buonaparte  had  any  ultimate  purpose  of 


Chap.  XXXV.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOjS  BUONAPARTE. 


325 


serving  the  Bourbon  interest.  He  certain- 
ly did  not  request  the  favour  in  order  to 
drive  any  bargain  for  himself,  since  Buona- 
parte frankly  admits,  that  all  his  promises 
and  arguments  failed  to  make  any  impres- 
sion upon  him ;  and  that  he  parted  with 
George,  professing  still  to  entertain  opin- 
ions for  which  he  had  fought  so  often  and 
60  desperately.  In  another  instance  which 
happened  at  this  period,  Buonaparte  boasts 
of  having  vindicated  the  insulted  rights  of 
nations.  The  Senate  of  Hamburgh  had  de- 
livered up  to  England  Napper  Tandy,  Black- 
well,  and  other  Irishmen,  concerned  in  the 
rebellion  which  had  lately  wasted  Ireland. 
Buonaparte  took  this  up  in  a  threatening 
tone,  and  expounded  to  their  trembling 
envoy  the  rights  of  a  neutral  territory,  in 
language,  upon  which  the  subsequent  trage- 
dy of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  formed  a  singu- 
lar commentary. 

While  Buonaparte  was  thus  busied  in 
adopting  measures  for  composing  internal 
discord,  and  renewing  the  wasted  resour- 
ces'of  the  country,  those  discussions  were 
at  the  same  time  privately  carrying  forward, 
which  were  to  determine  by  whom  and  in 
what  way  it  should  be  governed.  There  is 
little  doubt,  that  when  Sieyes  undertook  the 
revolution  of  Brumaire,  he  would  have  de- 
Bired  for  his  military  assistant  a  very  differ- 
ent character  from  Buonaparte.  Some  gen- 
eral would  have  best  suited  him  who  pos- 
sessed no  knowledge  beyond  that  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  whose  ambition  would  have 
been  contented  to  accept  such  share  of 
power  as  corresponded  to  his  limited  views 
and  capacity.  The  wily  priest,  however, 
eaw,  that  no  other  coadjutor  save  Buona- 
parte could  have  availed  him,  after  the  re- 
turn of  the  latter  from  Egypt,  and  was  not 
long  of  experiencing  that  Napoleon  would 
not  be  satisfied  with  anything  short  of  the 
lion's  share  of  the  spoil. 

At  the  very  first  meeting  of  the  Consuls, 
the  defection  of  Roger  Ducos  to  the  side 
of  Buonaparte  convinced  Sieyes,  that  he 
would  be  unable  to  support  those  preten- 
Eions  to  the  first  place  in  the  government, 
to  which  his  friends  had  expected  to  see 
him  elevated.  He  had  reckoned  on  Ducos's 
vote  for  giving  him  the  situation  of  First 
Consul ;  but  Ducos  saw  better  where  the 
force  and  talent  of  the  Consulate  must  be 
considered  as  reposed.  "  General,"  said  he 
to  Napoleon,  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  Con- 
eular  body,  "  the  presidency  belongs  to  you 
as  a  matter  of  right."  Buonaparte  took 
the  chair  accordingly  as  a  thing  of  course. 
In  the  course  of  the  deliberations,  Sieyes 
had  hoped  to  find  that  the  General's  opin- 
ions and  interference  would  have  been  lim- 
ited to  military  affairs ;  whereas,  on  the 
contrary,  he  heard  him  express  distinctly, 
and  support  firmly,  propositions  on  policy 
and  finance,  religion  and  jurisprudence.  He 
showed,  in  short,  so  little  occasion  for  an 
independent  coadjutor,  that  Sieyes  appears 
from  this,  the  very  first  interview,  to  have 
given  up  all  hopes  of  establishing  a  sepa- 
rate interest  of  his  own,  and  to  have  seen 
that  the  Revolution  was  from  that  moment 
^nded.    On  his  return  home^  he  said  to 


those  statesmen  with  whom  he  had  consult- 
ed and  acted  preceding  the  18th  Brumaire, 
as  Talleyrand,  Boulay,  Roederer,  Chabanis, 
&c. — "Gentlemen,  you  have  a  Master — 
give  yourself  no  farther  concern  about  the 
affairs  of  the  state — Buonaparte  can  and 
will  manage  them  all^t  his  own  pleasure." 

This  declaration  must  have  announced  to 
those  who  heard  it,  that  the  direct  and  im- 
mediate advantages  proposed  by  the  revo- 
lution were  lost ;  that  the  government  no 
longer  rested  on  the  popular  basis,  but  that, 
in  a  mOTch  greater  degree  than  could  have 
been  said  to  have  been  the  case  during  the 
reign  of  the  Bourbons,  the  whole  measurea 
of  state  must  in  future  rest  upon  the  arbi- 
trary pleasure  of  one  man. 

It  was  in  the  meantime  necessary  that 
some  form  of  government  should  be  estab- 
lished without  delay,  were  it  only  to  pre- 
vent the  meeting  of  the  two  Councils,  who 
must  have  resumed  their  authority,  unless 
sujjerseded  by  a  new  constitution  previous 
to  the  19th  February  1800,  to  which  day 
they  had  been  prorogued.  As  a  previous 
measure,  the  oath  taken  by  official  persons 
was  altered  from  a  direct  acknowledgment 
of  the  constitution  of  the  year  Three,  so  as 
to  express  a  more  general  profession  of  ad- 
herence to  the  cause  of  the  French  nation. 
How  to  salve  the  wounded  consciences  of 
those  wlio  had  previously  taken  the  oath  in 
its  primitive  form,  no  care  was  used,  nor 
does  any  appear  to  have  been  thouglit  ne- 
cessary. 

The  three  Consuls,  and  the  Legislative 
Committees  formed  themselves  into  a  gen- 
eral Committee,  for  the  purpose  of  organiz- 
ing a  constitution  ;  and  Sieyes  was  invited 
to  submit  to  them  that  model,  on  tlie  pre- 
par-i.tion  of  which  he  used  to  pique  himself, 
and  had  been  accustomed  to  receive  the 
flattery  of  his  friends.  He  appears  to  have 
obeyed  the  call  slowly,  and  to  have  produc- 
ed his  plan  partially,  and  by  fragments ; 
probably  because  he  was  aware,  that  the 
offspring  of  his  talents  would  never  be  ac- 
cepted in  its  entire  form,  but  must  necessa- 
rily undergo  such  mutilations  as  might  fit 
it  for  the  purposes  and  to  the  pleasure  of 
the  Dictator,  wiiose  supremacy  he  had  been 
compelled  to  announce  to  his  party. 

On  being  pressed  by  his  colleagues  in  the 
committee,  the  metaphysical  politicican  at 
length  produced  his  full  plan  of  the  hie- 
rarchical representation,  whose  authority 
was  to  emanate  from  the  choice  of  the  peo- 
ple and  of  a  Conservative  Senate,  which 
was  at  once  to  protect  the  laws  of  the  com- 
monwealth and  absorb,  as  it  was  termed, 
all  furious  and  over-ambitious  spirits,  by  call- 
ing them,  when  they  distinguished  them- 
selves by  any  irregular  exertion  of  power, 
to  share  the  comforts  and  incapacities  of 
their  own  body,  as  they  say  spirits  of  old 
were  conjured  down,  and  obliged  to  abide 
in  the  Red  Sea.  He  then  brought  forward 
his  idea  of  a  Legislative  Body,  which  was 
to  vote  and  decide,  but  without  debate; 
and  his  Tribunate  designed  to  plead  for,  or  to 
impeach  the  measures  of  government.  These 
general  outlines  were  approved,  as  beine 
judged  likely  to  preserve  more  stability  and 


32G 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XXX  V 


permanence  than  had  been  found  to  apper- 
tain to  the  constitutions,  which,  since  1792, 
had  in  such  quick  succession  been  adopted 
and  abandoned. 

But  the  idea  which  Sieyes  entertained  of 
lodging  the  executive  government  in  a  Grand 
Elector,  who  was  to  be  the  very  model  of  a 
King  of  Lubberland,  was  the  ruin  of  his  plan. 
It  was  in  vain,  that  in  hopes  of  luring  Buo- 
naparte to  accept  of  this  office,  he  had,  while 
depriving  it  of  all  real  power,  attached  to 
it  a  large  revenue,  guards,  honours,  and 
rank.  The  heaping  with  such  distinctions 
an  official  person,  wlio  had  no  other  duty 
tlian  to  name  two  Consuls,  who  were  to 
carry  on  the  civil  and  military  business  of 
the  state  without  his  concurrence  or  author- 
ity, was  introducing  into  a  modern  state  the 
evils  of  a  worn-out  Asiatic  empire,  where 
the  Sultan,  or  Mogul,  or  whatever  he  is 
called,  lies  in  his  Haram  in  obscure  luxury, 
while  the  state  affairs  are  conducted  exclu- 
eively  by  his  Viziers,  or  Lieutenants. 

Buonaparte  exclaimed  against  the  whole 
concoction. — "  Who,"  said  he,  "  would 
accept  an  office,  of  which  the  only  duties 
were  to  fatten  like  a  pig  upon  so  many  mil- 
lions yearly  ?  Or  what  man  of  spirit  would 
consent  to  name  ministers,  over  whom, 
being  named,  he  was  not  to  exercise  the 
slightest  authority  ? — And  your  two  Con- 
suls for  war  and  peace,  the  one  surrounded 
with  judges,  churchmen,  and  civilians, — 
the  other  with  military  men  and  diplomatists, 
— on  what  footing  of  intercourse  can  they 
be  said  to  stand  respecting  each  other  ? — 
the  one  demanding  money  and  recruits,  the 
other  refusing  the  supplies  1  A  govern- 
ment involving  such  a  total  separation  of 
offices  necessarily  connected,  would  be 
heterogeneous, — the  shadow  of  a  state,  but 
without  the  efficient  authority  which  should 
belong  to  one." 

Sieyes  did  not  possess  powers  of  persua- 
sion or  promptness  of  speech  in  addition  to 
his  other  talents.  He  was  silenced  and  in- 
timidated, and  saw  his  favourite  Elector- 
General,  with  his  two  Consuls,  or  rather 
Viziers,  rejected,  without  making  much  ef- 
fort in  their  defence. 

Still  the  system  which  was  actually 
adopted,  bore,  in  point  of  form,  some  faint 
resemblance  to  the  model  of  Sieyes.  Three 
Consuls  were  appointed  ;  the  first  to  hold 
the  sole  power  of  nominating  to  public  of- 
fices, and  right  of  determining  on  public 
measures  ;  the  other  two  were  to  be  his  in- 
dispensable counsellors.  The  first  of  these 
offices  was  designed  to  bring  back  the  con- 
stitution of  France  to  a  monarchical  sys- 
tem, while  the  second  and  third  were  added 
merely  to  conciliate  the  Republicans,  who 
were  not  yet  prepared  for  a  retrograde 
movement. 

The  office  of  one  of  these  supplementary 
Consuls  was  offered  to  Sieyes,  but  he  de- 
clined to  accept  of  it,  and  expressed  his 
wish  to  retire  from  public  life.  His  disap- 
pointment was  probably  considerable,  at 
finding  himself  acting  but  a  second-rate 
part,  after  the  success  of  the  conspiracy 
which  he  had  himself  schemed  ;  but  his 
pride  was  not   eo   great  as  to  decline  a 


pecuniary  compensation.  Buonaparte  be- 
I  stowed  on  him  by  far  tlie  greater  part  of  the 
private  treasure  amassed  by  the  ex-direcl- 
ors.  It  was  said  to  amount  to  six  iiundred 
thousand  francs,  which  Sieyes  called  une. 
poire  pour  la  soif ;  in  English,  a  morsel  to 
stay  the  stomach.  He  was  endowed  also 
with  the  fine  domain  and  estate  of  Crosne  : 
and  to  render  the  gift  more  acceptable,  and 
save  liis  delicacy,  a  decree  was  issued, 
compelling  him  to  accept  of  this  manifest- 
ation of  national  gratitude.  The  office  of  a 
senator  gave  him  dignity ;  and  the  yearly 
appointment  of  twenty-five  thousand  francs 
annexed  to  it,  added  to  the  ease  of  his  sit- 
uation. In  sliort,  this  celebrated  metaphy- 
sician disappeared  as  a  political  person, and 
became,  to  use  his  own  expression,  absorb- 
ed in  the  pursuit  of  epicurean  indulgences, 
which  he  covered  with  a  veil  of  mystery. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  by  thus  showing  the 
greedy  and  mercenary  turn  of  his  nature, 
Sieyes,  notwithstanding  his  abilities,  lost 
in  a  great  measure  the  esteem  and  rever- 
ence of  his  countrymen  ;  and  this  was  a 
consequence  not  probably  unforeseen  by 
Buonaparte,  when  he  loaded  him  with 
wealth. 

To  return  to  the  new  constitution.  Ev- 
ery species  of  power  and  faculty  was  heap- 
ed upon  tlie  Chief  Consul,  with  a  liberality 
which  looked  as  if  France,  to  atone  for  her 
long  jealousy  of  those  who  had  been  the 
administrators  of  her  executive  power,  was 
now  determined  to  remove  at  once  every'' 
obstacle  which  nii<jht  stand  in  the  way  of 
Buonaparte  to  arbitrary  power.  He  possess- 
ed the  sole  riglit  of  nominating  counsellors 
of  state,  ministers,  ambassadors,  officers, 
civil  and  military,  and  almost  all  function- 
aries whatsoever.  He  was  to  propose  all 
new  laws,  and  take  all  measures  for  internal 
and  external  defence  of  the  state.  He 
commanded  all  the  forces,  of  whatever  de- 
scription, superintended  all  the  national  re- 
lations at  home  and  abroad,  and  coined  the 
public  money.  In  these  high  duties  he  had 
the  advice  of  his  brother  Consuls,  and  also 
of  a  Council  of  State.  But  he  was  recog- 
nized to  be  independent  of  them  all.  The 
Consuls  were  to  be  elected  for  the  space  of 
ten  years,  and  to  be  re-eligible. 

The  Abbe  Sieyes's  plan  of  dividing  the 
people  into  three  classes,  which  should 
each  of  them  declare  a  certain  number  of 
persons  eligible  to  certain  gradations  of  the 
state,  was  ostensibly  adopted.  The  lists 
of  these  eligible  individuals  were  to  be  ad- 
dressed by  the  various  electoral  classes  to 
the  Conservative  Senate,  which  also  was 
borrowed  from  the  Abbe's  model.  This 
body,  the  highest  and  most  august  in  the 
state,  were  to  hold  their  places  for  life,  and 
had  a  considerable  pension  attached  to  them. 
Their  number  was  not  to  exceed  eighty, 
and  they  were  to  have  the  power  of  sup- 
plying vacancies  in  their  own  body,  by 
choosing  the  future  senator  from  a  list  of 
three  persons  ;  one  of  them  proposed  by 
the  Chief  Consul,  one  by  the  Legislative 
Body,  and  one  by  the  Tribunate.  Senators 
became  for  ever  incapable  of  any  other 
public  duty.    Their  duty  was  to  receiva 


Chap.  XXXV.^  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 

the  national  lists  of  persons  eligible  for  of- 
ficial situations,  and  to  annul  such  laws  or 
measures  as  should  be  denounced  to  their 
body,  aa  unconstitutional  or  impolitic, 
either  by  the  Government  or  the  Tribu- 
nate. The  sittings  of  the  Senate  were  not 
public. 

The  New  Constitution  of  France  also 
adopted  the  Legislative  Body  and  the  Tri- 
bunate proposed  by  the  Abbe  Sieyes.  The 
duty  of  the  Legislative  Body  was  to  take 
into  consideration  such  laws  as  should  be 
approved  by  the  Tribunate,  and  pass  or  re- 
fuse them  by  vote,  but  without  any  debate, 
or  even  any  expression  of  their  opinion. 

The  Tribunate,  on  the  contrary,  was  a 
deliberative  body,  to  whom  the  Chief  Con- 
sul, and  bis  Council  of  State,  with  whom 
alone  lay  the  initiative' privilege,  were  to 
propose  such  laws  as  appeared  to  them  de- 
sirable. These,  when  discussed  by  the 
Tribunate  and  approved  of  by  the  silent 
assent  of  the  Legislative  Body,  passed  into 
decrees,  and  became  binding  upon  the  com- 
munity. The  Legislative  Body  heard  the 
report  of  the  Tribunate,  as  expressed  by  a 
deputation  from  that  body  ;  and  by  their 
votes  alone,  but  without  any  debate  or  de- 
livery of  opinion,  refused  or  confirmed  the 
proposal.  Some  of  the  more  important 
acts  of  government,  such  as  the  proclama- 
tion of  peace  or  war,  could  only  take  place 
on  the  motion  of  the  Chief  Consul  to  the 
Tribunate,  upon  their  recommending  the 
measure  to  the  Legislative  Body  ;  and  fi- 
nally, upon  the  Legislative  Commissions 
affirming  the  proposal.  But  the  power  of 
the  Chief  Consul  was  not  much  checked  by 
this  restriction  ;  for  the  discussion  on  such 
subjects  was  only  to  take  place  on  his  own 
requisition,  and  always  in  secret  commit- 
tee ;  so  that  the  greatest  hindrance  of  des- 
potism, the  weight  of  public  opinion  form- 
ed upon  public  debate,  was  totally  wanting. 
A  very  slight  glance  at  this  Consular  form 
of  government  is  sufficient  to  show,  that 
Buonaparte  selected  exactly  as  much  of  the 
ingenious  constitution  of  Sieyes  as  was  ap- 
plicable to  his  own  object  of  acquiring  su- 
preme and  despotic  authority,  while  he  got 
rid  of  all,  the  Tribunate  alone  excepted, 
which  contained,  directly  or  indirectly,  any 
check  or  balance  affecting  the  executive 
power.  The  substitution  of  lists  of  eligible 
persons  or  candidates,  to  be  made  up  by 
the  people,  instead  of  the  popular  election 
of  actual  representatives,  converted  into  a 
nvetaphyeical  and  abstract  idea  the  real 
safeguard  of  liberty.  It  may  be  true,  that 
the  authority  of  an  official  person,  selected 
from  the  national  lists,  might  be  said  ori- 
ginally to  emanate  from  the  people  ;  be- 
cause, unless  his  name  had  received  their 
sanction,  he  could  not  have  been  eligible. 
But  the  difference  is  inexpressibly  great, 
between  the  power  of  naming  a  single  di- 
rect representative,  and  that  of  naming  a 
thousand  persons,  any  of  whom  may  be  ca- 
pable of  being  created  a  representative  ; 
and  the  popular  interference  in  the  state, 
which  had  hitherto  comprehended  the  for- 
mer privilege,  was  now  restrained  to  the 
latter   and    more  insignificant   one.     This ' 


327 


was  the  main  error  in  Sieyes's  system,  and 
the  most  fatal  blow  to  liberty,  whose  con- 
stitutional safety  can  hardly  exist,  except- 
ing in  union  with  a  direct  and  unfettered 
national  representation,  chosen  by  the  peo- 
ple themselves. 

.Ml  the  other  balances  and  checks  which 
the  Abbe  had  designed  to  substitute  instead 
of  that  which  arises  from  popular  election, 
had  been  broken  and  cast  away ;  while  the 
fragments  of  the  scheme  that  remained 
were  carefully  adjusted,  so  as  to  form  the 
steps  by  which  Buonaparte  was  to  ascend  to 
an  unlimited  and  despotic  throne.  Sieyes 
had  proposed  that  his  Elector  General 
should  be  merely  a  graceful  termination  tf> 
his  edifice,  like  a  gilded  vane  on  the  top  of 
a  steeple — a  sovereign  without  power — a 
Rot  faineant,  with  two  Consuls  to  act  aa 
joint  Maires  des  palais.  Buonaparte,  on 
the  contrary,  gave  the  whole  executive 
power  in  the  state,  together  with  the  exclu- 
sive right  of  proposing  all  new  laws,  to  the 
Chief  Consul,  and  made  the  others  mere  ap- 
pendages, to  be  thrown  aside  at  pleasure. 

Neither  were  the  other  constitutional  au 
thorities  c.ilculated  to  offer  effectual  resist- 
ance to  the  engrossing  authority  of  this  all- 
powerful  officer.  All  these  bodies  were, 
in  fact,  mere  pensioners.  The  .Senate, 
which  met  in  secret,  and  the  Legislative 
Body,  whose  lips  were  padlocked,  were 
alike  removed  from  influencing  public  opin- 
ion, and  being  influenced  by  it.  The  Tri- 
bunate, indeed,  consisting  of  a  hundred  per- 
sons, retained  in  some  sort  the  right  of  de- 
bate, and  of  being  publicly  heard.  But  the 
members  of  the  Tribunate  were  selected 
by  the  .Senate,  not  by  the  people,  whom, 
except  in  metaphysical  mockery,  it  could 
not  be  said  to  represent,  any  more  than  a 
bottle  of  distilled  liquor  can  be  said  to  rep- 
resent the  sheaf  of  grain  which  it  was  ori- 
ginally drawn  from.  What  chance  was 
there  that,  in  a  hundred  men  so  chosen, 
there  should  be  courage  and  independence 
enougli  found  to  oppose  that  primary  pow- 
er, by  which,  like  a  steam-engine,  the 
whole  constitution  was  put  in  motion  ? 
.Such  tribunes  were  also  in  danger  of  recol- 
lecting, that  they  only  held  their  office  for 
four  years,  and  that  the  .Senators  had  their 
offices  for  life  ;  while  a  transition  from  the 
one  state  to  the  other  was  in  general 
thought  desirable,  and  could  only  be  gained 
by  implicit  obedience  during  the  candi- 
date's probation  in  the  Tribunate.  Yet, 
slender  as  was  the  power  of  this  Tribunate 
body,  Buonaparte  showed  some  jealousy 
even  of  this  slight  appearance  of  freedom  ; 
although,  justly  considered,  the  Senate,  the 
Conservative  Body,  and  the  Tribunate, 
were  but  three  different  pipes,  which  sepa- 
rately or  altogether,  uttered  sound  at  the 
pleasure  of  him  who  presided  at  the  instru- 
ment. 

The  spirit  of  France  must  have  been 
much  broken  when  this  arbitrary  system 
was  adopted  without  debate  or  contradic- 
tion ;  and  when  we  remember  the  earlier 
period  of  1789,  it  is  wonderful  to  consider 
how,  in  the  space  often  years,  the  race  of 
men,  whose  love  of  liberty  carried  them  to 


328 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XXXV. 


Buch  extravagauces,  seems  to  have  become 
exhausted.  Personal  safetj  was  now  a  prin- 
cipal object  with  most.  They  saw  no  al- 
ternative between  absolute  submission  to  a 
military  chief  of  talent  and  power,  and  the 
return  to  anarchy  and  new  revolutionary  ex- 
cesses. 

During  the  sitting  of  Buonaparte's  Legis- 
lative Committee,  Madame  de  Stael  ex- 
pressed, to  a  representative  of  the  people, 
her  alarms  on  the  subject  of  liberty.  "  Oh, 
madam,"  he  replied,  "  we  are  arrived  at  an 
extremity  in  which  we  must  not  trouble 
ourselves  about  saving  the  principles  of  the 
Revolution,  but  only  the  lives  of  the  men 
by  whom  the  Revolution  was  effected." 

Yet  more  than  one  exertion  is  said  to 
have  been  made  in  the  Committee,  to  ob- 
tain some  modification  of  the  supreme  pow- 
er of  the  Chief  Consul,  or  at  least  some 
remedy  in  case  of  its  being  abused.  Seve- 
ral members  of  the  Committee  which  ad- 
justed the  new  constitution,  made,  it  is 
said,  an  effort  to  persuade  Buonaparte, 
that,  in  taking  possession  of  the  office  of 
supreme  magistrate,  without  any  prelimina- 
ry election,  he  would  evince  an  ambition 
which  might  prejudice  him  with  the  people  ; 
and,  entreating  him  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
office  of  generalissimo  of  the  armies,  with 
full  right  of  treating  with  foreign  powers, 
invited  him  to  set  off  to  the  frontier  and  re- 
eume  his  train  of  victories.  "  I  will  remain 
at  Paris,"  said  Buonaparte,  biting  his  nails 
to  the  quick,  as  was  his  custom  when  agi-- 
tated — "  I  will  remain  at  Paris — I  am  Chief 
Consul." 

Chenier  hinted  at  adopting  the  doctrine 
of  absorption,  but  was  instantly  interrupt- 
ed—" I  will  have  no  such  mummery,"  said 
Buonaparte  ;  blood  to  the  knees  rather."* 
These  expressions  may  be  exaggerated,  but 
it  is  certain  that  whenever  there  was  an  at- 
tempt to  control  his  wishes,  or  restrict  his 
power,  such  a  discontented  remark  as  inti- 
mated "  that  he  would  meddle  no  more  in 
the  business,"  was  sufficient  to  overpower 
the  opposition.  The  Committee  saw  no 
option  betwixt  submitting  to  the  authority 
of  this  inflexible  chief,  or  encountering  the 
horrors  of  a  bloody  civil  war.  Thus  were 
lost  at  once  the  fruits  of  the  virtues,  the 
crimes,  the  blood,  the  treasure,  the  mass 
of  human  misery,  which,  flowing  from  the 
Revolution,  had  agitated  France  for  ten 
years  ;  and  thus,  having  sacrificed  almost 
all  that  men  hold  dear,  the  rights  of  human- 
ity themselves  included,  in  order  to  obtain 
national  liberty,  her  inhabitants,  without 
having  enjoyed  rational  freedom,  or  tlie  ad- 
vantages which  it  insures,  for  a  single  day, 
returned  to  be  the  vassals  of  a  despotic  gov- 
ernment, administered  by  a  chief  whose 
right  was  only  in  his  sword.  A  few  reflec- 
tions ou  what  might  or  ought  to  have  been 
Buonaparte's  conduct  in  this  crisis,  natural- 
ly arise  out  of  the  subject. 

We  are  not  to  expect,  in  the  course  of 
ordinary  life,  moral  any  more  than  physical 
miracles.  There  have  lived  men  of  a  spirit 
80  noble,  that,  in  serving  their  country,  they 


*  Memoires  de  Fouche,  vol.  I.  p.  104. 


had  no  other  object  beyond  the  merit  of 
having  done  so ;  but  such  men  belong  to  a 
less  corrupted  age  than  ours,  and  have  been 
trained  in  the  principles  of  disinterested 
patriotism,  which  did  not  belong  to  France, 
perhaps  not  to  Europe,  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  We  may,  therefore,  take  it  for 
granted,  that  Buonaparte  was  desirous,  in 
some  sliape  or  other,  to  find  his  own  inter- 
est in  the  service  of  his  country,  that  bis 
motives  were  a  mixture  of  patriotism  and 
the  desire  of  self-advancement;  and  it  re- 
mains to  consider  in  what  manner  both  ob- 
jects were  to  be  best  obtained. 

The  first  alternative  was  the  there-estab- 
lishment of  the  Republic,  upon  some  better 
and  less  perishable  model  than  those  which 
had  been  successively  adopted  and  aban- 
doned by  the  French,  in  the  several  phases 
of  tiie  Revolution.  But  Buonaparte  had  al- 
ready determined  against  this  plan  of  gov- 
ernment, and  seemed  unalterably  convinc- 
ed that  the  various  misfortunes  and  failures 
which  had  been  sustained  in  the  attempt  to 
convert  France  into  a  republic,  afforded  ir- 
refragable evidence  that  her  natural  and 
proper  constitutional  government  must  be 
monarchical.  This  important  point  settled, 
it  remained,  1st,  To  select  the  person  in 
whose  hand  the  kingly  power  was  to  be  in- 
trusted. 2dly,  To  consider  in  what  degree 
the  monarchical  principle  should  be  min- 
gled with,  and  qualified  by,  securities  for  the 
freedom  of  the  people,  and  checks  against 
the  encroachments  of  the  prince. 

Having  broken  explicitly  with  the  Repub- 
licans, Buonaparte  had  it  in  his  power, 
doubtless,  to  have  united  with  those  w)io, 
desired  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  who 
at  this  moment,  formed  a  large  proportion 
of  the  better  classes  in  France.  The  name 
of  the  old  dynasty  must  have  brought  with 
it  great  advantages.  Their  restoration  would 
have  at  once  restored  peace  to  Europe,  and 
in  a  great  measure  reconciled  the  strife  of 
parties  in  France.  There  was  no  doubt  of 
the  possibility  of  the  counter-revolution ; 
for  what  was  done  in  1814  might  have  been 
still  more  easily  done  in  1799.  Old  ideas 
would  have  returned  with  ancient  names, 
and  at  the  same  time  security  might  have 
been  given,  that  the  restored  monarch 
should  be  placed  within  such  legal  restraints 
as  were  necessary  for  the  protection  of  the 
freedom  of  the  subject.  The  principal  pow- 
ers of  Europe,  if  required,  would  have  glad- 
ly guaranteed  to  the  French  people  any 
class  of  institutions  which  might  have  been 
thought  adequate  to  this  purpose. 

But,  besides  that  such  a  course  cut  off 
Buonaparte  from  any  higher  reward  of  his 
services,  than  were  connected  with  the 
rank  of  a  subject,  the  same  objections  to 
the  restoration  of  the  Bourbon  family  stiU 
prevailed,  which  we  have  before  noticed. 
The  extreme  confusion  likely  to  be  occa- 
sioned by  the  conflicting  claims  of  the  re- 
stored emigrants,  who  had  left  France  with 
all  the  feelings  and  prejudices  peculiar  to 
their  birth  and  quality,  and  those  of  the 
numerous  soldiers  and  statesmen,  who  had 
arisen  to  eminence  during  the  revolution, 
and  whose  pretensions  to  rank  and  office 


Chap  XXXV.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


329 


would  be  urged  witli  jealous  vehemence 
against  those  who  had  shared  the  fortunes  of 
the  exiled  monarch, was  a  powerful  objection 
to  the  restoration.  The  question  concerning 
the  national  domains,  remained  as  embar- 
rassing as  before  ;  for  while  the  sales  which 
had  been  made  of  that  property  could  scarce 
be  cancelled  without  a  severe  shock  to  na- 
tional credit,  the  restored  Bourbons  could 
not,  on  the  other  hand,  fail  to  insist  upon  an 
indemnification  to  the  spirituality,  who  had 
been  stripped  of  their  property  for  adher- 
ence to  their  religious  vows,  and  to  the  no- 
oles,  whose  estates  had  been  forfeited  for 
their  adherence  to  the  throne.  It  might  al- 
so have  been  found,  that,  among  the  army, 
a  prejudice  against  the  Bourbons  had  sur- 
vived their  predilection  for  the  Republic, 
and  that  although  the  French  soldiers  might 
Bee  with  pleasure  a  crown  placed  on  the 
brow  of  their  favourite  general,  they  might 
be  unwilling  to  endure  the  restoration  of 
the  ancient  race,  against  whom  they  had 
long  borne  arms. 

All  these  objections  against  attempting 
to  recall  the  ancient  dynaisty,have  weight  in 
themselves,  and  may  readily  have  appeared 
insuperable  to  Buonaparte  ;  especially  con- 
sidering the  conclusion  to  be,  that  if  the 
Bourbons  were  found  ineligible,  the  crown 
of  France — with  a  more  extended  empire, 
and  more  unlimited  powers — was  in  that 
case  to  rest  with  Buonaparte  himself.  There 
is  no  doubt  that,  in  preferring  the  title  of 
the  Bourbons,  founded  on  right,  to  his  own, 
which  rested  on  force  and  opportunity  alone, 
Buonaparte  would  have  acted  a  much  more 
noble,  generous,  and  disinterested  part,  than 
in  availing  himself  of  circumstances  to  es- 
tablish his  own  power-,  nay,  that,  philoso- 
phically speaking,  such  a  choice  might  have 
been  wiser  and  happier.  But  in  the  ordina- 
ry mode  of  viewing  and  acting  in  this  world, 
tne  temptation  was  immense  ;  and  Buona- 
parte was  in  some  measure  unfettered  by  the 
circumstances  which  might  have  withheld 
some  of  his  contemporaries  from  snatch- 
ing at  the  crown  that  seemed  to  await  his 
grasp.  Whatever  were  the  rights  of  the 
Bourbons,  abstractedly  considered,  they 
were  not  of  a  kind  to  force  themselves  im- 
mediately upon  the  conscience  of  Buona- 
parte. He  had  not  entered  public  life,  was 
indeed  a  mere  boy,  when  the  general  voice  of 
France,  or  that  which  appeared  such,  drove 
the  ancient  race  from  the  throne  ;  he  had 
acted  during  all  his  life  hitherto  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  French  government  de  facto ; 
and  it  was  hard  to  require  of  him,  now  of 
a  sudden,  to  sacrifice  the  greatest  stake 
which  a  man  ever  played  for,  to  the  abstract 
right  of  the  king  dt  jure.  Candour  will 
therefore  allow,  that  though  some  spirits,  of 
aheroie  character,  might,  in  his  place,  have 
acted  otherwise,  yet  the  conduct  of  Buona- 
parte, in  availing  himself,  for  his  own  advan- 
tage, of  the  height  which  he  had  attained  by 
his  own  talents,  was  too  natural  a  course  of 
action  to  be  loaded  with  censure  by  any  one, 
who,  if  he  takes  the  trouble  to  consider  the 
extent  of  the  temptation,  must  acknowledge 
in  his  heart  the  difficulty  of  resisting  it. 

But  though  we  may  acknowledge  many 


excuses  for  the  ambition  which  induced 
Buonaparte  to  assume  the  principal  share  of 
the  new  government,  and  although  we  were 
even  to  allow  to  his  admirers  that  he  be- 
came First  Consul  purely  because  his  doing 
so  was  necessary  to  the  welfare  of  France, 
our  candour  can  carry  us  no  farther.  We 
cannot  for  an  instant  sanction  the  monstrous 
accumulation  of  authority  which  engrossed 
into  his  own  hands  all  the  powers  of  the 
state,  and  deprived  the  French  people,  from 
that  period,  of  the  least  pretence  to  liberty, 
or  power  of  protecting  themselves  from  tyr- 
anny. It  is  in  vain  to  urge,  that  they  had 
not  yet  learned  to  make  a  proper  use  of  the 
invaluable  privileges  of  which  he  deprived 
them — equally  in  vain  to  say,  that  they  con- 
sented to  resign  what  it  was  not  in  their 
power  to  defend.  It  is  a  poor  apology  for 
theft  that  the  person  plundered  knew  not 
the  value  of  the  gem  taken  from  him ;  a 
worse  excuse  for  robbery,  that  the  party  rob- 
bed was  disarmed  and  prostrate,  and  submit- 
ted without  resistance,  where  to  resist  would 
have  been  to  die.  In  choosing  to  be  the 
head  of  a  well-regulated  and  limited  monar- 
chy, Buonaparte  would  have  consulted  even 
his  own  interest  better,  than  by  preferring,  as 
he  did,  to  become  the  sole  animating  spirit 
of  a  monstrous  despotism.  The  comma- 
nication  of  common  privileges,  while  they 
united  discordant  factions,  would  have  fixed 
the  attention  of  all  on  the  head  of  the  gov- 
ernment, as  their  mutual  benefactor.  The 
constitutional  rights  which  he  had  reserved 
for  the  crown  would  have  been  respected, 
when  it  was  remembered  that  the  freedom 
of  the  people  had  been  put  in  a  rational 
form,  and  its  privileges  rendered  available 
by  his  liberality. 

Such  checks  upon  his  power  would  have 
been  as  beneficial  to  himself  as  to  his  sub- 
jects. If,  in  the  course  of  his  reign,  he  had 
met  constitutional  opposition  to  the  then 
immense  projects  of  conquest,  which  cost 
so  much  blood  and  devastation,  to  that  op- 
position he  would  have  been  as  much  in- 
debted, as  a  person  subject  to  fits  of  lunacy 
is  to  the  bonds  by  which,  when  under  the 
influence  of  his  malady,  he  is  restrained 
from  doing  mischief.  Buonaparte's  active 
spirit,  withheld  from  warlike  pursuits,  would 
have  been  exercised  by  the  internal  im- 
provement of  his  kingdom.  The  mode  in 
which  he  used  his  power  would  have  gilded 
over,  as  in  many  other  cases,  the  imperfect 
nature  of  his  title,  and  if  he  was  not,  in  ev- 
ery sense,  the  legitimate  heir  of  the  mon- 
archy, he  might  have  been  one  of  the  most 
meritorious  princes  that  ever  ascended  the 
throne.  Had  he  permitted  the  existence  of 
a  pow9r  expr*»ssive  of  the  national  opinion 
to  exist,  co-equal  with  and  restrictive  of  his 
own,  there  would  have  been  no  occupation 
of  Spain,  no  war  with  Russia,  no  impe- 
rial decrees  against  British  commerce. — 
The  people  who  first  felt  the  pressure  of 
these  violent  and  ruinous  measures,  would 
have  declined  to  submit  to  them  in  the  out- 
set. The  ultimate  consequence — the  over- 
throw, namely,  of  Napoleon  himself,  would 
not  have  taken  place,  and  he  might,  for 
aught  we  can  see^  have  died  on  the  throne 


330 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        IChap.  XXXVI. 


of  France,  and  bequeathed  it  to  his  posteri- 
ty, leaving  a  reputation  wiiich  could  only 
be  surpassed  in  lustre  by  that.of  an  individ- 
ual wiio  should  render  similar  advantages 
to  his  country,  yet  decline  the  gratification, 
in  any  degree,  of  his  personal  ambition. 

In  short,  it  must  always  be  written  down, 
as  Buonaparte's  error  as  well  as  guilt,  tliat 
misusing  the   power  which  the  18th  Bru- 


maire  threw  into  his  hands,  he  totally  de- 
stroyed tiie  liberty  of  France,  or,  we  would 
say,  more  properly,  the  chance  which  that 
country  had  of  :ittaining  a  free,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  a  settled  government.  He  might 
have  been  a  patriot  prince,  he  chose  to  be 
an  usurping  despot — he  might  have  played 
the  part  of  Washington,  he  preferred  that 
of  Cromwell.   • 


CHAP.  XXXVI. 

Proceedings  of  Buonaparte  in  order  to  consolidate  his  Power — His  great  success — 
Causes  that  led  to  it. — Cambaceres  and  Lebnin  chosen  Second  and  Third  Consuls. — 
Talleyrand  appointed  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  Fouche  Minister  of  Police — 
Their  Characters. —  Other  Ministers  nominated. —  Various  Changes  made,  in  order  to 
mark  the  Commencement  of  a  neto  Era. — Napoleon  addresses  a  Letter  personally  to 
the  King  of  England — Answered  by  Lord  Grenville. — Negotiation  for  Peace,  that 
followed,  speedily  broken  off. — Campaigns  in  Italy,  and  on  the  Rhine — Successes  of 
Moreau — Censured  by  Napoleon  for  Over-caution. —  The  Charge  considered. —  The 
Chief  Consul  resolves  to  bring  back,  in  Person,  V^ictory  to  the  French  Standards  in 
Italy — His  Measures  for  that  Purpose. 


The  structure  of  government  which  Buon- 
aparte had  selected  out  of  the  broken  out- 
lines of  the  plan  of  Sieyes,  being  not  only 
monarchical  but  despotic,  it  remained  that 
its  offices  should  be  tilled  v.ith  persons  fa- 
vourable to  the  new  order  of  things  ;  and  to 
this  the  attention  of  Buonaparte  was  espe- 
cially turned.  In  order  to  secure  the  se- 
lection of  the  official  individuals  to  himself, 
he  eluded  entirely  the  principle  by  which 
Sieyes  had  proposed  to  elaborate  his  nation- 
al representatives  out  of  the  various  signed 
lists  of  eligibility,  to  be  made  up  by  the 
three  classes  into  which  his  hierarchy  di- 
vided the  French  people.  Without  waiting 
for  these  lists  of  eligible  persons,  or  taking 
any  other  rule-  but  his  own  pleasure,  and 
that  of  his  councillors,  the  two  new  Con- 
suls, Buonaparte  named  sixty  senators  ;  the 
senators  named  an  hundred  tribunes,  and 
three  hundred  legislators  5  and  thus  the 
whole  bodies  of  the  state  were  filled  up, 
by  a  choice  emanating  from  the  executive 
government,  instead  of  being  vested,  more 
or  less  directly,  in  the  people. 

In  availing  himself  of  the  privileges 
which  he  had  usurped,  the  First  Consul  as 
we  must  now  call  him,  showed  a  modera- 
tion as  artful  as  it  was  conciliatory.  His 
object  was  to  avoid  the  odium  of  appearing 
to  hold  his  rank  by  his  military  character 
only.  He  desired,  on  the  contrary,  to  as- 
semble round  him  a  party,  in  which  the 
predominant  character  of  individuals,  what- 
ever it  had  hitherto  been,  was  to  be  merg- 
ed in  that  of  the  new  system  ;  as  the  stat- 
uary throws  into  the  furnace  broken  frag- 
ments of  bronze  of  every  various  descrip- 
tion, without  regarding  their  immediate  ap- 
pearance or  form,  his  purpose  being  to 
unite  them  by  fusion,  and  bestow  upon 
the  mass  the  new  shape  which  his  art  des- 
tines it  to  present. 

With  these  views.  Napoleon  said  to 
Sieyes,  who  reprobated  the  admission  of 
Foucli6  into  office  and  power,  "  We  are 
creating  a  new  era.  Of  the  past,  we  must 
forget   the   bad,   and    only   remember   the 


good.  Time,  habits  of  business,  and  expe- 
rience, have  formed  many  able  men,  and 
modified  many  characters."  These  words 
may  be  regarded  as  the  key-note  of  his 
whole  system.  Buonaparte  did  not  care 
what  men  had  been  formerly,  so  that  they 
were  now  disposed  to  become  that  which 
was  suitable  for  his  interest,  and  for  which 
he  was  willing  to  reward  them  liberally. 
The  former  conduct  of  persons  of  talent, 
whether  in  politics  or  morality,  was  of  no 
consequence,  providing  they  were  willing, 
now,  faithfully  to  further  and  adhere  to  the 
new  order  of  things.  This  prospect  of  im- 
munity for  the  past  and  reward  for  the  fu- 
ture, was  singularly  well  calculated  to  act 
upon  the  public  mind,  desirous  as  it  was 
of  repose,  and  upon  that  of  individiials, 
agitated  by  so  many  hopes  and  fears  as  the 
Revolution  had  set  afloat.  The  Cons  dar 
government  seemed  a  general  place  of 
refuge  and  sanctuary  to  persons  of  a' .  va- 
rious opinions,  and  in  all  various  p:  idica- 
ments.  It  was  only  required  of  them,  in 
return  for  the  safety  which  it  afforded,  that 
they  should  pay  homage  to  the  presiding 
deity. 

So  artfully  was  the  system  of  Buona- 
parte contrived,  that  each  of  the  numer- 
ous classes  of  Frenchmen  found  something 
in  it  congenial  to  his  habits,  his  feelings, 
or  his  circumstances,  providing  only  ne 
was  willing  to  sacrifice  to  it  the  essential 
part  of  his  political  principles.  To  the 
Royalist  it  restored  monarchical  forms,  a 
court  and  a  sovereign — but  he  must  ac- 
knowledge that  sovereign  in  Buonaparte. 
To  the  churchman,  it  opened  the  gates 
of  the  temples,  removed  the  tyranny  of 
the  persecuting  philosophers — promised  in 
course  of  time  a  national  cliurch — but  by 
the  altar  must  be  placed  the  image  of  Buo- 
naparte. The  Jacobin,  dyed  double  red  in 
murder  and  massacre,  was  welcome  to  safe- 
ty and  security  from  the  aristocratic  ven- 
geance which  he  had  so  lately  dreaded. 
The  regicide  was  guaranteed  against  the 
return    of   the    Bourbons — they   who   had 


Chap.  XXXVl.-]         LTFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


331 


profited  by  the  Revolution  as  purchasers  of 
national    domains,    were    insured    a jainst 
their  being  resumed.     But  it  was  under  the 
implied  condition,   that  not  a  word  was  to  I 
be   mentioned  by    those    ci-devant    demo-  } 
crats,  of  liberty   or  equality  :    the  princi-  j 
pies  for  which  forfeitures  had  been  made,  ! 
and  revolutionary   tribunals  erected,  were  | 
henceforth   never  to   be   named.      To   all 
these  parties,  as  to  others,  Buonaparte  held 
out  the  same  hopes  under  the  same  condi- 
tions.— "  All  these  things   will  I  give  you,  ' 
if  you   will  kneel   down  and  worship  me."  | 
Shortly  afterwards,  he  was  enabled  to  place 
before  those  to  whom  the  choice  was  sub- 
mitted, the  original  temptation  in  its  full 
extent — a  display  of  the   kingdoms  of  the 
earth,  over  which  he  otiered  to  extend  the 
empire  of  France,  providing  always  he  wa? 
himself    acknowledged   as   the    object    of 
general  obedience,  and  almost  adoration. 

The  system  of  Buonaparte,  as  it  combin- 
ed great  art  with  apparent  generosity  and 
liberality,  proved  eminently  successful 
among  the  people  of  France,  when  subjected 
to  the  semblance  of  a  popular  vote.  The 
national  spirit  was  exhausted  by  the  chang- 
es and  the  sufferings,  the  wars  and  the 
crimes,  of  so  many  years;  and  in  France, 
as  in  all  other  countries,  parties,  exhausted 
by  the  exertions  and  vicissitudes  of  civil 
war,  are  in  the  very  situation  where  milita- 
ry tyranny  becomes  the  next  crisis.  The 
rich  favoured  Buonaparte  for  the  sake  of 
protection, — the  poor  for  that  of  relief, — 
the  emigrants,  in  many  cases,  because  they 
desired  to  return  to  France, — the  men  of 
the  Revolution,  because  they  were  afraid  of 
being  banished  from  it ; — the  sanguine  and 
courageous  crowded  round  his  standard  in 
hope  of  victory,-  the  fimid  cowered  be- 
hind it  in  the  desire  of  safety.  Add  to  these 
the  vast  multitude  who  follow  the  opinion 
of  others,  and  take  the  road  which  lies  most 
obvious,  and  is  most  trodden,  and  it,  is  no 
wonder  that  the  I8th  Brumaire,and  its  con- 
sequences, received  the  general  sanction  of 
the  people.  The  constitution  of  the  year 
Eight,  or  Consular  Government,  was  ap- 

firoved  by  the  suffrages  of  nearly  four  mil- 
ions  of  citizens, — a  more  general  approba- 
tion than  any  preceding  system   had   been 
received  with.     The  vote  was  doubtless   a 
farce  in  itself,  considering  how  many  con-  [ 
stitutions  had  been   adopted  and  sworn   to  | 
within  so  short  a  space  ;  but  still  the  num-  I 
bers  who  expressed  assent,  more  than  doub-  j 
ling  those  votes  which   were  obtained  by 
the  constitutions  of  1792  and  of  the  year  ' 
Three,  mdicate  the  superior  popularity  of  ' 
Buonaparte's  system.  '         ! 

To  the  four  millions  who  expressly  de-  , 
clared  their  adherence  to  the  new  Consu-  ! 
lar  constitution,  must  be  added  the  m;mv 
nundreds  of  thousands  and  millions  more, 
who  were  either  totally   indifferent   upon  ' 
the  form  of  government,  providing  thev  en- 
joyed  peace   and   protection   under   it.   or  ' 
who,  though  abstractedly   preferring  other  ' 
rulers,  were  practically  disposed  to  submit 
to  the  party  in  possession  of  the  power. 

Such  and  so  extended  being  the  princi-  ' 
pies    on   which    Buonaparte   selected   the  ' 


members  of  his  government,  he  manifested, 
in  choosing  individuals,  that  wonderful  pen- 
etration, by  which,  more  perhaps  than  any 
man  who  ever  lived,  he  was  enabled  at 
oncfc  to  discover  the  person  most  capaole 
of  serving  him,  and  the  means  of  securing 
his  attachment.  Former  crimes  or  errors 
made  no  cause  of  exclusion  ;  and  in  several 
cases  the  alliance  between  the  First  Con- 
sul and  his  ministers  might  have  been  com- 
pared to  the  marriages  between  the  settlers 
on  the  Spanish  mainland,  and  the  unhappy 
females,  the  refuse  of  great  cities,  sent  out 
to  recruit  the  colony. — '•  I  ask  thoe  not," 
said  the  buccaneer  to  the  wife  he  had  se- 
lected from  the  cargo  of  vice,  •'  what  haa 
been  thy  former  conduct ;  but,  henceforth, 
see  thou  continue  faithful  to  me,  or  this," 
striking  his  liand  on  his  musket,  "  shadl 
punish  thy  want  of  fidelity." 

For  second  and  third  Consuls,  Buona- 
parte chose  Cambaceres,  a  lawyer,  and  a 
member  of  the  moderate  party,  with  Le- 
brun,  who  had  formerly  co-operated  with 
the  Chancellor  Maupeou.  The  former  was 
employed  by  the  Chief  Consul  as  his  orgaa 
of  communication  with  the  Revolutionists, 
while  Lebrun  rendered  him  the  same  ser 
vice  with  the  Royal  party  ;  and  although, 
as  Madame  de  Stael  observes,  they  preach- 
ed very  different  sermons  on  the  same 
texts,  yet  they  were  both  eminently  suc- 
cessful in  detaching  from  their  original  fac- 
tions many  of  either  class,  and  uniting  them 
with  this  third,  or  government  party,  which 
was  thus  composed  of  deserters  from  both. 
The  last  soon  became  so  numerous,  that 
Buonaparte  was  enabled  to  dispense  with 
the  bascule,  or  trimming  system,  by  which 
alone  his  predecessors,  the  Directors,  had 
been  enabled  to  support  their  power. 

In  the  ministrj',  Buonaparte  acted  upon 
the  same  principle,  selecting  and  making 
his  own  the  men  whose  talents  were  most 
distinguished,  without  reference  to  their 
former  conduct.  Two  were  particularly 
distinguished,  as  men  of  the  most  eminent 
talents,  and  extensive  experience.  These 
were  Talleyrand  and  Fouche.  The  for- 
mer, noble  by  birth,  and  Bishop  of  Autun, 
notwithstanding  his  high  rank  in  church 
and  state,  had  been  deeply  engaged  in  the 
Revolution.  He  had  been  placed  on  the 
list  of  emigrants,  from  which  his  name  was 
eras«d  on  the  establishment  of  the  Directo- 
rial government,  under  which  he  became 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs.  He  resigned 
that  office  in  the  summer  preceding  18th 
Brumaire  ;  and  Buonaparte,  finding  him  at 
variance  with  the  Directory,  readily  passed 
over  some  personal  grounds  of  complaint 
which  he  had  against  him,  and  enlisted  in 
his  service  a  supple  and  dexterous  politi- 
cian, and  an  experienced  minister;  fond,  it 
is  said,  of  pleasure,  not  insensible  to  views 
of  self-interest,  nor  too  closely  fettered  by 
principle,  but  perhaps  unequalled  in  inge- 
nuity, Talleyrand  was  replaced  in  the  sit- 
uation of  minister  for  foreign  affairs,  after 
a  short  interval,  assigned  for  the  purpose 
of  suffering  the  public  to  forget  his  promi- 
nent share  in  the  scandalous  treaty  with  the 
.American  commissioners,  and  continued  for 


33-2 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXVJ. 


a  long  tract  of  time  one  of  the  closest  shar- 
ers of  Buonaparte's  councils. 

If  the  character  of  Talleyrand  bore  no 
etrong  traces  of  public  virtue  or  inflexible 
morality,  that  of  Fouche  was  marked  with 
8till  darker  shades.  He  had  been  dipt  in 
Gomc  of  the  worst  transactions  of  the  Reign 
of  Terror,  and  his  name  is  found  among  the 
agents  of  the  dreadful  crimes  of  that  unhap- 
py period.  In  the  days  of  the  Directory, 
he  is  stated  to  have  profited  by  the  univer- 
sal peculation  which  was  then  practised, 
and  to  have  amassed  large  sums  by  shares 
in  contracts  and  brokerage  in  the  public 
funds.  To  atone  for  the  imperfections  of 
a  character  stained  with  perfidy,  venality, 
and  indifference  to  human  suflering,  Fou- 
che brought  to  Buonaparte's  service  a  de- 
votion, never  like  to  fail  the  First  Consul 
unless  his  fortunes  should  happen  to  change, 
and  a  perfect  experience  with  all  the  weap- 
ons of  revolutionary  war,  and  knowledge  of 
those  who  were  best  able  to  wield  them. 
He  had  managed  under  Barras's  administra- 
tion the  department  of  police  ;  and,  in  the 
course  of  his  agency,  had  become  better 
acquainted  perhaps  than  any  man  in  France 
with  all  the  various  parties  in  that  distract- 
ed country,  the  points  which  they  were  de- 
sirous of  reaching,  the  modes  by  which  they 
hoped  to  attain  them,  the  character  of  their 
individual  leaders,  and  the  means  to  gain 
them  over  or  to  intimidate  them.  Formi- 
dable by  his  extensive  knowledge  of  the 
revolutionary  springs,  and  the  address  with 
which  he  could  either  put  them  into  mo- 
tion, or  prevent  them  from  operating,  Fou- 
che,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  displayed 
a  species  of  wisdom  which  came  in  place 
of  morality  and  benevolence. 

Loving  wealth  and  power,  he  was  neither 
a  man  of  ardent  passions,  nor  of  a  vengeful 
disposition  ;  and  though  there  was  no  scru- 
ple in  his  nature  to  withhold  him  from  be- 
coming ail  agent  in  the  great  crimes  which 
Btate  policy,  under  an  arbitrary  government, 
must  often  require,  yet  he  had  a  prudential 
and  constitutional  aversion  to  unnecessary 
evil,  and  was  always  wont  to  characterize  his 
own  principle  of  action,  by  saying,  that  he  did 
as  little  harm  as  he  possioly  could.  In  his 
mysterious  and  terrible  office  of  head  of  the 
police,  he  had  often  means  of  granting  fa- 
vours, or  interposing  lenity  in  behalf  of  in- 
dividuals, of  which  he  gained  the  full  cred- 
it, while  the  harsh  measures  of  which  he 
was  the  agent,  were  set  down  to  the  neces- 
sity of  his  situation.  By  adhering  to  these 
principles  of  moderation,  he  established  for 
himself  at  length  a  character  totally  incon- 
sistent with  that  belonging  to  a  member  of 
the  revolutionary  committee,  and  resem- 
bling rather  that  of  a  timid  but  well-disposed 
servant,  who,  in  executing  his  master's  com- 
mands, is  desirous  to  mitigate  as  much  as 
possible  their  effect  on  individuals.  It  is, 
UDon  the  whole,  no  wonder,  that  although 
Sieyes  objected  to  Fouche,  from  his  want 
of  principle,  and  Talleyrand  was  averse  to 
him  from  jealousy,  interference,  and  per- 
sonal enmity.  Napoleon  chose,  neverthe- 
ess,  to  retain  in  the  confidential  situation 
of  minister  of  police,  the  person  by  whom 


that  formidable  office  had  been  first  placed 
on  an  effectual  footing. 

Of  the  other  ministers,  it  is  not  necessary 
to  speak  in  detail.  Cambaceres  retained 
the  situation  of  Minister  of  Justice,  for 
which  lie  was  well  qualified  5  and  the  cel- 
ebrated malliematician,  La  Place,  was  pre- 
ferred to  that  of  the  Interior,  for  which  he 
was  not,  according  to  Buonaparte's  report, 
qualified  at  all.  Berthier,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen,  filled  the  war  department,  and 
shortly  afterwards  Carnot ;  and  Gaudin  ad- 
ministered the  finances  with  credit  to  him- 
self. F'orfait,  a  naval  architect  of  emi- 
nence, replaced  Bourdon  in  the  helpless 
and  hopeless  department  of  the  French  Ad- 
miralty. 

A  new  constitution  having  been  thus 
formed,  and  the  various  branches  of  duty 
distributed  with  much  address  among  those 
best  capable  of  discharging  them,  other 
changes  were  at  the  same  time  made, 
which  were  designed  to  mark  that  a  new 
era  was  commenced,  in  which  all  former 
prejudices  were  to  be  abandoned  and  done 
away. 

We  have  noticed  that  one  of  the  first 
acts  of  the  Provisional  Government  had 
been  to  new-modify  the  national  oath,  and 
generalize  its  terms,  so  that  they  should  be 
no  longer  confined  to  the  constitution  of  the 
year  Three,  but  should  appJy  to  that  which 
was  about  to  be  framed,  or  to  any  other 
which  might  be  produced  by  the  same  au- 
thority. Two  subsequent  alterations  in  the 
constitution,  which  passed  without  much 
notice,  so  much  was  the  revolutionary  or 
republican  spirit  abated,  tended  to  show 
that  farther  changes  were  impending,  and 
that  the  Consular  Republic  was  speedily  to 
adopt  the  name,  as  it  already  had  the  es- 
sence, of  a  monarchy.  It  was  scarce  three 
months  since  the  President  of  the  Directo- 
ry had  said  to  the  people,  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  taking  of  the  Bastille, — "  Royalty 
shall  never  raise  its  head  again.  We  shall 
no  more  behold  individuals  boasting  a  title 
from  Heaven,  to  oppress  the  earth  with 
more  ease  and  security,  and  who  consid- 
ered France  as  their  private  patrimony, 
Frenchmen  as  their  subjects,  and  the  laws 
as  the  expression  of  their  good  will  and 
pleasure."  Yet  now,  in  contradiction  to 
this  sounding  declamation,  the  national 
oath,  expressing  hatred  to  royalty,  was  an- 
nulled, under  the  pretext  that  the  Republic, 
being  universally  acknowledged,  had  no  oc- 
casion for  the  guard  of  such  disclamations. 
In  like  manner,  the  public  observance  of 
the  day  on  which  Louis  XVI.  had  suffered 
decapitation,  was  formally  abolished.  Buo- 
naparte, declining  to  pass  a  judgment  on  the 
action  as  just,  politic,  or  useful,  pronounc- 
ed that,  in  any  event,  it  could  only  be  re- 
garded as  a  national  calamity,  and  was 
therefore  in  a  moral,  as  well  as  a  political 
sense,  an  unfit  epoch  for  festive  celebra- 
tion. An  expression  of  tlie  First  Consul  to 
Sieyes  was  also  current  at  the  same  time, 
which,  although  Buonaparte  may  not  have 
used  it,  has  been  generally  supposed  to  ex- 
press his  sentiments.  Sieyes  had  spoken 
of  Louis  under  the   established  phrase  of 


Chap.  XXXVL]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


333 


the  Tyrant.  "  He  was  no  tyrant,"  Buona- 
parte replied  ;  "  had  he  been  such,  I  should 
nave  been  a  subaltern  officer  of  artillery, 
and  you.  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  would  have  been 
etill  saying  mass." 

A  third  sign  of  approaching  change,  or 
rather  of  the  approaching  return  to  the  an- 
cient system  of  government  under  a  differ- 
ent|chief,  was  the  removal  of  thcjFirst  Con- 
sul from  the  apartments  in  the  Luxembourg 
Palace,  occupied  by  the  Directors,  to  the 
royal  residence  of  the  Tuilleries.  Madame 
de  Stael  beheld  the  entrance  oftliis  fortu- 
nate soldier  into  the  princely  residence  of 
the  Bourbons.  He  was  already  surrounded 
by  a  vassal  crowd,  eager  to  pay  him  the 
homage  which  the  inhabitants  of  tliose 
splendid  halls  had  so  long  claimed  as  their 
due,  that  it  seemed  to  be  consistent  with 
the  place,  and  to  become  the  right  of  this 
new  inhabitant.  The  doors  were  thrown 
open  with  a  bustle  and  violence,  expressive 
Ot  the  importance  of  the  occasion.  But  the 
hero  of  the  scene,  in  ascending  the  magnifi- 
cent staircase,  up  which  a  throng  of  cour- 
tiers followed  him,  seemed  totally  indiffer- 
ent to  all  around,  his  features  bearing  only 
a  general  expression  of  indifference  to 
events,  and  contempt  for  mankind. 

The  first  measures  of  Buonaparte's  new 
government,  and  the  exjiectation  attached 
to  his  name,  had  already  gone  some  length 
in  restoring  domestic  quiet ;  but  he  was 
well  aware  that  much  more  must  be  done 
to  render  that  quiet  permanent ;  that  the 
external  relations  of  France  with  Europe 
raust  be  attended  to  without  delay  ;  and  that 
the  French  expected  from  him  either  the 
conclusion  of  an  honourable  peace,  or  the 
restoration  of  victory  to  their  national  ban- 
ners. It  was  necessary,  too,  that  advances 
towards  peace  should  in  the  first  place  be. 
made,  in  order,  if  they  were  unsuccessful, 
that  a  national  spirit  should  be  excited, 
which  might  reconcile  the  French  to  the 
renewal  of  the  war  with  fresh  energy. 

Hitherto,  in  diplomacy,  it  had  been  usual 
to  sound  the  way  for  opening  treaties  of 
peace  by  obscure  and  almost  unaccredited 
agents,  in  order  that  the  party  willing  to 
make  propositions  might  not  subject  them- 
selves to  a  haughty  and  insulting  answer, 
or  have  their  desire  of  peace  interpreted 
as  a  confession  of  weakness.  Buonaparte 
went  into  the  opposite  extreme,  and  ad- 
dressed the  King  of  England  in  a  personal 
epistle.  This  letter,  like  that  to  the  Arch- 
duke Charles,  during  the  campaign  of  1797, 
intimates  Buonaparte's  affectation  of  superi- 
ority to  the  usual  forms  of  diplomacy,  and 
his  pretence  to  a  character  determined  to 
emancipate  itself  from  rules  only  designed 
for  mere  ordinary  men.  But  the  manner  of 
the  address  was  in  bad  taste,  and  ill  calcu- 
lated to  obtain  credit  for  his  being  sincere 
in  the  proposal  of  peace.  He  was  bound 
to  know  so  much  of  the  constitutional  au- 
thority of  the  monarch  whom  he  addressed, 
as  to  be  aware  that  George  III.  would  not, 
and  could  not,  contract  any  treaty  personal- 
ly, but  must  act  by  the  advice  of  those  min- 
isters whose  responsibility  was  his  guaran- 
tee to  the  nation  at  large.     The  terms  of 


the  letter  set  forth,  as  usual,  the  blessings 
of  peace,  and  urged  the  propriety  of  its  be- 
ing restored  ;  propositions  which  could  not 
admit  of  dispute  in  the  abstract,  but  which 
admit  much  discussion  when  coupled  with 
unreasonable  or  inadmissible  conditions. 

The  answer  transmitted  by  Lord  Gren- 
ville,  in  the  forms  of  diplomacy,  to  the  Min- 
ister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  dwelt  on  the  ag- 
gressions of  France,  declared  that  the  res- 
toration of  the  Bourbons  would  have  been 
the  best  security  for  their  sincerity,  but  dis- 
avowed all  right  to  dictate  to  France  in  her 
internal  concerns.  Some  advances  were 
made  to  a  specific  treaty  ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  England  might  at  that  period  have  ob- 
tained the  same  or  better  terms  than  she 
afterwards  got  by  the  treaty  of  Amiens.  It 
may  be  added,  that  the  moderate  principles 
expressed  by  the  Consular  government, 
might,  in  the  infancy  of  his  power,  and  in  a 
moment  of  considerable  doubt,  have  induc- 
ed Buonaparte  to  make  sacrifices,  to  which, 
triumphant  and  established,  he  would  not 
condescend.  But  the  possession  of  Egypt, 
which  Buonaparte  must  have  insisted  on, 
were  it  only  for  his  own  reputation,  was 
likely  to  be  an  insuperable  difficulty.  The 
conjuncture  also  appeared  to  the  English 
ministers  propitious  for  carrying  on  the  war. 
Italy  had  been  recovered,  and  the  Austrian 
army,  to  the  number  of  140,000,  were  men- 
acing Savoy,  and  mustering  on  the  Rhine. 
Buonaparte,  in  the  check  received  before 
Acre,  liad  been  found  not  absolutely  invin- 
cible. The  exploits  of  Suwarrow  over  the 
French  were  recent,  and  had  been  decisive. 
The  state  of  the  interior  of  France  was  well 
known  ;  and  it  was  conceived,  that  though 
this  successful  general  had  climbed  into  the 
seat  of  supreme  power  which  he  found  un- 
occupied, yet  tiiat  two  [strong  parties,  of 
which  the  Royalists  objected  to  his  person, 
the  Republicans  to  his  form  of  government, 
could  not  fail,  the  one  or  other,  to  deprive 
him  of  his  influence. 

The  treaty  was  finally  broken  off,  on  the 
score  that  there  was  great  reason  to  doubt 
Buonaparte's  sincerity  ;  and,  supposing  that 
were  granted,  there  was  at  least  equal  room 
to  doubt  the  stability  of  a  power  so  hastily 
acknowledged,  and  seeming  to  contain  in 
itself  the  principles  of  decay.  There  may 
be  a  difference  of  opinion  in  regard  to  Buo- 
naparte's sincerity  in  the  negotiation,  but 
there  can  be  none  as  to  the  reality  of  his 
joy  at  its  being  defeated.  The  voice  which 
summoned  him  to  war  was  that  which 
sounded  sweetest  in  his  ears,  since  it  was 
always  followed  by  exertion  and  by  victory. 
He  had  been  personally  offended,  too,  by 
the  allusion  to  the  legitimate  rights  of  the 
Bourbons,  and  indulged  his  resentment  by 
pasquinades  in  the  Moniteur.  A  supposed 
letter  from  the  last  descendant  of  the  Stuart 
family  appeared  there,  congratulating  the 
King  of  Britain  on  his  acceding  to  the  doc- 
trine of  legitimacy,  and  summoning  him  to 
make  good  his  principles,  by  an  abdication 
of-his  crown  in  favour  of  the  lineal  heir. 

The  external  situation  of  France  had,  U 
we  before  remarked,  been  considerably  im- 
proved by  the  consequences  of  the  battle 


334 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       iChap.  XXX  VI. 


of  Zurich,  and  the  victories  of  Moreau. 
But  the  Republic  derived  yet  greater  ad- 
Tantages  from  the  breach  between  the  Em- 
perors ol' Austria  and  Russsia.  Paul,  nat- 
urally of  an  uncertain  temper,  and  offended 
by  the  management  of  the  last  campaign,  in 
which  Korsakow  had  been  defeated,  ami 
Suwarrow  checked,  in  consequence  of  tlicir 
being  unsupported  by  the  Austrian  army,  had 
withdrawn  his  troops,  so  distinguished  for 
their  own  bravery  as  well  as  for  tlie  talents 
of  their  leader,  from  the  seat  of  war.  But 
the  Austrlans,  possessing  a  firmness  of  char- 
acv.  r  undismayed  by  defeat,  and  encourag- 
ed by  the  late  success  of  their  arms  under 
Uie  veteran  Melas,  had  made  such  gigantic 
exertions  as  to  counterbalance  the  loss  of 
their  Russian  confederates. 

Their  principal  force  was  in  Italy,  and 
it  was  on  the  Italian  frontier  that  they  med- 
itated a  grand  effort,  by  which,  supported 
by  the  British  fleet,  they  proposed  to  re- 
duce Genoa,  and  penetrate  across  the  Var 
into  Provence,  where  existed  a  strong  body 
of  Royalists  ready  to  take  arms,  under  the 
command  of  General  Willot,  an  emigrant 
officer.  It  was  said  the  celebrated  Piche- 
gru,  who,  escaped  from  Guiana,  had  taken 
refuge  in  England,  was  also  with  this  army, 
and  was  proposed  as  a  chief  leader  of  the 
expected  insurrection. 

To  execute  this  plan,  Melas  was  placed 
at  the  head  of  an  army  of  140,000  men. 
This  army  was  quartered  for  the  winter  in 
the  plains  of  Piedmont,  and  waited  but  the 
approach  of  spring  to  commence  opera- 
lions. 

Opposed  to  them,  and  occupying  the 
country  betwixt  Genoa  and  the  Var,  lay  a 
I'rench  army  of  40.000  men  ;  the  relics  of 
those  who  had  been  repeatedly  defeated  in 
Italy  by  Suwarrow.  Tliey  were  quartered 
in  a  poor  country,  and  the  English  squadron, 
which  blockaded  the  coast,  was  vigilant  in 
preventing  any  supplies  from  being  sent 
to  them.  Distress  was  therefore  consider- 
able, and  the  troops  were  in  proportion  dis- 
pirited and  disorganized.  Whole  corps 
abandoned  their  position,  contrary  to  or- 
ders ;  and  with  drums  beating,  and  colours 
flying,  returned  into  France.  A  proclama- 
tion from  Napoleon  was  almost  alone  suffi- 
cient to  remedy  these  disorders.  He  called 
ou  the  soldiers,  and  particularly  those  corps 
who  had  formerly  distinguished  themselves 
underhis  command  in  his  Italian  campaigns, 
to  remember  tlie  confidence  he  had  once 
placed  in  them.  The  scattered  troops  re- 
turned to  their  duty,  as  war-horses  when 
dispersed  are  said  to  rally  and  form  ranks  at 
the  mere  sound  of  the  trumpet.  Masscna, 
an  •officer,  eminent  for  his  acquaintance 
with  the  mode  of  carrying  on  war  in  a  moun- 
tainous country,  full  of  passes  and  strong 
positions,  was  intrusted  with  the  command 
of  the  Italian  army,  which  Buonaparte  re- 
solved to  support  in  person  with  the  army 
of  reserve 

The  French  army  upon  the  Rhine  pos- 
sessed as  great  a  superiority  over  the  .\us- 
trians,  as  Melas,  on  the  Italian  frontier,  en- 
joyed over  Massena.  Moreau  was  placed 
in  the  command  of  a  large  army,  augment- 1 


ed  by  a  strong  detachment  from  that  of 
(ieneral  Bruno,  now  no  longer  necessary 
fur  the  protection  of  Holland,  and  by  the 
army  of  Helvetia,  wliicli,  after  the  defeat  of 
Korsakow,  was  not  farther  required  for  the 
defence  of  .Switzerland.  In  bestowing  this 
great  charye  on  Moreau,  the  First  Consul 
showed  liinisell'  superior  to  the  jealousy 
which  might  have  dissuaded  meaner  minds 
from  iiitrustijg  a  rival,  whose  military  skill 
w;>^  often  compared  with  his  own,  with 
sui.li  an  opportunity  of  distinguishing  him- 
sell'.  But  Buonaparte,  in  this  and  other 
cases,  preferred  the  employing  and  profiting 
by  the  public  service  of"  men  of  talents,  and 
especially  men  of  military  eminence,  to 
any  risk  which  he  could  run  from  their  ri- 
valry. Ho  had  tlie  just  confidence  in  his 
own  powers, never  to  doubt  his  supremacy, 
and  trusted  to  tlie  influence  of  discipline, 
and  the  love  of  their  profession,  which  in- 
duces generals  to  accept  of  command  even 
under  administrations  of  which  they  disap- 
prove. In  this  manner  he  rendered  depend- 
ent upon  himself  even  those  officers,  who, 
averse  to  the  Consular  form  of  government, 
inclined  to  republican  principles.  Such 
were  Massena,  Brune,  Jourdan,  Lecourbe, 
and  Champiounet.  He  took  care  at  tha 
same  time,  by  changing  the  commands  in- 
trusted to  them,  to  break  off  all  combina- 
tions or  connexions  which  they  might  have 
formed  for  a  new  alteration  of  the  govern- 
ment. 

General  Moreau  was  much  superior  in 
numbers  to  Kray,  the  Austrian  who  com- 
manded on  the  Rhine,  and  received  orders 
to  resume  the  offensive.  He  was  cautioua 
in  his  tactics,  though  a  most  excellent  offi- 
cer, and  was  startled  at  the  plan  sent  him 
by  Buonaparte,  which  directed  him  to  cross 
the  Rhine  at  Schaff  hausen,  and,  marching 
on  Ulm  with  his  whole  force,  place  himself 
in  the  rear  of  the  greater  part  of  the  Aus- 
trian army.  This  was  one  of  those  schemes, 
fraught  with  great  victories  or  great  revers- 
es, which  Buonaparte  delighted  to  form, 
and  which  often  requiring  much  sacrifice 
of  men,  occasioned  his  being  called  by 
those  who  loved  him  not,  a  general  at  the 
rate  of  ten  thousand  men  per  day.  Such 
enterprises  resemble  desperate  passes  in 
fencing,  and  must  be  executed  with  the 
same  decisive  resolution  with  which  they 
are  formed.  Few  even  of  Buonaparte's 
best  generals  could  be  trusted  with  the 
execution  of  his  master-strokes  in  tactics, 
unless  under  his  own  immediate  superin- 
tendence. 

Moreau  invaded  Germany  on  a  more 
modilied  plan  ;  and  a  series  of  marches, 
counter-marches,  and  desperate  battles  en- 
sued, in  which  General  Kray,  admirably 
supported  by  the  Archduke  Ferdinand, 
made  a  gallant  defence  against  superior 
numbers. 

In  Buonaparte's  account  of  this  campaign 
he  blames  Moreau  for  hesitation  and  timid- 
ity in  following  up  the  advantages  which  he 
obtained.  Yet  to  a  less  severe,  perhaps  to 
a  more  impartial  judge,  Moreau's  success 
might  seem  satisfactory,  since,  crossing  the 
Rhine  in  the  end  of  April,  he  had  his  head- 


Chap.  XXX  VI.^         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


335 


quarters  at  Augsburg  upon  the  15th  July, 
ready  either  to  co-operate  with  the  Italian 
army,  or  to  march  into  the  heart  of  the 
AuBtrian  territory.  Nor  can  it  be  denied 
that,  during  this  whole  campaign,  Moreau 
kept  in  view,  as  a  principal  object,  the  pro- 
tecting the  operations  of  Buonaparte  in  It- 
aly, and  saving  that  chief,  in  his  dauntless 
and  desperate  invasion  of  the  Milanese  ter- 
ritory, from  the  danger  which  might  have 
ensued,  had  Kray  found  an  opportunity  of 
opening  a  communication  with  tlie  Austrian 
army  in  Italy,  and  despatching  troops  to  its 
support. 

It  may  be  remarked  of  these  two  great 
generals,  that,  as  enterprise  was  the  char- 
acteristic of  Buonaparte's  movements,  pru- 
dence was  that  of  Moreau's  ;  and  it  is  not 
unusual,  even  when  there  occur  no  other 
motives  for  rivals  undervaluing  each  other, 
that  the  enterprising  judge  the  prudent  to 
be  timid,  and  the  prudent  account  the  en- 
terprising rash. 

It  is  not  ours  to  decide  upon  professional 
questions  between  men  of  such  superior 
talents  ;  and,  having  barely  alluded  to  the 
topic,  we  leave  Moreau  at  x\ugsburg,  where 
he  finality  concluded  an  armistice  with  Gen- 
eral Kray,  as  a  consequence  of  that  which 
Buonaparte  had  established  in  Italy  after  the 
battle  of  Marengo.  Thus  much,  therefore, 
is  duo  in  justice  to  Moreau.  His  campaign 
was,  on  the  whole,  crowned  in  its  results 
with  distinguished  success.  And  when  it 
is  considered,  that  he  was  to  manoeuvre 
both  with  reference  to  the  safety  of  the 
First  Consul's  operations  and  his  own,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  Buonaparte  would, 
at  the  lime,  have  thanked  him  for  venturing 
on  more  hazardous  measures  ;  the  result  of 
which  might  have  been  either  to  obtain 
more  brilliant  victory  for  the  army  of  the 
Rhine,  in  the  event  of  success,  or,  should 
they  have  miscarried,  to  have  ensured  the 
ruin  of  the  army  of  Italy,  as  well  as  of  that 
commanded  by  Moreau  himself.  There 
must  have  been  a  wide  difference  beiween 
the  part  which  Moreau  ought  to  act  as  sub- 
sidiary to  Buonaparte,  (to  whom  it  will  pres- 
ently be  seen  he  despatched  a  reinforce- 
ment of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand 
men,)  and  that  which  Buonaparte,  in  obe- 
dience to  his  daring  genius,  might  have 
himself  thought  it  right  to  perform.  The 
Commander-in-chief  may  venture  much 
on  his  own  responsibility,  which  must  not 
be  hazarded  by  a  subordinate  general, 
whose  motions  ought  to  be  regulated  upon 
the  general  plan  of  the  campaign. 

We  return  to  the  operations  of  Napoleon 
during  one  of  the  most  important  campaigns 
of  his  life,  and  in  which  he  added — if  that 
were  still  possible — to  the  high  military 
reputation  he  had  acquired. 

In  committing  the  charge  of  the  cam- 
paign upon  the  Rhine  to  Moreau,  the  First 
Consul  had /Reserved  for  himself  the  task  of 
bringing  back  victory  to  the  French  stand- 
ards, on  tha  fields  in  which  he  won  his  ear- 
liest laurels.  His  plan  of  victory  again  in- 
cluded a  passage  of  the  Alps,  as  boldly  and 
unexpectedly  as  in  1795,  but  in  a  different 
direction.    That  earlier  period  had  this  re- 


semblance to  the  present,  that  on  both  oc- 
casions, the  Austrians  menaced  Genoa; 
but  in  1800,  it  was  only  from  the  Italian 
frontier  and  the  Col  de  Tende,  whereas,  in 
1795,  the  enemy  were  in  possession  of  the 
mountains  of  Savoy  above  Genoa.  Swit- 
zerland too,  formerly  neutral,  and  allowing 
no  passage  for  armies,  was  now  as  open  to 
the  march  of  French  troops  as  any  of  their 
own  provinces,  and  of  this  Buonaparte  de- 
termined to  avail  himself.  He  was  aware 
of  the  Austrian  plan  of  taking  Genoa  and 
entering  Provence  ;  and  he  formed  the  dar- 
ing resolution  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  army  of  reserve,  surmount  the  line  of 
the  Alps,  even  where  they  are  most  diffi 
cult  of  access,  and,  descending  into  Italy, 
place  himself  in  the  rear  of  the  Austrian 
army,  interrupt  their  communications,  car- 
ry off  their  magazines,  parks,  and  hospitals, 
coop  them  up  betwixt  his  own  army  and 
that  of  Massena,  which  was  in  their  front, 
and  compel  them  to  battle,  in  a  situation 
where  defeat  must  be  destruction.  But  to 
accomplish  this  daring  movement,  it  was 
necessary  to  march  a  whole  army  over  the 
highest  chain  of  mountains  in  Europe,  by 
roads  which  afford  but  a  dangerous  pas- 
sage to  the  solitary  traveller,  and  through 
passes  where  one  man  can  do  more  to  de- 
fend, than  ten  to  force  their  way.  Artille- 
ry was  to  be  carried  through  sheep-paths 
and  over  precipices  impracticable  to  wheel 
carriages ;  ammunition  and  baggage  were 
to  he  transported  at  the  same  disadvantages  ; 
and  provisions  were  to  be  conveyed  through 
a  country  poor  in  itself,  and  inhabited  by  a 
nation  wliicli  had  every  cause  to  be  hostile 
to  Franco,  and  might  therefore  be  expected 
prompt  to  avail  themselves  of  any  opportu- 
nity which  should  occur  of  revenging  them- 
selves for  her  late  aggressions. 

The  strictest  secrecy  was  necessary,  to 
procure  even  the  opportunity  of  attempting 
this  audacious  plan  of  operations ;  and  to 
ensure  this  secrecy,  Buonaparte  had  re- 
course to  a  singular  mode  of  deceiving  the 
enemy.  It  was  made  as  public  as  possible, 
by  orders,  decrees,  proclamations,  and  the 
like,  that  the  First  Consul  was  to  place 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  army  of  reserve, 
and  that  it  was  to  assemble  at  Dijon.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  numerous  staff  was  sent  to  that 
place,  and  much  apparent  bustle  took  place 
in  assembling  six  or  seven  thousand  men 
tliere,  with  great  pomp  and  fracas.  These, 
as  the  spies  of  Austria  truly  reported  to 
their  employers,  were  either  conscripts,  or 
veterans  unfit  lor  service  ;  and  caricatures 
were  published  of  the  First  Consul  review- 
ing troops  composed  of  children  and  disa- 
bled soldiers,  which  was  ironically  termed 
his  army  of  reserve.  When  an  army  so 
composed  was  reviewed  by  the  First  Con- 
sul himself  with  great  ceremony,  it  im- 
pressed a  general  belief  that  Buonaparte  was 
only  endeavouring,  by  making  a  show  of 
force,  to  divert  the  Austrians  from  their  de- 
sign upon  Genoa,  and  thus  his  real  purpose 
was  effectually  concealed.  Bulletins,  too, 
were  privately  circulated  by  the  agents  of 
police,  as  if  scattered  by  the  Royalists,  in 
which  specious  arguments  were  used  to 


336 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAl  ARTE.       iChap.  XXXVIL 


prove  that  the  French  army  of  reserve  nei- 
ther did  nor  could  exist — and  these  also 
were  designed  to  withdraw  attention  from 
the  various  points  on  which  it  was  at  tlie 
very  moment  collecting. 


state  of  Paris  permitted  several  regiments 
to  be  detached  from  the  capital.  New  lev- 
ies were  made  with  the  utmost  celerity ; 
and  the  divisions  of  the  army  of  reserve 
were  organized  separately,  and  at  different 


The  pacification  of  the  west  of  France    places  of  rendezvous,  but  ready  to  form  a 
had   placed   many  good  troops   at  Buona-    junction  when  they  should  recewe  the  eig- 
parte's  disposal,  which  had  previously  been    nal  for  commencing  operations, 
engaged    against  the  Chouans  ;  the    quiet  I 


CHAP.  XXXVII. 

The  Chief  Consul  leaves  Paris  on  G(h  May  1800— JIas  an  Intervieio  with  Necker  at  Ge- 
neva on  8th — Arrives  at  Latisanne  on  the  Volh —  Various  corps  put  in  motion  to  cross 
the  Alps. — Napoleon,  at  the  head  of  the  Main  Army,  marches  on  the  loth,  and  ascends 
Mont  St.  Bernard — Difficulties  of  the  march  surmounted. — On  the  i(>lh,the  Van-gxiurd 
takes  possession  of  Aosta. — Fortress  and  Town  of  Hard  threaten  to  baffle  the  whole 
Plan — The  Town  is  captured — and  Napoleon  contrives  to  send  his  Artillery  through 
it  under  the  fire  of  the  Port,  his  Infantry^  and  Cavalry  pa.ising  over  the  Albaredo. — 
Lannes  carries  Ivrea. — Recapitulation. — Operations  of  the  Austrian  General  Melas 
— At  the  commencement  of  the  Campaign  Melas  advances  towards  Genoa. — Many  Ac- 
tions bettoixt  him  and  Massena. — In  March.  Lord  Keith  blockades  Genoa. — Mela.') 
compelled  to  retreat  from  Genoa — Enters  Nice — Recalled  from  thence  by  the  news  of 
Napoleons  having  crossed  Mont  St.  Bernard — Genoa  surrenders — Buonaparte  enters 
Milan — Battle  of  Montebello,  and  Victory  of  the  French — The  Chief  Consul  is  join- 
ed by  Dessaix  on  the  l\th  June. — Great  Battle  of  Marengo  on  the  VUh,  and  complete 
Victory  of  the  French — Death  of  Dessaix — Capitxdation  on  the  loth,  by  which  Genoa 
6cc.  are  yielded  to  the  French. — Napoleon  returns  to  Paris  on  the  2d  July,  and  is  re- 
ceived with  all  the  acclamations  due  to  a  great  Conqueror. 


O.N'  the  6th  of  May  1800,  seeking  to  re- 
new the  fortunes  of  France,  now  united 
with  his  own,  the  Chief  Consul  left  Paris, 
nnd,  having  reviewed  the  pretended  army  of 
reserve  at  Dijon  on  the  7th,  arrived  on  the 
cith  at  Geneva.  Here  he  had  an  interview 
with  tlie  celebrated  financier  Necker. 
There  was  always  doomed  to  be  some  mis- 
understanding between  Buonaparte  and  this 
accomplished  family.  Madame  de  Stael 
believed  that  Buonaparte  spoke  to  her  fa- 
ther with  confidence  on  his  future  pros- 
pects ;  while  the  First  Consul  affirms  that 
Necker  seemed  to  expect  to  be  intrusted 
with  the  management  of  the  French  finan- 
ces, and  that  they  parted  with  mutual  in- 
difference, if  not  dislike.  Napoleon  had  a 
more  interesting  conversation  with  Gener- 
al Marescot,  despatched  to  survey  Mont 
Bernard,  and  who  had,  with  great  difficulty, 
ascended  as  far  as  the  convent  of  the  Char- 
treux.  '•■  Is  the  route  practicable  ?"  said 
Buonaparte. — "  It  is  barely  possible  to 
pass,"  replied  the  engineer. — "  Let  us  set 
forward  then,"  said  Napoleon,  and  the  ex- 
traordinary march  was  commenced. 

On  the  13th,. arriving  at  Lausanne,  Buo- 
naparte joined  the  van  of  his  real  army  of 
reserve,  which  consisted  of  six  effective 
regiments,  commanded  by  the  celebrated 
I^annes.  These  corps,  together  with  the 
rest  of  the  troops  intended  for  the  expedi- 
tion, had  been  assembled  from  their  seve- 
ral positions  by  forced  marches.  Carnot. 
the  minister  at  war,  attended  the  First  Con- 
sul at  Lausanne,  to  report  to  him  that  15,000, 
or  from  that  to  the  number  of  20,000  men, 
detached  from  Moreau's  army,  were  in  the 
act  of  descending  on  Italy  by  St.  Ciothard 
in  order  to  form  the  left  wing  of  his  army. 
The  whole  army,  in  its  various  divisions. 


was  now  united  under  the  command  of  Bcr- 
thier  nominally,  as  General-in-chief,  thougli 
in  reality  under  that  of  the  First  Consul 
himself.  This  was  in  compliance  with  a 
regulation  of  the  Constitution,  which  ren- 
dered it  inconsistent  for  the  First  Consul 
to  command  in  person.  It  was  a  form 
which  Buonaparte  at  present  evaded,  and 
afterwards  laid  aside  ;  thinking  truly,  tliat 
the  name,  as  well  as  off.ce  of  Generalissi- 
mo, was  most  fittingly  vested  in  his  own 
person,  since,  though  it  might  not  be  the 
loftiest  of  his  titles,  it  was  that  which  best 
expressed  his  power.  The  .army  might 
amount  to  60,000  men,  but  one-third  of  the 
number  were  conscripts. 

Duriny  the  interval  between  the  loth  and 
18th  of  May,  all  the  colums  of  the  French 
army  were  put  into  motion  to  cross  the 
Alps.  Tureau,  at  the  head  of  5000  men, 
directed  his  march  by  Mount  Cenis,  on  ex- 
illes  and  Susa.  A  similar  division,  com- 
manded by  Chabran,  took  the  route  of  the 
Little  St.  Bernard.  Buonaparte  himself, 
on  the  15tli,  at  the  head  of  the  main  body 
of  his  army,  consisting  of  30,000  men  and 
upwards,  marched  from  Lausanne  to  the 
little  village  called  St.  Pierre,  at  which 
point  there  ended  every  thing  resembling  a 
practicable  road.  .\n  immense  and  appar- 
ently inaccessible  mountain,  reared  its  head 
among  general  desolation  and  eternal  frost; 
while  precipices,  glaciers,  ravines,  and  a 
boundless  extent  of  faithless  snows,  which 
the  slightest  concussion  of  the  air  converts 
into  avalanches  capable  of  burying  armies 
in  their  descent,  appeared  to  forbid  access 
to  all  living  things  but  the  chamois,  and 
his  scarce  less  wild  pursuer.  Yet  foot  by 
foot,  and  man  by  man,  did  the  French  sol 
dicrs  proceed  to  ascend  this  formidable  bar- 


C^.  XXXVII.]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


337 


rier,  which  Nature  had  erected  in  vain  to 
limit  human  ambition.  The  view  of  the 
valley,  emphatically  called  "  of  Desola- 
tion," where  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  snow 
and  sky,  had  no  terrors  for  the  First  Consul 
and  his  army.  They  advanced  up  paths  hith- 
erto only  practised  by  hunters,  or  here  and 
there  a  hardy  pedestrian,  the  infantry  load- 
ed with  their  arms,  and  in  full  military 
equipment,  the  cavalry  leading  their  hors- 
es. The  musical  bands  played  from  time 
to  time  at  the  head  of  the  regiments,  and, 
in  places  of  unusual  difficulty,  the  drums 
beat  a  charge,  as  if  to  encourage  the  sol- 
diers to  encounter  the  opposition  of  Nature 
herself.  The  artillery,  without  which  they 
could  not  have  done  service,  were  deposit- 
ed in  trunks  of  trees  hollowed  out  for  the 
purpose.  Each  was  dragged  by  a  hundred 
men,  and  the  troops,  making  it  a  point  of 
honour  to  bring  forward  their  guns,  accom- 
plished tliis  severe  duty,  not  with  cheer- 
fulness only,  but  with  enthusiasm.  The 
carriages  were  taken  to  pieces,  and  harness- 
ed on  the  backs  of  mules,  or  committed  to 
the  soldiers,  who  relieved  each  other  in 
the  task  of  bearing  them  with  levers  ;  and 
the  ammunition  was  transported  in  the 
same  manner.  While  one  half  of  the  sol- 
diers were  thus  engaged,  the  others  were 
obliged  to  carry  the  muskets,  cartridge-bo.\- 
es,  knapsacks,  and  provisions  of  their  com- 
rades, as  well  as  their  own.  Each  man,  so 
loaded,  was  calculated  to  carry  from  sixty 
to  seventy  pounds  weight,  up  icy  precipic- 
es, where  a  man  totally  without  encum- 
brance cculd  ascend  but  slowly.  Probably 
no  troops  save  the  French  could  have  en- 
dured the  fatigue  of  such  a  march  ;  and  no 
other  general  than  Buonaparte  would  have 
ventured  to  require  it  at  their  hand. 

He  set  out  a  considerable  time  after  the 
march  had  begun,  alone,  excepting  his 
guide.  He  is  described  by  tlie  Swiss  peas- 
ant who  attended  him  in  that  capacity,  as 
wearing  his  usual  simple  dress,  a  grey  sur- 
tout,  and  three-cornered  hat.  He  travelled 
in  silence,  save  a  few  short  and  hasty  ques- 
tions about  the  country,  addressed  to  his 
truide  from  time  to  time.  When  these 
were  answered,  he  relapsed  into  silence. 
There  was  a  gloom  on  his  brow,  corres- 
ponding with  the  weather,  which  vvas  wet 
and  dismal.  His  countenance  had  acquir- 
ed, during  his  Eastern  campaigns,  a  swart 
complexion,  which  added  to  his  natural  se- 
vere gravity,  an>l  the  Swiss  peasant  who 
guided  him  felt  fear  as  he  looked  on  him.' 
Occasionally  his  route  was  stopt  bv  some 


*  Apparently  the  guide  who  conducted  him  from 
the  Grand  Chartreiix  found  the  Chief  Consul  in 
better  humour,  for  Buonaparte  said  he  conversed 
freely  with  him,  and  expressed  come  wishes  with 
respect  to  a  little  farm,  &c.  which  lie  was  able  to 
ffratify.  To  h  s  guide  from  Martigny  to  St.  Pierre, 
he  was  also  liberal ;  but  the  only  specimen  of  his 
conversation  which  the  latter  rememtwred,  was, 
when,  shaking  the  rain-water  from  his  hat,  he  ex- 
claimed— "  There,  see  what  I  have  done  in  your 
mountains — spoiled  my  new  hat.  Pshaw,  I  will 
find  another  on  the  other  side."  See,  for  these  and 
other  interesting  anecdotes,  Mr.  Tennent's  Tour 
through  the  Netherlands,  Holland,  Germany, 
Steitterland,  ^c. 

Vot.  I.  P 


temporary  obstacle  occasioned  by  a  halt  in 
the  artillery  or  baggage ;  his  commands  on 
such  occasions  were  peremptorily  given, 
and  instantly  obeyed,  his  very  look  seeming 
enough  to  silence  all  objection,  and  remove 
every  difficulty. 

The  army  now  arrived  at  that  singular 
convent,  where,  with  courage  equal  to  their 
own,  but  flowing  from  a  much  higher 
source,  the  monks  of  St.  Bernard  have  fixed 
their  dwellings  among  the  everlasting 
snows,  that  they  may  afford  succour  and 
hospitality  to  the  forlorn  travellers  in  those 
dreadful  wastes.  Hitherto  the  soldiers  had 
had  no  refreshment,  save  when  they  dipt 
a  morsel  of  biscuit  amongst  the  snow. 
The  good  fathers  of  the  convent,  who  pos- 
sess considerable  magazines  of  provisions, 
distributed  bread  and  cheese,  and  a  cup  of 
wine,  to  each  soldier  as  he  passed,  which 
was  more  acceptable  in  their  situation, 
than,  according  to  one  who  shared  their 
fatigues,*  would  have  been  tfie  gold  vf 
Mexico. 

The  descent  on  the  other  side  of  Mont 
St.  Bernard  was  as  difficult  to  the  infantry 
as  the  ascent  had  been,  and  still  more  so  to 
the  cavalry.  It  was,  however,  accomplish- 
ed without  any  material  loss,  and  the  army 
took  up  their  quarters  for  the  night,  after 
having  marched  fourteen  French  leagues. 
The  next  morning,  16th  May,  the  van- 
guard took  possession  of  Aosta,  a  vill.ace  of 
Piedmont,  from  which  extends  the  valley 
of  the  same  name,  watered  by  the  river  Do- 
rea,  a  country  pleasant  in  itself,  but  render 
ed  delightful  by  its  contrast  with  the  hor- 
rors which  had  been  left  behind. 

Thus  was  achieved  the  celebrated  pas- 
sage of  Mont  St.  Bernard,  on  the  particulars 
of  which  we  have  dwelt  the  more  willingly, 
because,  although  a  military  operation  of 
importance,  they  do  not  involve  the  un- 
wearied details  of  human  slaughter,  to 
which  our  narrative  must  now  return. 

Where  the  opposition  of  Nature  to  Na- 
poleon's march  appeared  to  cease,  that  of 
man  commenced.  A  body  of  Austriaos  at 
Chatillon  were  overpowered  and  defeated 
by  Lannes  ;,  but  the  strong  fortress  of  Bard 
o'Tered  more  serious  opposition.  This  lit- 
tle citadel  is  situated  upon  an  almost  per- 
pendicular rock  rising  out  of  the  river  Do- 
rea,  at  a  place  where  the  valley  of  Aosta  ts 
rendered  so  very  narrow  by  the  approach 
of  two  mountains  to  each  other,  that  the 
fort  and  walled  town  of  Bard  entirely  close 
up  the  entrance.  This  formidable  obstacle 
threatened  for  the  moment  to  shut  up  the 
French  in  a  valley,  where  their  means  of 
subsistence  must  have  been  speedily  ex- 
hausted. General  Lannes  made  a  despe- 
rate effort  to  carry  the  fort  by  assault ;  but 
the  advanced  guard  of  the  attacking  party 
were  destroyed  by  stones,  musketry,  and 
hand-grenades,  and  the  attempt  was  relin- 
quished. 

Buonaparte  in  person  went  now  to  recon- 
noitre, and  for  that  purpose   ascending'  a 

*  Joseph  Petit,  Fourrier  des  grenadiers  de  '>a 
garde,  author  of  Marengo  ou  Catnpajne  U'llalu, 
bvo.  an. ix 


tS'dS 


LIFE  OF  NArOLt:Oi\  BUO:, Al'AKTE.      IChap.  XXX VIL 


huge  rock  called  Albaredo,  being  a  preci- 
pice on  the  side  of  one  of  the  mountains 
which  form  the  pass,  from  the  summit  of 
which  he  could  look  down  into  the  town, 
and  into  the  fortress.  He  detected  a  pos- 
sibility of  tiiking  the  town  by  storm,  though 
he  judged  the  fort  was  too  strong  to  be  ob- 
tained by  a  coup-de-main.  The  town  was 
accordingly  carried  by  escalade ;  but  the 
French  who  obtained  possession  of  it  had 
little  cover  from  the  artillery  of  the  fort, 
which  fired  furiously  on  the  houses  where 
they  endeavoured  to  shelter  themselves, 
and  which  the  Austrians  might  have  entire- 
ly demolished  but  for  respect  to  the  inhab- 
itants. Meanwhile,  Buonaparte  availed 
himself  of  the  diversion  to  convey  a  great 
part  of  !iis  army  in  single  files,  horse  as 
well  as  foot,  by  a  precarious  path  formed 
by  the  pioneers  over  the  tremendous  Alba- 
redo, and  so  down  on  the  other  side,  in  this 
manner  avoiding  the  cannon  of  Fort  Bard. 

Still  a  most  important  difficulty  remained. 
It  was  impossible,  at  least  without  great 
loss  of  time,  to  carry  the  French  artillery 
over  the  Albaredo,  while,  without  artillery, 
it  was  impossible  to  move  against  the  Aus- 
trians, and  every  hope  of  the  campaign 
must  be  given  up. 

In  the  meantime,  the  astonished  com- 
mandant of  the  fort,  to  whom  the  apparition 
of  this  immense  army  was  like  enchant- 
ment, despatched  messenger  after  messen- 
ger to  warn  Melas,  then  lying  before  Ge- 
noa, that  a  French  army  of  30,000  men  and 
upwards,  descending  from  the  Alps  by  ways 
hitherto  deemed  impracticable  for  military 
movements,  had  occupied  the  valley  of 
Aosta,  and  were  endeavouring  to  debouche 
by  a  path  of  steps  cut  in  the  Albaredo.  But 
lie  pledged  himself  to  his  commander-in- 
chief,  that  not  a  single  gun  or  ammunition 
wagon  should  pass  through  the  town ;  and 
as  it  was  impossible  to  drag  these  along  the 
Albaredo,  he  concluded,  that,  being  with- 
out his  artillery,  Buonaparte  would  not  ven- 
ture to  descend  into  the  plain. 

But  while  the  commandant  of  Bard  thus 
argued,  he  was  mistaken  in  his  premises, 
though  right  in  his  inference.  The  artille- 
ry of  the  French  armv  had  already  passed 
through  the  town  of  Bard,  and  under  the 
guns  of  the  citadel,  without  being  discover- 
ed to  have  done  so.  This  important  ma- 
nneuvre  was  accomplished  by  previously 
laying  the  street  with  dung  and  earth,  over 
which  the  pieces  of  cannon,  concealed  un- 
der straw  and  branches  of  trees,  were  drag- 
ged by  men  in  profound  silence.  The  gar- 
rison, though  they  did  not  suspect  what  was 
going  on,  fired  nevertheless  occasionally 
upon  some  vague  suspicion,  and  killed  and 
wounded  artillerymen  in  suthcient  number, 
to  show  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
pass  under  a  severe  and  sustained  discharge 
from  the  ramparts.  It  seems  singular  *:iiat 
the  commandant  had  kept  up  no  intelli- 
gence with  the  town.  Any  signal  previously 
agreed  upon — a  light  shown  in  a  window, 
for  example — would  have  detected  such  a 
stratagem. 

A  division  of  conscripts,  under  General 
Chabran,  was  left  to  reduce   Fort  Bard, 


which  continued  to  hold  out,  until,  at  the 
expense  of  great  labour,  batteries  were  es- 
tablished on  the  top  of  the  Albaredo,  by 
whicii  it  was  commanded,  and  a  heavy  gun 
placed  on  the  steeple  of  the  church,  when 
it  was  compelled  to  surrender.  It  is  not 
fruitless  to  observe,  that  the  resistance  of 
this  small  place,  which  had  been  overlook- 
ed or  undervalued  in  the  plan  of  the  cam- 
paign, was  very  nearly  rendering  the  march 
over  Mont  St.  Bernard  worse  than  useless, 
and  might  have  occasioned  the  destruction 
of  all  the  Chief  Consul's  army.  So  little 
are  even  the  most  distinguished  generals 
able  to  calculate  with  certainty  upon  all 
the  chances  of  war. 

From  this  dangerous  pass,  the  vanguard 
of  Buonaparte  now  advanced  down  the  val- 
ley to  Ivrea,  where  Lannes  carried  the 
town  by  storm,  and  a  second  time  combated 
and  defeated  the  Austrian  division  which 
had  defended  it,  when  reinforced  and  situ- 
ated on  a  strong  position  at  Romano.  The 
roads  to  Turin  and  Milan  were  now  alike 
open  to  Buonaparte — he  had  only  to  decide 
which  he  chose  to  take.  Meanwhile  he 
made  a  halt  of  four  days  at  Ivrea,  to  refresh 
the  troops  after  their  fatigues,  and  to  pre- 
pare them  for  future  enterprises. 

During  this  space,  the  other  columns  of 
his  army  were  advancing  to  form  a  junction 
with  that  of  the  main  body,  according  to  the 
plan  of  the  campaign.  Tureau,  who  had 
passed  the  Alps  by  the  route  of  Mont  Cenis, 
had  taken  the  forts  of  Susa  and  La  Brunette. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  large  corps  detach- 
ed by  Carnot  from  Moreau's  army,  were 
advancing  by  Mount  St.  Gothard  and  the 
Simplon,  to  support  the  operations  of  the 
F'irst  Consul,  of  whose  army  they  were  to 
form  the  left  wing.  But  ere  we  prosecute 
the  account  of  Buonaparte's  movements 
during  this  momentous  campaign,  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  trace  the  previous  operations  of 
Melas,  and  the  situation  in  which  that  Aus- 
trian general  now  found  himself. 

It  has  been  already  stated,  that,  at  the 
commencement  of  this  campaign  of  1800, 
the  Austrians  entertained  the  highest  hopes 
that  their  Italian  army,  having  taken  Genoa 
and  Nice,  might  penetrate  into  Provence  by 
crossing  the  frontier  at  the  Var,  and  per- 
haps make  themselves  masters  of  Toulon 
and  Marseilles.  To  realize  these  hopes, 
Melas,  having  left  in  Piedmont  a  sufficiei.t 
force,  as  he  deemed  it,  to  guard  the  passes 
of  the  Alps,  had  advanced  towards  Genoa, 
whicii  Masscna  prepared  to  cover  and  de- 
fend. A  number  of  severe  and  desperate 
actions  took  place  between  these  generals  ; 
but  being  a  war  of  posts,  and  fought  in  .1 
very  mountainous  and  difficult  country,  it 
was  impossible  by  any  skill  of  combination 
to  ensure  on  any  occasion  more  than  partial 
success,  since  co-operation  of  movemcnta 
upon  a  great  and  extensive  scale  was  pro- 
hibited by  the  character  of  the  ground. 
There  was  much  hard  fighting,  however, 
in  which,  though  more  of  the  Austrians 
were  slain,  yet  the  loss  was  most  severely 
felt  by  the  French,  whose  numbers  v%'ere 
inferior. 
In  the  month  of  March,  the  F^nglish  fleet, 


Chap.  XXX VII]      LIFE  OF  jNAPOLEOxX  BUOiNAPARTE. 


339 


under  Lord  Keith,  appeared,  as  we  have 
already  hinted,  before  Genoa,  and  com- 
menced a  blockade,  which  strictly  prevent- 
ed access  to  the  port  to  all  vessels  loaded 
with  provisions,  or  other  necessaries,  for 
the  besieged  city. 

On  the  Cth  of  April,  Melas,  by  a  grand 
movement,  took  Vado,  and  intersected  the 
French  line.  Suchet,  who  commanded 
Massena's  left  wing,  was  cut  off  from  that 
general,  and  thrown  back  on  France. 
Marches,  manoeuvres,  and  bloody  combats, 
followed  each  other  in  close  detail  ;  but 
the  French,  though  obtaining  advantages  in 
several  of  the  actions,  could  never  succeed 
in  restoring  the  communication  between 
Suchet  and  Massena.  Finally,  while  the 
former  retreated  towards  France,  and  took 
up  a  line  on  Borghetta,  the  latter  was  com- 
pelled to  convert  his  army  into  a  garrison, 
and  to  shut  himself  up  in  Genoa,  or  at  least 
encamp  in  a  position  close  under  its  ram- 
parts. Melas,  in  the  meantime,  approached 
the  city  more  closely,  when  Massena,  in  a 
desperate  sally,  drove  the  Austrians  from 
their  advanced  posts,  forced  them  to  retreat, 
made  prisoners  twelve  hundred  men,  and 
carried  off  some  warlike  trophies.  But  the 
French  were  exhausted  by  their  very  suc- 
cess, and  obliged  to  remain  within,  or  un- 
der the  walls  of  the  city,  where  the  ap- 
proach of  famine  began  to  be  felt.  Men 
were  already  compelled  to  have  recourse 
to  the  flesh  of  horses,  dogs,  and  other  un- 
clean animals,  and  it  was  seen  that  the 
place  must  soon  be  necessarily  obliged  to 
•surrender. 

Satisfied  with  the  approaching  fall  of  Ge- 
noa, Melas,  in  the  beginning  of  May,  left 
the  prosecution  of  the  blockade  to  General 
Ott,  and  moved  himself  against  Suchet, 
whom  he  drove  before  him  in  disorder,  and 
who,  overborne  by  numbers,  retreated  to- 
wards the  French  frontier.  On  the  Uth  of 
May,  Melas  entered  Nice,  and  thus  com- 
menced the  purposed  invasion  of  the  French 
frontier.  On  the  14-th,  the  .\ustrians  again 
attacked  Suchet,  who  now  had  concentrated 
Ills  forces  upon  the  Var,  in  hopes  to  protect 
the  French  territory.  Finding  this  a  more 
dilficult  task  than  he  expected,  Melas 
ne.Tt  prepared  to  pass  the  Var  higher  up, 
und  tirns  to  turn  the  position  occupied  by 
Suchet. 

But  on  the  21st,  the  Austrian  veteran  re- 
ceived intelligence  which  put  a  stop  to  all 
his  operations  against  Suchet,  and  recalled 
him  to  Italy  to  face  a  much  more  formida- 
ble antagonist.  Tidings  arrived  that  the 
First  Consul  of  France  had  crossed  St.  Ber- 
nard, had  extricated  himself  from  the  val- 
ley of  Aosta,  and  was  threatening  to  over- 
run Piedmont  and  the  Milanese  territory. 
'riif>se  tidin  js  were  as  unexpected  as  embar- 
rassing. The  artillery,  the  equipage,  the 
provisions  of  Melas,  together  with  his  com- 
munications with  Italy,  were  all  at  the 
mcrc"  of  this  unexpected  invader,  who, 
thoui^li  his  force  was  not  accurately  known, 
must  iiavo  brou<;]it  with  him  an  army  more 
than  adequate  to  destroy  the  troops  left  to 
puard  the  frontier;  who,  besides,  were  ne- 
cessarily divided,  and  exposed  to  be  beaten 


in  detail.  Yet,  if  Melas  marched  back 
into  Piedmont  against  Buonaparte,  he  must 
abandon  the  attack  upon  Suchet,  and 
raise  tlie  blockade  of  Genoa,  when  that 
important  city  was  just  on  the  eve  of  sur- 
render. 

Persevering  in  the  belief  that  the  French 
army  of  reserve  could  not  exceed  twenty 
thousand  men,  or  thereabouts,  in  number, 
and  supposing  that  the  principal,  if  not  the 
sole  object  of  the  First  Consul's  daring  ir- 
ruption, was  to  raise  the  siege  of  Genoa, 
and  disconcert  the  invasion  of  Provence, 
Melas  resolved  on  marching  himself  against 
Buonaparte  with  such  forces,  as,  united 
with  those  he  had  left  in  Italy,  might  be  of 
power  to  face  the  French  army,  according 
to  his  computation  of  its  probable  strength. 
At  the  same  time,  he  determined  to  leave 
before  Genoa,  an  army  sufficient  to  insure 
its  fall,  and  a  corps  of  observation  in  front 
of  Suchet,  by  means  of  which  he  might  ea- 
sily resume  his  plans  against  that  general, 
so  soon  as  the  Chief  Consul  should  be  de- 
feated or  driven  back. 

The  corps  of  observation  already  men- 
tioned was  under  the  command  of  General 
Ellsnitz,  strongly  posted  upon  the  Roye, 
and  secured  by  entrenchments.  It  served 
at  once  to  watch  Suchet,  and  to  cover  the 
siege  of  Genoa  from  any  attempts  to  re- 
lieve the  city,  which  might  be  made  in  the 
direction  of  France. 

Massena,  in  the  meantime,  no  sooner 
perceived  the  besieging  army  weakened  by 
the  departure  of  Melas,  than  he  conceived 
the  daring  plan  of  a  general  attack  on  the 
forces  of  Ott,  who  was  lef\  to  carry  on  the 
siege.  The  attempt  was  unfortunate.  The 
French  were  defeated,  and  Soult,  who  )iad 
joined  Massena,  was  wounded  and  made  a 
prisoner.  Yet  Genoa  still  held  out.  An 
officer  had  found  his  way  into  the  place, 
brought  intelligence  of  Buonaparte's  de- 
scent upon  Piedmont,  and  inspired  all  v.-ith 
a  new  spirit  of  resistance.  Still,  however, 
extreme  want  prevailed  in  the  city,  and  the 
hope  of  deliverance  seemed  distant.  The 
soldiers  received  little  food,  the  inhabitants 
less,  the  Austrian  prisoners,  of  whom  they 
had  about  8000  in  Genoa,  almost  none.*  .\t 
length,  the  situation  of  things  seemed  des- 
perate. The  numerous  population  ofGe 
noa  rose  in  the  extremity  of^  their  despair, 
and  called  for  a  surrender.  Buonaparte, 
they  said,  was  not  wont  to  march  so  slow- 
ly;  he  would  have  been  before  the  walla 
sooner,  if  he  was  to  appear  at  all ;  he  mutt 
have  been  defeated  or  driven  back  by  the 
superior  force  of  Melas.  They  demanded 
the  surrender  of  the  place,  therefore,  which 
Massena  no  longer  foutad  himself  in  a  con 
dition  to  oppose. 

Yet  could  that  brave  general  have  sus- 
pended this  measure  a  few  hours  loncer,  he 
would  have  been  spared  the  necessity   of 

*  Xapoleon  says,  that  Massena  proposed  to  (•cn- 
eral  Ott  to  send  in  provisions  to  feed  tliese  unha)>- 
py  men,  pledging  his  honour  they  should  Ixj  used 
to  no  other  purpose,  and  that  General  Ott  was  dis- 
pleased with  Lord  Keith  lor  declining  to  comply 
with  a.  proposal  so  utterly  unknown  in  the  ustigci 
of  war.    It  is  difficult  to  give  credit  to  this  storj. 


:;40 


LIFE  OF  NAFOLCON  BUONAPARTE.       [Chap.  XXX Vli 


making  it  ^t  all.  General  Ott  had  just  re- 
ceived commands  from  Melas  to  raise  the 
blockade  with  all  despatch,  and  to  fall  back 
upon  the  I'o,  in  order  to  withstand  Buona- 
parte, who,  in  unexpected  strength,  was 
marching  upon  Milan.  The  Austrian  statT- 
officer,  who  brought  the  order,  had  just  re- 
ceived his  audience  of  General  Ott,  when 
General  .\ndrieux,  presenting  himself  on 
the  part  of  Massena,  announced  the  French 
general's  desire  to  surrender  the  place,  if 
his  troops  were  permitted  to  march  out 
with  their  arms.  There  was  no  time  to  de- 
bate upon  terms  ;  and  those  granted  to  Mas- 
sena  by  Melas  were  so  unusually  favourable, 
that  perhaps  they  should  have  made  him 
aware  of  the  precarious  state  of  the  besieg- 
ing army.  He  was  permitted  to  evacuate 
Genoa  without  laying  down  his  arms,  and 
the  convention  was  signed  3th  June  ISOO. 
r»Ieantime,  at  this  agitating  and  interesting 
period,  events  of  still  greater  importance 
than  those  which  concerned  the  fate  of  the 
once  princely  Genoa,  were  taking  place 
with  frightful  rapidity. 

Melas,  with  about  one  half  of  his  army, 
had  retired  from  his  operations  in  the  Ge- 
noese territory,  and  retreated  on  Turin  by  the 
way  of  Coni,  where  he  fixed  his  head-quar- 
ters, expecting  that  Buonaparte  would  either 
advance  to  possess  himself  of  the  capital 
of  Piedmont,  or  that  he  would  make  an  ef- 
fort to  relieve  Genoa.  In  the  first  instance, 
Melas  deemed  himself  strong  enough  to 
receive  the  First  Consul ;  in  the  second,  to 
pursue  him  ;  and  in  either,  to  assemble  such 
numerous  forces  as  might  harass  and  em- 
barrass either  his  advance  or  his  retreat. 
But  Buonaparte's  plan  of  the  campaign  was 
different  from  what  Melas  had  anticipated. 
He  had  formed  the  resolution  to  pass  the 
rivers  Sesia  and  Tesino,  and  thus  leaving 
Turin  and  Melas  behind  him,  to  push 
straight  for  Milan,  and  form  a  junction  with 
the  division  of  about  20,000  men,  detached 
from  the  right  wing  of  Moreau's  army, 
which,  commanded  by  Moncey,  were  on 
their  road  to  join  him,  having  crossed  the 
mountains  by  the  route  of  St.  Gothard.  It 
was  necessary,  however,  to  disguise  his 
purpose  from  the  sagacious  veteran. 

With  this  view,  ere  Buonaparte  broke  up 
from  Ivrea,  Lannes,  who  had  commanded 
his  vanguard  with  so  much  gallantry,  victo- 
rious at  Romano,  seemed  about  to  improve 
hia  advantage.  He  had  marched  on  Chia- 
vaso,  and  seizing  on  a  number  of  boats  and 
small  vessels,  appeared  desirous  to  con- 
struct a  bridge  over  the  Po  at  that  place. 
This  attracted  the  attention  of  Melas.  It 
might  be  equally  a  preliminary  to  an  attack 
on  Turin,  or  a  movement  towards  Genoa. 
But  as  the  Austrian  General  was  at  the 
same  time  alarmed  by  the  descent  of  Gen- 
eral Tureau's  division  from  Mount  Cenis, 
and  their  capture  of  Susa  and  La  Brunnota, 
Turin  seemed  ascertained  to  be  the  object 
of  the  French  ;  and  Melas  acted  on  this 
idea.  He  sent  a  strong  force  to  oppose  the 
establishment  of  the  bridge,  and  while  his 
Aitcniion  was  thus  occupied,  Buonaparte 
was  left  to  take  the  road  to  Milan  unmolest- 
■ed     Vercelli  was  occupied  by  the  cavalry 


under  Murat,  and  the  Sesia  was  crossed 
without  obstacle.  The  Tesino,  a  broad  and 
rapid  river,  offered  more  serious  opposi- 
tion ;  but  the  French  found  four  or  five  small 
boats,  in  which  they  pushed  across  an  ad- 
vanced party  under  General  Gerard.  The 
Austrians,  who  opposed  the  passage,  were 
in  a  great  measure  cavalry,  who  could  not 
act  on  account  of  the  woody  and  impractica- 
ble character  of  the  bank  of  the  river.  The 
passage  was  accomplished  j  and,  upon  the 
second  of  June,  Buonaparte  entered  Milan, 
where  he  was  received  with  acclamations 
by  a  numerous  class  of  citizens,  who  looked 
for  the  re-establishment  of  the  Cisalpine 
Republic.  The  Austrians  were  totally  un- 
prepared for  this  movement.  Pavia  fell  in- 
to the  hands  of  the  French  ;  Lodi  and  Cre- 
mona were  occupied,  and  Pizzighitone  was 
invested. 

Meantime,  Buonaparte,  fixing  his  resi- 
dence in  the  ducal  palace  of  Milan,  em- 
ployed himself  in  receiving  the  deputations 
of  various  public  bodies,  and  in  re-organiz- 
ing the  Cisalpine  government,  while  he 
waited  impatiently  to  be  joined  by  Moncey 
and  his  division,  from  Mount  St.  Gothard. 
They  arrived  at  length,  but  marching  more 
slowly  than  accorded  with  the  fiery  promp- 
titude of  the  First  Consul,  who  was  impa- 
tient to  relieve  the  blockade  of  Genoa, 
which  place  he  concluded  still  held  out 
He  now  issued  a  proclamation  to  his  troops, 
in  which  he  described,  as  the  result  of  the 
efforts  he  expected  from  them,  "  Cloudless 
glory  and  solid  peace,"  On  the  9th  of  Juno 
his  armies  were  again  in  motion. 

Melas,  an  excellent  officer,  had  at  the 
same  time  some  of  the  slowness  imputed  to 
his  countrymen,  or  of  the  irresolution  inci- 
dent to  the  advanced  age  of  eighty  years, — 
for  so  old  was  the  opponent  of  Buonaparte, 
then  in  the  very  prime  of  human  life, — or, 
as  others  suspect,  it  may  have  been  orders 
from  Vienna  which  detained  the  Austrian 
general  so  long  at  Turin,  where  he  lay  in  a 
great  measure  inactive.  It  is  true,  that  on 
receiving  notice  of  Buonaparte's  march  on 
Milan,  he  instantly  despatched  orders  to 
General  Ott,  as  we  have  already  stated,  to 
raise  the  siege  of  Genoa,  and  join  him  with 
all  possible  speed;  but  it  seemed,  that,  in 
the  meantime,  he  might  have  disquieted 
Buonaparte's  lines  of  communication,  by 
acting  upon  the  river  Dorea,  attacking 
Ivrea,  in  which  the  French  had  left  much 
baggage  and  artillery,  and  relieving  the  fort 
of  Bard.  Accordingly,  he  made  an  attempt 
of  this  kind,  by  detaching  6000  men  to  Chi- 
avaso,  who  were  successful  in  delivering 
some  Austrian  prisoners  at  that  place  ;  but 
Ivrea  proved  strong  enough  to  resist  them, 
and  the  French  retaining  possession  of  that 
place,  the  Austrians  could  not  occupy  the 
valley  of  the  Dorea,  or  relieve  the  besieged 
fortress  of  Bard. 

The  situation  of  Melas  now  became  crit- 
ical. His  communications  with  the  left,  or 
north  bank  of  the  Po,  were  entirely  cut  off, 
and  by  a  line  stretching  from  Fort  Bard  to 
Placentia,  the  French  occupied  the  best 
and  fairest  share  of  the  north  of  Italy,  while 
he  found  himself  confined  to  Piedmont 


Chap.  XXX VII.]       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


341 


The  Austrian  army,  besides,  was  divided 
into  two  parts, — one  under  Ott,  which  was 
still  near  Genoa,  that  had  so  lately  surren- 
dered to  them, — one  with  Melas  him- 
self, which  was  at  Turin.  Neither  were 
agreeably  situated.  That  of  Genoa  was 
observed  on  its  right  by  Suchet,  whose 
army,  reinforced  with  the  garrison  which, 
retaining  their  arms,  evacuated  that  city 
under  Massena,  might  soon  be  expect- 
ed to  renew  the  offensive.  There  was, 
therefore,  the  greatest  risk,  that  Buonaparte, 
pushing  a  strong  force  across  the  Po,  might 
attack  and  destroy  either  the  division  of 
Ott,  or  that  of  Melas  himself,  before  they 
were  able  to  form  a  junction.  To  prevent 
such  a  catastrophe,  Ott  received  orders  to 
march  forward  on  the  Tesino,  while  Melas, 
moving  towards  Alexandria,  prepared  to  re- 
sume his  communications  with  his  lieuten- 
ant-general. 

Buonaparte,  on  his  part,  was  anxious  to 
xelieve  Genoa ;  news  of  the  fall  of  which  had 
not  reached  him.  With  this  view  he  re- 
solved to  force  his  passage  over  the  Po,  and 
move  against  the  Austrians,  who  were  found 
to  occupy  in  strength  the  villages  of  Casteg- 
gio  and  Montebello.  These  troops  proved 
to  be  the  greater  part  of  the  very  army 
which  he  expected  to  find  before  Genoa, 
and  which  was  commanded  by  Ott,  but 
which  had  moved  westward,  in  conformity 
to  the  orders  of  Melas. 

General  Lannes,  who  led  the  vanguard  of 
the  French,  as  usual,  was  attacked  early  in 
the  morning  by  a  superior  force,  which  he  had 
much  difficulty  in  resisting,  the  nature  of  the 
ground  gave  advantage  to  the  Austrian  cav- 
alry, and  the  French  were  barely  able  to 
support  their  charges.  At  length  the  divis- 
ion of  Victor  came  up  to  support  Lannes, 
and  the  victory  became  no  longer  doubtful, 
though  the  Austrians  fought  most  obstin- 
ately. The  fields  being  covered  with  tall 
crops  of  grain,  and  especially  of  rye,  the 
difierent  bodies  were  frequently  hid  until 
they  found  themselves  at  the  bayonet's 
point,  without  having  had  any  previous  op- 
portunity to  estimate  each  other's  force,  a 
circumstance  which  led  to  much  close 
fighting,  and  necessarily  to  much  slaughter. 
At  length  the  Austrians  retreated,  leaving 
the  field  of  battle  covered  with  their  dead, 
and  above  5000  prisoners  in  the  hands  of 
their  enemies. 

General  Ott  rallied  the  remains  of  his  ar- 
my under  the  walls  of  Tortona.  From  the 
prisoners  taken  at  the  battle  of  Montebello, 
as  this  action  was  called,  Buonaparte  learn- 
ed, for  the  first  time,  the  surrender  of  Ge- 
noa, which  apprised  him  that  he  was  too 
late  for  the  enterprise  which  he  had  medi- 
tated. He  therefore  halted  his  army  for 
three  days  in  the  position  of  Stradella,  un- 
willing to  advance  into  the  open  plain  of 
Marengo,  and  trusting  that  Melas  would 
find  himself  compelled  to  give  him  battle 
in  the  position  which  he  had  chosen,  as 
most  unfavourable  to  the  Austrian  cavalry. 
He  despatched  messengers  to  Suchet,  com- 
manding him  to  cross  the  mountains  by  the 
Col  de  Cadibona,  and  march  on  the  river 


Scrivia,  which  would  place  him  in  the  rear 
of  the  Austrians. 

Even  during  the  very  battle  of  the  11th, 
the  Chief  Consul  was  joined  by  Dessaiz, 
who  had  just  arrived  from  Egypt.  Landed 
at  Frejus,  after  an  hundred  interruptions, 
that  seemed  as  if  intended  to  withhold  him 
from  the  fate  he  was  about  to  meet,  he  had 
received  letters  from  Buonaparte,  inviting 
him  to  come  to  him  without  delay.  The 
tone  of  the  letters  expressed  discontent 
and  embarrassment.  "  He  has  gained  all," 
said  Dessaix,  who  was  much  attached  to 
Buonaparte,  "  and  yet  he  is  not  happy. 
Immediately  afterwards,  on  reading  the  ac- 
count of  his  march  over  St.  Bernard,  he  ad- 
ded, "  He  will  leave  us  nothing  to  do."  He 
immediately  set  out  post  to  place  himself 
under  the  command  of  his  ancient  general, 
and,  as  it  eventually  proved,  to  encounter 
an  early  death.  They  had  an  interesting 
conversation  on  the  subject  of  Egypt,  to 
which  Buonaparte  continued  to  cling,  as  to 
a  matter  in  which  his  own  fame  was  i/iti- 
mately  and  inseparably  concerned.  Des- 
saix immediately  received  the  command  of 
the  division  hitherto  under  that  of  Boudet. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  head-quarters  of 
Melas  had  been  removed  from  Turin,  and 
fixed  at  Alexandria  for  the  space  of  two 
days ;  yet  he  did  not,  as  Buonaparte  had  ex- 
pected, attempt  to  move  forward  on  the 
PVench  position  at  Stradella,  in  order  to 
force  his  way  to  Mantua ;  so  that  the  First 
Consul  was  obliged  to  advance  towards  Al- 
exandria, apprehensive  lest  the  Austrians 
should  escape  from  him,  and  either,  by 
a  march  to  the  left  flank,  move  for  the  Te- 
sino, cross  that  river,  and,  by  seizing  Milan, 
open  a  communication  with  Austria  in  that 
direction  ;  or  by  marching  to  the  right,  and 
falling  back  on  Genoa,  overwhelm  Suchet, 
and  take  a.  position,  the  right  of  which 
might  be  covered  by  that  city,  while  the 
sea  was  open  for  supplies  and  provisions, 
and  their  flank  protected  by  the  British 
squadron. 

Either  of  these  movements  might  have 
been  attended  with  alarming  consequences ; 
and  Napoleon,  impatient  lest  his  enemy 
should  give  him  the  slip,  advanced  his  head- 
quarters on  the  12th  to  Voghera,  and  on 
the  13th  to  St.  Juliano,  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  plain  of  Marengo.  As  he  still  saw 
nothing  of  the  enemy,  the  Chief  Consul 
concluded  that  Melas  had  actually  retreat- 
ed from  Alexandria,  having,  notwithstand- 
ing the  temptation  aff"orded  by  the  level 
ground  around  him,  preferred  withdrawing, 
most  probably  to  Genoa,  to  the  hazard  of 
a  battle.  He  was  still  more  confirmed  in 
this  belief,  when,  pushing  forward  as  far  as 
the  village  of  Marengo,  he  found  it  only 
occupied  by  an  Austrian  rear-guard,  which 
offered  no  persevering  defence  against  the 
French,  but  retreated  from  the  village  with- 
out much  opposition.  The  Chief  Consul 
could  no  longer  doubt  that  Melas  had  elu- 
ded him,  by  marching  off  by  one  of  hi« 
flanks,  and  probably  by  his  right.  He  gave 
orders  to  Dessaix,  whom  he  had  intrusted 
with  the  command  of  the  reserve,  to  march 


342  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       [Chaj,.  XXXVII. 

towards  Rivolta,  with  a  view  to  observe  the  i  Italy,  but  it  was  impossible  to  guess  how 
rituons  wUh  Genoa;   and  i.th.s    ^yerore  ..per tant  con^ 


manner  the  reserve  was  removed  half 
day's  march  from  the  rest  of  the  army, 
which  had  like  to  have  produced  most  sin- 
ister effects  upon  the  event  of  the  great 
battle  that  followed. 

Contrary  to  what  Buonaparte  had  antici- 
pated, the  Austrian  general,  finding  the 
First  Consul  in  his  front,  and  knowing  that 
Suchet  was  in  his  rear,  had  adopted,  with 
the  consent  of  a  council  of  war,  the  reso- 
lution of  trying  the  fate  of  arms  in  a  gen- 
eral battle.  "  It  was  a  bold,  but  not  a  rash 
resolution.  The  Austrians  were  more  nu- 
merous than  the  French  in  infantry  and  ar- 
tillery ;  much  superior  in  cavalry,  both  in 
point  of  numbers  and  of  discipline  ;  and  it 
has  been  already  said,  that  the  extensive 
plain  of  Marengo  was  favourable  for  the 
use  of  that  description  of  force.  Melas, 
therefore,  on  the  evening  of  the  Idth,  con- 
centrated his  forces  in  front  of  Alexandria, 
divided  by  the  river  Bormida  from  the  pur- 
posed field  of  fight;  and  Napoleon,  unde- 
ceived concerning  the  intentions  of  his 
enemy,  made  with  all  haste  the  necessary 
preparations  to  receive  battle,  and  failed 
not  to  send  orders  to  Dessaix  to  return  as 
sjieedily  as  possible  and  join  the  array. 
That  general  was  so  far  advanced  on  his 
way  towards  Rivolta  before  these  counter 
orders  reached  him,  that  his  utmost  haste 
only  brought  him  back  after  the  battle  had 
lasted  several  hours. 

Buonaparte's  disposition  was  as  fol- 
lows :— The  village  of  Marengo  was  occu- 
pied by  the  divisions  of  Gardanne  and 
Chambarlhac.  Victor,  with  other  two  di- 
visions, and  commanding  the  whole,  was 
prepared  to  support  them.  He  extended 
his  left  as  far  as  Castel  Ceriolo,  a  small  vil- 
lage which  lies  almost  parallel  with  Ma- 
rengo. Behind  this  first  line  was  placed 
a  brigade  of  cavalry,  under  Kellermana, 
ready^to  protect  the  flanks  of  the  line,  or  to 
debouche  through  the  intervals,  if  opportu- 
nity served,  and  attack  the  enemy.  About 
a  thousand  yards  in  the  rear  of  the  first  line 
was  stationed  the  second,  under  Lannes, 
supported  by  Champeaux's  brigade  of  cav- 
alry. At  the  same  distance,  in  the  rear  of 
Lannes,  was  placed  a  strong  reserve,  or 
third  line,  consisting  of  the  division  of  Car- 
ra  St.  Cyr.  and  the  Consular  Guard,  at  the 
head  of  whom  was  Buonaparte  himself. 
Thus  the  French  were  drawn  up  on  this 
memorable  day  in  three  distinct  divisions, 
each  composed  of  a  corps  d'armee,  distant 
about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  the  rear  of 
each  other. 

The  force  which  the  French  had  in  the 
field  in  the  commencement  of  the  day,  was 
above  twenty  thousand  men;  the  reserve, 
under  Dessaix.  upon  its  arrival,  might  make 
the  whole  amount  to  thirty  thousand.  The 
Austrians  attacked  with  nearly  forty  thou- 
sand troops.  Both  armies  were  in  high 
spirits,  determined  to  fight,  and  each  con- 
fident  in  their  general— the  Austrians  in  the 
bravery  and  experience  of  Mel;ig,the  French 
in  the  genius  and  talents  of  Buonaparte. 


event  of  the  day  might  involve.  Thus 
much  seemed  certain,  that  the  battle  must 
be  decisive,  and  that  defeat  must  prove 
destruction  to  the  party  who  should  sustain 
it.  Buonapart?,  if  routed,  could  hardly 
have  accomplished  his  retreat  upon  Milan  ; 
and  Melas,  if  defeated,  had  Suchet  in  his 
rear.  The  fine  plain  on  which  the  French 
were  drawn  up,  seemed  lists  formed  by  na- 
ture for  such  an  encounter,  when  the  fate 
of  kingdoms  was  at  issue. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  Austrians  cross- 
ed the  Bormida,  in  three  columns,  by  three 
military  bridges,  and  advanced  in  the  same 
order.  The  right  and  the  centre  columns, 
consisting  of  infantry,  were  commanded  by 
Generals  Haddick  and  Kaine  ;  the  left, 
composed  entirely  of  light  troops  and  cav- 
alry, made  a  detour  round  Castel  Ceriolo, 
the'  village  mentioned  as  forming  the  ex- 
treme right  of  the  French  position.  About 
seven  in  the  morning,  Haddick  attacked 
Marengo  with  fury,  and  Gardanne's  divis- 
ion, after  fighting  bravely,  proved  inade- 
quate to  its  defence.  Victor  supported 
Gardanne.  and  endeavoured  to  cover  the 
village  by  an  oblique  movement.  Melas, 
who  commanded  in  person  the  central 
column  of  the  Austrians,  moved  to  support 
Haddick  ;  and  by  their  united  efforts,  the 
village  of  Marengo,  after  having  been  once 
or  twice  lost  and  won,  was  finally  carried. 

The  broken  divisions  of  Victor  and  Gar- 
danne, driven  out  of  Marengo,  endeavoured 
to  rally  on  the  second  line,  commanded 
by  Lannes.  This  was  about  nine  o'clock. 
While  one  Austrian  column  manoeuvred  to 
turn  Lannes's  flank,  in  which  they  could 
not  succeed,  another,  with  better  fortune, 
broke  through  the  centre  of  Victor's  divis- 
ion, in  a  considerable  degree  disordered 
them,  and  thus  uncovering  Lannes's  left 
wing,  compelled  him  to  retreat.  He  was 
able  to  do  'so  in  tolerably  good  order;  but 
not  so  the  broken  troops  of  Victor  on  the 
left,  who  fled  to  the  rear  in  great  confusion. 
The  column  of  Austrian  cavalry  who  had 
come  round  Castel  Ceriolo,  now  appeared 
on  the  field,  and  threatened  the  right  of 
Lannes,  which  alone  remained  standing 
firm.  Napoleon  detached  two  battalions  of 
the  Consular  Guard  from  the  third  line,  or 
reserve,  which,  forming  squares  behind  the 
right  wing  of  Lannes,  supported  its  resist- 
ance, and  withdrew  from  it  in  part  the  at- 
tention of  the  enemy's  cavalry.  The  Chief 
Consul  himself,  whose  post  was  distinguish- 
ed by  the  furred  caps  of  a  guard  of  two 
hundred  grenadiers,  brought  up  Monnier'a 
division,  which  had  but  now  entered  the 
field  at  tlie  moment  of  extreme  need,  being 
the  advance  of  Dessaix' s  reserve,  returned 
from  their  half  day's  march  towards  Rivol- 
ta. These  were,  with  the  guards,  directed 
to  support  Lannes's  right  wing,  and  a  brig- 
ade detached  from  them  was  thrown  into 
Castel  Ceriolo,  which  now  became  the 
point  of  support  on  Buonaparte's  extreme 
right,  and  which  the  Austrians,  somewhat 
unaccountably,  had  omitted  to  occupy  in 


in  the  eenius  and  talents  oi  isuonaparie.—    uiiai.i.uuii.,auijr,  ,.cvu^....^ —  >-   ---  ly 
The  immediate  stake  was  the  possession  of  |  force  when  their  left  column  passed  it  m 


Chap.  XXX  VII.\       LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


343 


the  beginning  of  the  engagement.  Buona- 
parte, meantime,  by  several  desperate 
charges  of  cavalry,  endeavoured  in  vain  to 
arrest  the  progress  of  the  enemy.  His 
lefl  wing  was  put  completely  to  flight ;  his 
centre  was  in  great  disorder,  and  it  was 
only  his  right  wing,  whicli,  by  strong  sup- 
port, had  been  enabled  to  stand  their 
ground. 

In  these  circumstances  the  day  seemed 
80  entirely  against  him,  that,  to  prevent  his 
right  wing  from  boiiig  overwhelmed,  he  was 
compelled  to  retreat  in  the  face  of  an  ene- 
my superior  in  numbers,  and  particularly  in 
cavalry  and  artillery  It  was,  liowcver, 
rather  a  change  of  position,  than  an  absolute 
retreat  to  the  rear.  The  French  right, 
still  resting  on  Castel  Ceriolo,  which  form- 
ed the  pivot  of  the  manoeuvre,  iiad  orders 
to  retreat  very  slowly,  the  centre  faster,  the 
left  It  ordinary  quick  time.  In  this  manner 
the  whole  line  of  battle  was  changed,  and 
instead  of  extending  diagonally  across  the 
plain,  as  when  the  tight  began,  the  French 
now  occupied  an  oblong  position,  the  left 
being  withdrawn  as  far  back  as  St.  Juliano, 
where  ii  was  protected  by  the  advance  of 
Dessaix's  troops.  This  division,  being  the 
sole  remaining  reserve,  had  now  at  length 
arrived  on  the  field,  and,  by  Buonaparte's 
directions,  had  taken  a  strong  position  in 
froat  of  Saint  Juliano,  on  which  the  Frencli 
were  obliged  to  retreat,  great  part  of  the 
left  wing  in  the  disorder  of  utter  flight,  the 
right  wing  steadily,  and  by  intervals  front- 
ing the  enemy,  and  sustaining  with  firmness 
the  attacks  made  upon  them. 

At  this  time,  and  when  victory  seemed 
within  his  grasp,  the  strength  of  General 
Melas,  eighty  years  old,  and  who  had  been 
many  hours  on  horseback,  failed  entirely  ; 
and  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  field,  and 
retire  to  Alexandria,  committing  to  Gener- 
al Zich  the  charge  of  completing  a  victory 
which  appeared  to  be  already  gained. 

But  the  position  of  Dessaix,  at  St.  Julia- 
no, afforded  the  First  Consul  a  rallying 
point,  which  he  now  greatly  needed.  His 
army  of  reserve  lay  formed  in  two  lines  in 
front  of  the  village,  their  flanks  sustained 
by  battalions  en  potence,  formed  into  close 
columns  of  infantry  ;  on  the  left  was  a  train 
of  artillery  ;  on  the  right,  Kellermann,  with 
a  large  body  of  French  cavalry,  which, 
routed  in  the  beginning  of  the  day,  had  ral- 
lied in  this  place.  The  ground  that  Des- 
saix occupied  was  where  the  high  road 
forms  a  sort  of  defile,  having  on  the  one 
hand  a  wood,  on  the  other  a  thick  planta- 
tion of  vines. 

The  French  soldier  understands  better 
perhaps  than  any  other  in  the  world  the  art 
of  rallying,  after  having  been  dispersed. 
The  fugitives  of  Victor's  division,  though 
in  extreme  disorder,  threw  themselves  into 
the  rear  of  Dessaix's  position,  and,  covered 
by  his  troops,  renewed  their  ranks  and  their 
courage.  Yet,  when  Dessaix  saw  the  plain 
filled  with  flying  soldiers,  and  beheld  Buon- 
aparte himself  in  full  retreat,  he  thought  all 
must  be  lost.  They  met  in  the  midst  of 
the  greatest  apparent  confusion,  and  Des- 
saix said,  "  The  battle  is  lost — I  suppose  I 


I  can  do  no  more  for  you  than  secure  your 
retreat  ?" 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  the  First  Con- 
sul, "  the  battle  is,  I  trust,  gained — the  dis- 
ordered troops  whom  you  see  are  my 
centre  and  left,  whom  I  will  rally  in  your 
rear — Push  forward  your  colnnin.'' 

Dessaix,  at  the  head  of  the  ninth  light  brig- 
ade, instantly  rushed  forward  and  charged  the 
Austrians,  wearied  with  fighting  the  whole 
day,  and  disordered  by  their  liasty  pursuit. 
Tiie  moment  at  which  he  advanced,  so 
critically  favourable  for  Buonaparte,  was 
fatal  to  himself.  He  fell,  shot  through  the 
head.*  But  his  soldiers  continued  to  at- 
tack with  fury,  and  Kellermann,  at  the  same 
time  charging  the  .\ustrian  column,  pene- 
trated its  ranks,  and  separated  from  the  rest 
j  six  battalions,  which,  surprised  and  panio 
struck,  threw  down  their  arms  ;  Zach,  who. 
in  the  absence  of  Melas,  commanded  in 
j  chief,  being  at  their  head,  was  taken  with 
.hem.  The  Austrians  were  now  driven 
back  in  their  turn.  Buonaparte  galloped 
along  the  French  line,  calling  on  the  sol- 
diers to  advance.  "  You  know,"  he  said, 
"  it  is  always  my  practice  to  sleep  on  the 
field  of  battle." 

The  .\ustrians  had  pursued  their  success 
with  incautious  hurry,  and  without  attend- 
ing to  the  due  support  which  one  corps 
ought,  in  all  circumstances,  to  be  prepared 
to  aflord  to  another.  Their  left  flank  was 
also  exposed,  by  their  hasty  advance,  to 
Buonaparte's  right,  which  had  never  lost 
order.  They  were,  therefore,  totally  un- 
prepared to  resist  this  general,  furious,  and 
unexpected  attack.  They  .vere  forced  back 
at  all  points,  and  pursued  along  the  plain, 
suffering  immense  loss  ;  nor  were  they 
again  able  to  make  a  stand  until  driven 
back  over  the  Bormida.  Their  fine  caval- 
ry, instead  of  being  drawn  up  in  squadrons 
to  cover  their  retreat,  fled  in  disorder,  and 
at  full  gallop,  riding  down  all  that  was  in 
their  way.  The  confusion  at  passing  the 
river  was  inextricable — large  bodies  of  men 
were  abandoned  on  the  left  side,  and  sur- 
rendered to  the  French  in  the  course  of  the 
night,  or  next  morning. 

It  is  evident,  in  perusing  the  accounts  of 
this  battle,  that  the  victory  was  wrested 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  Austrians,  after  they 
had  become,  by  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  toe 
weary    to    hold    it.     Had    they    sustainea 
their  advance   by  reserves,   their  disaster 
would  not  have  taken  place.     It  seems  al- 
so certain,  that  the  fate  of  Buonaparte  was 
determined  by  the  arrival  of  Dessaix  at  the 
I  moment   he   did.   and  that   in  spite  of  the 
i  skilful    disposition    by    which    the   Chief 
'  Consul  w.is  enabled  to  support  the   attack 
1  so  long,  he  must  have  been  utterly  defeated 
had  Dessaix  put  less  despatch  in  his  coun- 

*  The  Moniteur  put  in  the  mouth  of  the  (lying 
general  a  message  to  Buonaparte,  in  which  he  ex- 
presseii  his  regret  that  he  had  done  so  little  for  his- 
tory, and  in  that  of  the  Chief  Consul  an  answer, 
)  lamenting  that  he  had  no  time  to  weep  for  Dessaix 
:  But  Buonaparte  himself  assures  us,  that  Dessaij 
i  was  .^hot  dead  on  the  spot  ;  nor  is  it  probalile  that 
the  tide  of  battle,  then  just  upon  the  act  of  turiv 
I  iog,  left  the  Consul  himself  time  for  set  phrases,  al 
i       >imcutal  ejaculations. 


344 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.      [Chap.  XXXVII. 


ter-march.  Military  men  have  been  farther 
of  opinioB,  that  Melas  was  guilty  of  a  great 
error,  in  not  occupying  Castel  Ceriolo  on 
the  advance  ;  and  that  the  appearances  of 
early  victory  led  the  Austrians  to  be  by  far 
too  unguarded  in  their  ad/ance  on  Saint  Ju- 
liano. 

In  consequence  of  a  loss  whicli  seemed 
in  the  circumstances  altogether  irreparable, 
Melas  resolved  to  save  the  remains  of  his 
army,  by  entering,  upon  the  13th  June  1800, 
into  a  convention,  or  rather  capitulation, 
by  which  he  agreed,  on  receiving  permis- 
sion to  retire  behind  Mantua,  to  yield  up 
Genoa,  and  all  the  fortified  places  which 
the  Austrians  possessed  in  Piedmont,  Lom- 
bardy,  and  the  Legations.  Buonaparte  the 
more  readily  granted  these  terms,  that  an 
English  army  was  in  the  act  of  arriving  on 
the  coast.  His  wisdom  taught  him  not  to 
drive  a  powerful  enemy  to  despair,  and  to 
be  satisfied  with  the  glory  of  having  regain- 
ed, in  the  aflTairs  of  Montebello  and  of  Ma- 
rengo, almost  all  the  loss  sustained  by  the 
French  in  the  disastrous  campaign  of  179i). 
Enough  had  been  done  to  show,  that,  as  the 
fortunes  of  France  appeared  to  wane  and 
dwindle  after  Buonaparte's  departure,  so 
they  revived  with  even  more  than  their 
original  brilliancy,  as  soon  as  this  Child  of 
Destiny  had  returned  to  preside  over  them. 
An  armistice  was  also  agreed  upon,  which 
it  was  supposed  might  afford  time  for  the 
conclusion  of  a  victorious  peace  with  Aus- 
tria; and  Buonaparte  extended  this  truce  to 
the  armies  on  the  Rhine,  as  well  as  those 
in  Italy. 

Two  days  having  been  spent  in  the  ar- 
rangements which  the  convention  with  Me- 
las rendered  necessary,  Bu'>naparte,  on  the 
17th  June,  returned  to  I^.  'an,  where  he 
again  renewed  the  republican  constitution, 
which  had  been  his  original  gift  to  the  Cis- 
alpine Stats.  He  executed  several  other 
acts  of  authority.  Though  displeased  with 
Massena  for  the  surrender  of  Genoa,  he  did 
not  the  less  constitute  him  Commander-in- 
chief  in  Italy ;  and  though  doubtful  of  the 


attrchment  of  Jourdan,  who  on  the  18th 
Brumaire,  seemed  ready  to  espouse  the  Re- 
publican interest,  he  did  not  on  that  ac- 
count hesitate  to  name  him  Minister  of  the 
French  Republic  in  Piedmont,  which  was 
equivalent  to  giving  him  the  administration 
of  that  province.  These  conciliatory  steps 
had  the  effect  of  making  men  of  the  most 
opposite  parties  see  their  own  interest  in 
supporting  the  government  of  the  First 
Consul. 

The  presence  of  Napoleon  was  now  ea- 
gerly dosired  at  Paris.  He  set  out  from  Mi- 
lan on  the  2-lth  .June,  and  in  his  passage 
through  Lyons,  paused  to  lay  the  founda- 
tion-stone for  rebuilding  the  Place  Belle- 
cour;  a  splendid  square,  which  had  been 
destroyed  by  the  frantic  vengeance  of  the 
Jacobins  when  Lyons  was  retaken  by  them 
from  the  insurgent  party  of  Girondine  and 
Royalists.  Finally,  the  Chief  Consul  re- 
turned to  Paris  upon  the  2d  July.  He  had 
left  it  on  the  6th  of  May  ;  yet  in  the  space 
of  not  quite  two  months,  how  many  hopes 
had  he  realized  !  All  that  the  most  sanguine 
partizans  had  ventured  to  anticipate  of  his 
success  had  been  exceeded.  It  seemed 
that  his  mere  presence  in  Italy  was  of  it- 
self sufficient  at  once  to  obliterate  the  mis- 
fortunes of  a  disastrous  campaign,  and  re- 
store the  fruits  of  his  own  brilliant  victories, 
which  had  been  lost  during  his  absence. 
It  appeared  as  if  he  was  the  sun  of  France 
— when  he  was  hid  from  her,  all  was  gloom 
— when  he  appeared,  light  and  serenity 
were  restored.  All  the  inhabitants,  leav- 
ing their  occupations,  thronged  to  the  Tu- 
illeries  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  wonder- 
ful man,  who  appeared  with  the  laurel  of 
victory  in  the  one  hand,  and  the  olive  of 
peace  in  the  other.  Shouts  of  welcome  and 
congratulation  resounded  from  the  gardens, 
the  courts,  and  the  quays,  by  which  the 
palace  is  surrounded  ;  high  and  low  illumi- 
nated their  houses ;  and  there  were  few 
Frenchmen,  perhaps,  that  were  not  for  the 
moment  partakers  of  the  general  joy. 


Ckdp.  XXXVII^     LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


345 


CHAP.  XXZVIII 

Napoleon  offers,  and  the  Atislrian  Envoy  accepts,  a  new  Treaty —  The  Emperor  re/use* 
it,  unless  Englandis  included. — Negotiations  then  attempted  with  England — They 
fail,  and  Austria  is  encouraged  to  a  renewal  of  the  War. — Reasoning  on  the  Policy 
of  this  Coiiclusion. — An  Armistice  of  forty-five  Days  is  followed  by  the  resumption  of 
Hostilities. — Battle  of  Hohenlinden  gained  by  Moreau  on  the  '3d  December  \H(X). — 
Other  Battles  take  place,  by  which  the  Austrian  Affairs  are  made  desperate,  and  they 
agree  to  a  separate  Peace.  An  Armistice  takes  place,  which  is  followed  by  the  Trea- 
ty of  Luneville. — Convention  between  France  and  the  United  States. — Explanatory 
Recapittdation. —  The  Queen  of  Naples  repairs  to  Petersburgh  to  intercede  with  the 
Emperor  Paul — His  capricious  Character :  originally  a  violent  Anti-Gallican,  he 
grows  cold  and  hostile  to  the  Austrians,  and  attached  to  the  Fame  and  Character  of 
the  Chief  Consid— Receives  the  Queen  of  Naples  with  cordiality,  and  applies  in  her 
behalf  to  Buonaparte — His  Envoy  received  at  Paris  with  the  utmost  distinction,  and 
the  Royal  Family  of  Naples  saved  for  the  present,  though  on  severe  Conditions. — 
The  Neapolitan  General  compelled  to  evacuate  the  Roman  Territories. — Rome  restor- 
ed to  the  Authority  of  the  Pope. — Napoleon  demands  of  the  King  of  Spain  to  declare 
War  against  Portugal. — Olivenza  and  Almeida  taken. — Buonaparte's  conduct  to- 
wards the  Peninsular  Powers  overbearing  and  peremptory. —  The  British  alone  active 
in  opposing  the  French. — Malta,  after  a  Blockade  of  two  Years,  obliged  to  submit  to 
the  English. 

tililies  over  the  whole  world ;  since  in  the 
one  case,  on  breaking  off  the  treaty,  hos- 
tilities can  be  almost  instantly  resumed ; 
on  the  other,  the  distance  and  uncertainty 
of  communication  may  prevent  the  war  be- 
ing recommenced  for  many  months ;  by 
which  chance  of  delay,  the  French,  as  be- 
ing inferior  at  sea,  were  sure  to  be  ;the 
gainers.  The  British  statesmen,  therefore, 
proposed  some  modifications,  to  prevent 
the  obvious  mequality  of  such  armistice. 
But  it  was  replied  on  the  part  of  France, 
that  though  they  would  accept  of  such  a 
modified  armistice,  if  Great  Britain  would 
enter  into  a  separate  treaty,  yet  the  Chief 
Consul  would  not  consent  to  it  if  Austris. 
was  to  be  participant  of  the  negotiation. 

Here,  therefore,  the  overtures  of  peace 
betwixt  France  and  England  were  ship- 
wrecked, and  the  Austrian  Emperor  was 
reduced  to  the  alternative  of  renewing  the 
war,  or  entering  into  a  treaty  without  his 
allies.  He  appears  to  have  deemed  him- 
self obliged  to  prefer  the  more  dangerooB 
and  more  honourable  course. 

This  was  a  generous  resolution  on  the 
part  of  Austria;  but  by  no  means  politic  at 
the  period,  when  their  armies  were  defeat- 
ed, their  national  spirit  depressed,  and 
when  the  French  armies  had  penetrated  so 
far  into  Germany.  Even  Pitt  himself,  upon 
whose  declining  health  the  misfortune 
made  a  most  unfavourable  impression,  had 
considered  the  defeat  of  Marengo  as  a  con- 
clusion to  the  hopes  of  success  against 
France  for  a  considerable  period.  •'  Fold 
up  the  map,"  he  said,  pointing  to  that  of 
Europe  ;  "  it  need  not  be  again  opened  for 
j  these  twenty  years." 

I  Yet,  unwilling  to  resign  the  contest, 
I  even  while  a  spark  of  hope  remained,  it 
was  resolved  upon  in  the  British  councils 
to  encourage  .\ustria  to  farther  prosecution 
of  the  war.  Perhaps,  in  recommending 
such  a  measure  to  her  ally,  at  a  period 
when  she  had  sustained  such  great  losses, 
and  was  in  the  state  of  dejection  to  whictk 
'  they  gave  rise,  Great  Britain  too  much  i» 


Napoleon  proceeded  to  manage  with 
great  skill  and  policy  the  popularity  which 
his  success  had  gained  for  him.  In  war  it 
was  always  his  custom,  after  he  had  struck 
some  venturous  and  apparently  decisive 
blow,  to  offer  such  conditions  as  might  in- 
duce the  enemy  to  submit,  and  separate  his 
interest  from  that  of  hi.^  allies.  Upon  this 
system  of  policy  he  offered  the  Count  de 
St.  Julien,  an  Austrian  envoy,  the  conditions 
of  a  treaty,  having  for  its  basis  that  of  Cam- 
po  Formio,  which,  after  the  loss  of  Italy  on 
the  fatal  field  of  Marengo,  afforded  terms 
much  more  favourable  than  the  Emperor  of 
Germany  was  entitled  to  have  e.tpected 
from  the  victors.  The  Austrian  envoy  ac- 
cordingly took  upon  him  to  subscribe  these 
preliminaries ;  but  they  did  not  meet  the 
approbation  of  the  Emperor,  who  placed 
his  honour  on  observing  accurately  the  en- 
gagements which  he  had  formed  with  Eng- 
land, and  who  refused  to  accede  to  a  trea- 
ty in  which  she  was  not  included.  It  was 
added,  however,  that  Lord  Minto,  the  Brit- 
ish ambassador  at  Vienna,  had  intimated 
Britain's  willingness  to  be  included  in  a 
treaty  for  general  pacification. 

This  proposal  occasioned  a  communica- 
tion between  France  and  Britain,  through 
Monsieur  Otto,  commissioner  for  the  care 
of  French  prisoners.  The  French  envoy 
intimated,  that  as  a  preliminary  to  Britain's 
entering  on  the  treaty,  she  must  consent  to 
an  armistice  by  sea,  and  suspend  the  advan- 
tages which  she  received  from  her  naval 
superiority,  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
First  Consul  of  Franc('  had  dispensed  with 
prosecuting  his  victories  by  land.  This  de- 
mand would  have  withdrawn  the  blockade 
of  the  British  vessels  from  the  French  sea- 
ports, and  allowed  the  sailing  of  reinforce- 
ments to  Egypt  and  Malta,  which  last  im- 
portant place  was  on  the  point  of  surrender- 
ing to  the  English.  The  British  ministers 
were  also  sensible  that  there  was,  besides, 
A  great  difference  between  a  truce  betwixt 
two  land  armies,  stationed  in  presence  of 
•tch  other,  and  a  suspension  of  naval  hos- 
VOL.  i,  P  2 


346 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.    [Chap.  XXXVUl 


sembled  an  eager  and  over-zealous  second, 
who  urges  his  principal  to  continue  a  com- 
bat after  his  strength  is  exhausted.  Aus- 
tria, a  great  and  powerful  nation,  if  left  to 
repose,  would  have  in  time  recruited  her 
strength,  and  constituted  once  again  a  bal- 
ance against  the  power  of  France  on  the 
continent;  but  if  urged  to  farther  exertions 
in  the  hour  of  her  extremity,  she  was  like- 
ly to  sustain  such  farther  losses,  as  might 
render  her  comparatively  insignificant  for  a 
number  of  years.  Such  at  least  is  the  con- 
clusion which  we,  who  have  the  advantage 
of  considering  the  measure  with  reference 
to  its  consequences,  are  now  enabled  to 
form.  At  the  emergency,  things  were 
viewed  in  a  different  light.  The  victories 
of  Suwarrow  and  of  the  Archduke  Charles 
were  remembered,  as  well  as  the  recent 
defeats  sustained  by  France  in  the  year 
1799,  which  had  greatly  tarnished  the  fame 
of  her  arms.  The  character  of  Buonaparte 
was  not  yet  sufficiently  estimated.  His 
failure  before  Acre  had  made  an  impression 
in  England,  which  was  not  erased  by  the 
victory  of  Marengo ;  the  extreme  prudence 
which  usually  tempered  his  most  venturous 
undertakings  was  not  yet  generally  known  ; 
and  the  belief  and  hope  were  received,  that 
one  who  ventured  on  such  new  and  daring 
manojuvres  as  Napoleon  employed,  was 
likely  to  behold  them  miscarry  at  length, 
and  thus  to  fall  as  rapidly  as  he  had  risen. 

Influenced  by  such  motives,  it  •"as  deter- 
mined in  the  British  cabinet  to  encourage 
the  Emperor,  by  a  loan  of  two  millions,  to 
place  himself  and  his  brother,  the  Archduke 
John,  in  command  of  the  principal  army, 
raise  the  whole  national  force  of  his  mighty 
empire,  and  at  -the  head  of  the  numerous 
forces  which  he  could  summon  into  the 
field,  either  command  a  more  equal  peace, 
or  try  the  fortunes  of  the  most  desperate 
war. 

The  money  was  paid,  and  the  Emperor 
joined  the  army  ;  but  the  negotiations  for 
peace  were  not  broken  off.  On  the  contra- 
ry, they  were  carried  on  much  on  the 
terms  which  Saint  Julien  had  subscribed  to, 
with  this  addition?!  and  discreditable  cir- 
cumstance, that  the  First  Consul,  as  a 
pledge  of  the  Austrian  sincerity,  required 
that  the  three  fortified  towns  of  Ingoldstadt, 
Ulm,  and  Philipstadt,  should  be  placed  tem- 
porarily in  the  hands  of  the  French  ;  a  con- 
dition to  which  the  Austrians  were  compel- 
led to  submit.  But  the  only  advantage  pur- 
chased by  this  surrender,  which  greatly 
exposed  the  hereditary  dominions  of  Aus- 
tria, was  an  armistice  of  forty-five  days,  at 
the  end  of  which  hostilities  were  again  re- 
newed. 

In  tne  action  of  Haag,  the  Archduke 
John,  whose  credit  in  the  army  almost  ri- 
valled thry.  of  his  brother  Charles,  obtainnd 
considerable  advantages  ;  and,  encouraged 
by  them,  he  ventured  on  the  3d  of  Decem- 
ber 1800,  two  days  afterward.s,  a  great  and 
decisive  encounter  with  Moreiu.  This 
was  the  occasion  on  which  that  genn.rai 
gained  over  the  Austrians  the  bloody  and 
most  important  victory  of  Hohenlinden,  an 
achievement  which  did  much  to  keep  his 


reputation  for  military  talents  abreast  with 
that  of  the  First  Consul  himself.  Moreau 
pursued  his  victory,  and  obtained  posses- 
sion of  Salzburg.  At  tlie  same  time  Auge- 
reau,  at  the  head  of  the  Gallo-Batavian  ar- 
my, pressed  forward  into  Bohemia ;  and 
Macdonald,  passing  from  the  country  of 
the  Grisons  into  the  V'alteline,  forced  a 
division  of  his  army  across  the  Mincio, 
and  communicated  with  Massena  and  the 
French  army  in  Italy.  The  Austrian  af- 
fairs seemed  utterly  desperate.  The  Arch- 
duke Charles  was  again  placed  at  the  head 
of  her  forces,  but  they  were  so  totally  dis- 
couraged, that  a  retreat  on  all  points  was 
the  only  measure  which  could  be  executed. 

Another  and  a  final  cessation  of  arms  was 
now  the  only  resource  of  the  Austrians ; 
and,  in  order  to  obtain  it,  the  Emperor  was 
compelled  to  agree  to  make  a  peace  sepa- 
rate from  his  allies,  Britain,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  extremity  to  which  her  ally  was 
reduced,  voluntarily  relieved  him  from  the 
engagement  by  which  he  was  restrained 
from  doing  so  without  her  participation. 
An  armistice  shortly  afterwards  took  place, 
and  the  Austrians  being  now  sufficiently 
humbled,  it  was  speedily  followed  by  a 
peace.  Joseph  Buonaparte,  for  this  pur- 
pose, met  with  the  Austrian  minister. 
Count  Cobentzel,  at  Luneville,  where  the 
negotiations  were  carried  on. 

There  were  two  conditions  of  the  treaty, 
which  were  peculiarly  galling  to  the  Empe- 
ror. Buonaparte  peremptorily  exacted  the 
cession  of  Tuscany,  the  hereditary  domin- 
ions of  the  brother  of  Francis,  which  were 
to  be  given  up  to  a  prince  of  the  House  of 
Parma,  while  the  Archduke  was  to  obtain 
an  indemnity  in  Germany.  The  French 
Consul  demanded,  with  no  less  pertinacity, 
that  Francis  (though  not  empowered  to  do 
so  by  the  Germanic  constitution)  should 
confirm  the  peace,  as  well  in  his  capacity 
of  Emperor  of  Germany,  as  in  that  of  sove- 
reign of  his  own  hereditary  dominions. 
This  demand,  from  which  Buonaparte 
would  on  no  account  depart,  involved  a 
point  of  ijreat  difficulty  and  delicacy.  One 
of  the  principal  clauses  of  the  treaty  inclu- 
ded the  cession  of  the  whole  territories  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine  to  the  French 
Republic  ;  thereby  depriving  not  only  Aus- 
tria, but  Prussia,  and  various  other  princps 
of  the  German  empire,  of  their  possessions 
in  the  districts,  which  wore  now  made  over 
to  P'rance.  It  was  provided  that  the  Prin- 
ces who  should  suffer  such  deprivations, 
were  to  be  remunerated  by  indemnities,  as 
they  were  termed,  to  be  allotted  to  them  at 
the  expense  of  the  Germanic  body  in  gene- 
ral. Now,  the  Emperor  had  no  power  to 
authorize  the  alienation  of  these  fiefs  of  the 
empire,  without  consent  of  the  Diet,  and 
this  was  strongly  urged  by  his  envoy. 

Buonaparte  was,  however,  determined  to 
make  peace  on  no  other  terms  than  those  I 
of  the  Emperor's  giving  away  what  was  not 
his  to  bestow.  Francis  was  compelled  to 
submit,  and,  as  the  necessity  of  the  caao 
pleaded  its  apology,  the  act  of  the  Empe- 
ror was  afterwards  ratified  by  the  Diet.  Ex- 
cept in  these  mortifying  claims,  the  sub- 


Chap.  XXX  VIII.]     LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


347 


misBion  to  which  plainly  intimated  the 
want  of  power  to  resist  compulsion,  the 
treaty  of  Luneville  was  not  much  more  ad- 
vantageous to  France  than  that  of  Campo 
Formic ;  and  the  moderation  of  tlie  First 
Consul  indicated  at  once  his  desire  of 
peace  upon  the  continent,  and  considera- 
Dle  respect  for  the  bravery  and  strength  of 
Austria,  though  enfeebled  by  such  losses  as 
those  of  Marengo  and  Hohenlinden. 

We  have  already  noticed  the  disputes  be- 
tween France  and  America,  and  the  scan- 
dalous turn  of  the  negotiations,  by  which 
the  French  Directory  attempted  to  bully  or 
wheedle  the  United  States  out  of  a  sum  of 
money,  which,  in  part  at  least,  was  to  be 
dedicated  to  their  own  private  use.  Since 
that  time  the  aggressions  committed  by  the 
French  on  the  American  navy  had  been  so 
numerous,  that  the  two  republics  seemed 
about  to  go  to  war,  and  the  United  States 
actually  issued  letters  of  marque  for  mak- 
ing reprisals  en  the  French.  xVew  commu- 
nications and  negotiations,  however,  were 
opened,  which  Buonaparte  studied  to  bring 
to  maturity.  His  brother  Joseph  acted  as 
negotiator,  and  on  the  30th  of  September 
1800,  a  convention  was  entered  into,  to  sub- 
sist for  the  space  of  eight  years,  agreeing 
on  certain  modifications  of  the  right  of 
search,  declaring  that  commerce  should  be 
free  between  the  countries,  and  that  the 
captures  on  either  side,  excepting  such  as 
were  contraband,  and  destined  for  an  ene- 
my's harbour,  should  be  mutually  restored. 
Thus  Buonaparte  restored  peace  between 
France  and  the  United  States,  and  pre- 
vented the  latter,  in  all  probability,  from 
throwing  themselves  into  a  closer  union 
with  Britain,  to  which  their  common  de- 
•cent,  with  the  similarity  of  manners,  lan- 
guage, and  laws,  overcoming  the  recollec- 
tion of  recent  hostilities,  might  have  other- 
wise strongly  inclined  them. 

Still  more  important  results  were  derived 
by  Napoleon,  from  the  address  and  political 
sagacity,  with  whicli,  in  accommodating 
matters  witii  the  court  of  Naples,  he  con- 
trived to  form  what  finally  became  a  strong 
and  predominating  interest  in  the  councils, 
and  even  the  affections  of  a  monarch,  whose 
amity  was,  of  all  others,  the  most  impor- 
tant to  his  plans.  The  prince  alluded  to 
was  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  who  had  been, 
during  the  preceding  year,  the  most  formi- 
dable and  successful  enemy  encountered 
by  France  since  her  revolution.  A  short 
resumption  of  ficts  is  necessary,  to  under- 
stand the  circumstances  in  which  the  nego- 
tiation with  Naples  originated. 

When  Buonaparte  departed  for  F.gypt, 
."ill  Italy,  excepting  Tuscany,  and  the  do- 
minions assigned  to  Austria  bv  the  trenty 
of  Campo  Formio,  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
French  ;  while  Naples  was  govcriK'd  bv 
the  ephemeral  Partlienopean  Repuhlic,  and 
the  city  of  the  Popes  by  that  which  assum- 
ed the  superb  title  of  Roman.  Tliese  au- 
thorities, however,  were  only  nomiral ;  tlio 
French  generals  exercised  the  real  authori- 
ty in  both  countries.  Suddenly,  and  as  if 
by  magic,  the  whole  state  of  affairs  was 
•hanged  by  the  military  talents  of  Suwa"" 


row.  The  Austrians  and  Russians  gained 
great  successes  in  the  north  of  Italy,  and 
General  Macdonald  found  himself  obliged 
to  evacuate  Naples,  and  to  concentrate  the 
principal  resistance  of  the  French  in  Lcra- 
bardy  and  Piedmont.  Cardinal  Ruftb.  a 
soldier,  churchman,  and  politician,  put  him 
self  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  body  of  in- 
surgents, and  commenced  war  against  such 
French  troops  as  had  been  left  in  the  south 
and  in  the  middle  of  Italy.  This  move- 
ment was  actively  supported  by  the  British 
fleet.  Lord  Nelson  recovered  Naples ; 
Rome  surrendered  to  Commodore  Trow- 
bridge. Thus  the  Parthenopean  and  Ro- 
man republics  were  extinguished  for  ever. 
The  royal  family  returned  to  Naples,  and 
that  fine  city  and  country  were  once  more  a 
kingdom,  Rome,  the  capital  of  the  world, 
was  occupied  by  Neapolitan  troops,  gener- 
ally supposed  the  most  indifferent  of  mod- 
ern times. 

Replaced  in  his  richest  territories  by  the 
allies,  the  King  of  Naples  was  bound  by 
every  tie  to  assist  them  in  the  campaign  of 
1800,  He  accordingly  sent  an  army  into 
the  March  of  Ancona,  under  the  command 
of  Count  Roger  de  Damas,  who.  with  the 
assistance  of  insurrectionary  forces*  among 
the  inhabitants,  and  a  body  of  Austrians, 
w-.'.s  to  clear  Tuscany  of  the  French,  Un- 
deterred by  the  battle  of  Marengo,  the 
Count  de  Damas  marched  against  the  French 
general  Miohis,  who  commanded  in  Tusca- 
ny, and  sustained  a  defeat  by  him  near  Si- 
enna. Retreat  became  now  necessary,  the 
more  especially  as  the  armistice  which  was 
entered  into  by  General  Melas  deprived 
the  Neapolitans  of  any  assistance  from  the 
.Vustrians,  and  rendered  their  whole  expe- 
dition utterly  hopeless.  They  were  not 
even  included  by  name  in  the  armistice, 
and  were  thus  left  exposed  to  the  whole 
vengeance  of  the  French.  Damas  retreat- 
ed into  the  territories  of  the  Church,  which 
were  still  occupied  by  the  Neapolitan  forc- 
es. The  consequence  of  these  events  was 
easily  foreseen.  The  Neapolitan  troops,  so 
soon  as  the  French  could  find  leisure  to 
look  towards  them,  must  be  either  destroy- 
ed entirely,  or  driven  back  upon  Naples, 
and  that  city  must  be  again  forsaken  by  the 
royal  family,  happy  if  they  were  once  more- 
able  to  make  their  escape  to  Sicily,  as  on 
the  former  occasion, 

.At  this  desperate  crisis,  the  Queen  of 
the  two  Sicilies  took  a  resolution  which 
seemed  almost  as  desperate,  and  could  on- 
)y  have  been  adopted  by  a  woman  of  a  bold 
and  decisive  character.  She  resolved,  not- 
withstanding the  severity  of  the  season,  to 
repair  in  person  to  the  court  of  the  Empe- 
ror Paul,  and  implore  his  intercession  with 
the  First  Consul,  in  behalf  of  her  husband 
and  his  territories. 

We  have  not  hitherto  mentioned,  except 
rursorilv,  tiie  powerful  prince  whose  me- 
diation she  implored.    The  son  and  succes- 

'  *  These  were,  at  this  period,  easily  raised  in  any 
part  of  Italy.  The  exactions  of  the  French  had 
entirely  alienated  the  affections  of  the  natives, 
who  had  long  since  seen  through  their  pretexts  uf 
flording  thetn  the  benefit  of  a  free  goveinnient. 


348 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.    [Chap.  XXXVm. 


Bor  of  the  celebrated  Catherine,  far  from 
poeaessing  the  prudence  and  political  sa- 
gacity of  his  mother,  seemed  rather  to  dis- 
play the  heady  passions  and  imperfect  judg- 
ment of  his  unfortunate  father.  He  was 
capricious  in  the  choice  of  his  objects,  pur- 
suing for  the  time,  with  uncommon  and  ir- 
regular zeal  and  pertinacity,  projects  which 
he  afterwards  discarded  and  abandoned, 
swelling  trifles  of  dress  or  behaviour  into 
matters  of  importance,  and  neglecting,  on 
the  other  hand,  what  was  of  real  conse- 
quence ;— governed,  in  short,  rather  by  im- 
agination than  by  his  reasoning  qualities, 
and  sometimes  affording  room  to  believe 
that  he  actually  laboured  under  a  partial 
aberration  of  mind.  Such  characters  are 
often  to  be  met  with  in  private  society,  the 
restraints  of  which  keep  them  within  such 
limits,  that  they  pass  through  life  without 
attracting  much  notice,  unless  when  creat- 
ing a  little  mirth,  or  giving  rise  to  some 
passing  wonder.  But  an  absolute  prince, 
possessed  of  such  a  disposition,  is  like  a 
giddy  person  placed   on  the   verge   of   a 

Srecipice,  which  would  try  the  soundest 
ead,  and  must  overpower  a  weak  one. 

The  Emperor  had  first  distinguished  him- 
self by  an  energetic  defence  of  the  rights 
of  sovereigns,  and  a  hatred  of  whatever 
belonged  to  or  was  connected  with  the 
French  Revolution,  from  a  political  max- 
im to  the  shape  of  a  coat  or  a  hat.  The 
brother  of  Louis  XVI.,  and  inheritor  of  his 
rights,  found  a  refuge  in  the  Russian  do- 
minions j  and  Paul,  fond,  as  most  princes 
are,  of  military  glory,  promised  himself 
that  of  restoring  the  Bourbon  dynasty  by 
force  of  arms. 

The  train  of  victories  acquired  by  Su war- 
row  was  well  calculated  to  foster  these 
original  partialities  of  the  Emperor ;  and, 
accordingly,  while  success  continued  to 
wait  on  his  banners,  he  loaded  his  (general 
with  marks  of  his  regard,  elevated  him  to 
the  rank  of  a  prince,  and  conferred  on  him 
the  title  of  Italinsky,  or  Italicus. 

The  very  first  and  only  misfortune  which 
befell  Suwarrow,  seems  to  have  ruined  him 
in  the  opinion  of  his  capricious  master. 
The  defeat  of  Korsakow  by  Massena,  near 
Zurich,  had  involved  Suwarrow  in  great 
momentary  danger,  as  he  advanced  into 
Switzerland,  reckoning  on  the  support  of 
that  general,  whose  disaster  left  his  right 
uncovered.  Now,  .although  Suwarrow  sav- 
ed his  army  on  this  occasion  by  a  retreat, 
which  required  talent  equal  to  that  which 
achieved  his  numerous  victories,  yet  the 
bare  fact  of  his  having  received  a  check, 
was  sufficient  to  ruin  him  with  his  liaughty 
sovereign.  Paul  was  yet  more  offended 
with  the  conduct  of  the  Austrians.  The 
Archduke  Charles  having  left  Switzerland 
to  descend  into  Germany,  had  given  occa- 
sion and  opportunity  for  Massena  to  cross 
the  Limmat  and  surprise  Korsakow ;  and 
this,  notwithstanding  every  explanation  and 
acology,  rankled  in  the  mind  of  the  Czar. 
He  recalled  his  armies  from  the  frontiers 
af  Germany,  and  treated  his  veteran  and 
tictorious  general  with  such  marka  of  neg- 


lect and  displeasure,  that  the  old  man's 
heart  sunk  under  them. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Paul  gathered  up  far- 
ther subjects  of  complaint  against  the  Aus- 
trian government,  and  complained  of  their 
having  neglected  to  provide  for  some  Rus- 
sian prisoners,  under  a  capitulation  which 
they  made  in  behalf  of  their  own,  at  the 
surrender  of  Ancona  to  the  French. 

The  Austrians  could  not  afford  to  lose  so 
powerful  and  efficient  an  ally  in  the  day  of 
their  adversity.  They  endeavoured  to  ex- 
plain, that  the  movement  of  the  Archduke 
Charles  was  inevitably  necessary,  in  conse- 
quence of  an  invasion  of  the  Austrian  ter- 
ritory— they  laid  the  blame  of  the  omission 
of  the  Russians  in  the  capitulation  upon  the 
commandant  FroElich,  and  offered  to  place 
him  under  arrest.  The  Emperor  of  Austria 
even  proposed,  in  despite  of  the  natural 
pride  which  is  proper  to  his  distinguished 
House,  to  place  Suwarrow  at  the  head  of 
the  Austrian  armies, — a  proffer  which,  if  it 
had  been  accepted,  might  have  given  rise 
to  an  extraordinary  struggle  betwixt  the  ex- 
perience, determination,  and  warlike  skill 
of  the  veteran  Scythian,  and  the  formidable 
talents  of  Buonaparte,  and  which  perhaps 
offered  the  only  chance  which  Europe  pos- 
sessed at  the  time,  of  opposing  to  the  latter 
a  rival  worthy  of  himself;  for  Suwarrow 
had  never  yet  been  conquered,  and  possess- 
ed an  irresistible  influence  over  the  minds 
of  his  soldiers.  These  great  generals,  how- 
ever, were  not  destined  ever  to  decide  the 
fate  of  the  world  by  their  meeting. 

Suwarrow,  a  Russian  in  all  his  feelings^ 
broke  his  heart,  and  died  under  the  unmer- 
ited displeasure  of  his  Emperor,  whom  he 
had  served  with  so  much  fidelity.  If  the 
memory  of  his  unfortunate  sovereign  were 
to  be  judged  of  according  to  ordinary  rules, 
his  conduct  towards  his  distinguished  sub- 
ject would  have  left  on  it  an  indelible  stig- 
ma. As  it  is,  the  event  must  pass  as  an- 
other proof,  that  the  Emperor  Paul  was  not 
amenable,  from  the  construction  of  his  un- 
derstanding and  temperament,  to  the  ordi- 
nary rules  of  censure. 

Meanwhile,  the  proposals  of  Austria  were 
in  vain.  The  Czar  was  not  to  be  brought 
back  to  his  former  sentiments.  He  was 
like  a  spoiled  child,  who,  tired  of  his  fa- 
vourite toy,  seems  bent  to  break  asunder 
and  destroy  what  was  lately  the  dearest  ob- 
ject of  his  affection. 

When  such  a  character  as  Paul  changes 
his  opinion  of  his  friends,  he  generally  runs 
into  the  opposite  extreme,  and  alters  also 
his  thoughts  of  his  enemies.  Like  his  fa- 
ther, and  others  whose  imagination  is  indif- 
ferently regulated,  the  Czar  had  need  of 
some  one  of  whom  to  make  his  idol.  The 
extravagant  .admiration  which  the  Emperor 
Peter  felt  for  Frederick  of  Prussia,  could 
not  well  be  entertained  for  any  one  now 
alive,  unless  it  were  the  First  Consul  of 
France ;  and  on  him,  therefore,  Paul  was 
now  disposed  to  turn  his  eyes  with  a  mix- 
ture of  wonder,  and  of  a  wish  to  imitate 
what  he  wondered  at.  This  extravagance 
of  admiration  is  a  passion  natural  to  sooM 


Chap.  XXXVIIL]     LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


349 


minds,  (never  strong  ones,)  and  may  be 
compared  to  that  tendency  which  others 
have  t9  be  in  love  all  their  lives,  in  defiance 
of  advancing  age  and  other  obstacles. 

When  Paul  was  beginning  to  entertain 
this  humour,  the  arrival  of  the  Queen  of 
Sicily  at  his  court  gave  him  a  graceful  and 
even  dignified  opportunity  to  approach  to- 
wards a  connexion  with  Napoleon  Buona- 
parte. His  pride,  too,  must  have  been  grat- 
ified by  seeing  the  daughter  of  the  renown- 
ed Maria  Theresa,  the  sister  of  the  Empe- 
ror of  Austria,  at  his  court  of  St.  Peters- 
burgh,  soliciting  from  the  Czar  of  Russia 
the  protection  which  her  brother  was  total- 
ly unable  to  afford  her ;  and  a  successful  in- 
terference in  her  behalf  would  be  a  kind  of 
insult  to  the  misfortunes  of  that  brother, 
against  whom,  as  we  have  noticed,  Paul 
nourished  resentful  feelings.  He  there- 
fore resolved  to  open  a  communication  with 
France,  in  behalf  of  the  royal  family  of  Na- 
ples. Lewinshoff,  Grand  Huntsman  of  Rus- 
sia, was  despatched  to  make  the  overtures 
of  mediation.  He  was  received  with  the 
utmost  distinction  at  Paris,  and  Buonaparte 
made  an  instant  and  graceful  concession  to 
the  request  of  the  Emperor  Paul.  The  First 
Consul  agreed  to  suspend  his  military  opera- 
tions against  Naples,  and  to  leave  the  royal 
family  in  possession  of  their  sovereignty  ; 
reserving  to  himself,  however,  the  right  of 
dictating  the  terms  under  which  he  was  to 
grant  them  such  an  amnesty. 

It  was  time  that  some  effectual  interposi- 
tion should  take  place  in  defence  of  the 
King  of  Naples,  who,  though  he  had  around 
him  a  nation  individually  brave  and  enthu- 
siastic, was  so  ill-served,  that  his  regular 
army  was  in  the  worst  and  most  imperfect 
state  of  discipline.  Murat,  to  whom  Buon- 
aparte had  committed  the  task  of  executing 
his  vengeance  on  Naples,  had  already  cross- 
ed the  Alps,  and  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  an  .army  often  thousand  chosen  men;  a 
force  then  judged  sufficient  not  only  to  drive 
the  Neapolitian  general  Damas  out  of  the 
Ecclesiastical  States,  but  to  pursue  him  as 
far  as  Naples,  and  occupy  that  beautiful  cap- 
ital of  a  prince ,  whose  regular  army  con- 
sisted of  more  than  thirty  thousand  soldiers, 
and  whose  irregular  forces  might  have  been 
increased  to  any  number  by  the  mountain- 
eers of  Calabria,  who  form  excellent  light 
troops,  and  by  the  numerous  Lazzai'oni  of 
Naples,  who  had  displayed  their  valour 
acaiost  Championet,  upon  the  first  invasion 
of  the  French.  But  the  zeal  of  a  nation  ' 
avails  little  when  the  spirit  of  the  govern- 
ment bears  no  proportion  to  it.  The  gov- 
ernment of  Naples  dreaded  the  approach  of 
Murat  as  that  of  the  Angel  of  Death  ;  and 
they  received  the  news  that  Lewinshoff  had 
joined  the  French  general  at  Florence,  as  a 
condemned  criminal  might  have  heard  the 
news  of  a  reprieve.  The  Russian  envoy 
was  received  with  distinguished  honours  at 
Florence.  Murat  appeared  at  the  theatre 
with  Lewinshoff,  where  the  Jtalians,  who 
had  so  lately  seen  the  Russia'n  and  French 
banners  placed  in  bloody  opposition  to  each 
other,  now  beheld  them  formally  united  in 
jireaeQce  of  Uiese  dignitaries ;  in  sign,  it 


was  said,  that  the  two  nations  were  com- 
bined for  the  peace  of  the  world  and  gener- 
al benefit  of  humanity.  Untimely  augury ! 
How  often  after  that  period  did  these  stand- 
ards meet  in  the  bloodiest  fields  history 
ever  recorded ;  and  what  a  long  and  despe- 
rate struggle  was  yet  in  reserve  ere  the  gen- 
eral peace  so  boldly  predicted  was  at  length 
restored ! 

The  respect  paid  by  the  First  Consul  to 
the  wishes  of  Paul,  saved  for  the  present 
the  royal  family  of  Naples  ;  but  Murat,  nev- 
ertheless, made  them  experience  a  full  por- 
tion of  the  bitter  cup  which  the  vanquished 
are  generally  doomed  to  swallow.  General 
Damas  was  commanded  in  the  haughtiest 
terms  to  evacuate  the  Roman  States,  and 
not  to  presume  to  claim  any  benefit  from 
the  armistice  which  had  been  extended  to 
the  Austrians.  At  the  same  time,  while 
the  Neapolitans  were  thus  compelled  hasti- 
ly to  evacuate  the  Roman  territories,  gen- 
eral surprise  was  exhibited,  when,  instead 
of  marching  to  Rome,  and  re-establishing 
the  authority  of  the  Roman  Republic,  Mu- 
rat, according  to  the  orders  which  he  had 
received  from  the  First  Consul,  carefully 
respected  the  territory  of  the  Church,  and 
reinstalled  the  officers  of  the  Pope  in  what 
had  been  long  termed  the  patrimony  of  St. 
Peter's.  This  unexpected  turn  of  circum- 
stances originated  in  high  policy  on  the 
part  of  Buonaparte. 

We  certainly  do  Napoleon  no  injustice  in 
supposing,  that  personally  he  had  little  or 
no  influential  sense  of  religion.  Some  ob- 
scure yet  rooted  doctrines  of  fatality,  seem, 
so  far  as  we  can  judge,  to  have  formed  the 
extent  of  his  metaphysical  creed.  We  can 
scarce  term  him  even  a  deist;  and  he  was 
an  absolute  stranger  to  every  modificatioa 
of  Christian  belief  and  worship.  But  he 
saw  and  valued  the  use  of  a  uational  reli- 
gion as  an  engine  of  state  policy.  In  Egypt 
he  was  desirous  ofbeing  thought  an  envoy  of 
Heaven  ;  and  though  uncircumcised,  drink- 
ing wine  and  eating  pork,  still  claimed  to  be 
accounted  a  follower  of  the  laws  of  the  Pro- 
phet. He  had  pathetically  expostulated  with 
the  Turks  on  their  hostility  towards  him. 
The  French,  he  said,  had  ceased  to  be  follow- 
ers of  Jesus ;  and  now  that  they  were  almost, 
if  not  altogether,  Moslemah,  would  the 
true  believers  make  war  on  those  who  had 
overthrown  the  cross,  dethroned  the  Pope, 
and  extirpated  the  order  of  Malta,  the  sworn 
persecutors  of  the  Moslem  faith  ?  On  hia 
return  to  France,  all  this  was  to  be  forgot- 
ten, or  only  remembered  as  a  trick  played 
upon  the  infidels.  He  was,  as  we  have  said, 
aware  of  the  necessity  of  a  national  faith 
to  support  the  civil  government ;  and  as, 
while  in  Egypt,  he  affected  to  have  destroy- 
ed the  Catholic  religion  in  honour  of  that 
of  Mahommed,  so,  returned  to  Europe,  be 
was  now  desirous  to  become  the  restorer 
of  the  temporal  territories  of  the  Pope,  in 
order  to  obtain  such  a  settlement  of  church 
affairs  in  France,  as  mi^jht  procure  for  hia 
own  government  the  countenance  of  tha 
Sovereign  Pontiff,  and  for  himself  an  admis- 
sion into  the  pale  of  Christian  prince*. 
This  restitution  was  in  some  measure  coa 


350 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.     [Chap.  XXX  VIH. 


eistent  with  his  policy  in  1798,  when  he  had 
spared  the  temporalities  of  the  Holy  See. 
Totally  indifferent  as  Napoleon  was  to  re- 
ligion in  his  personal  capacity,  his  whole 
conduct  shows  his  sense  of  its  importance 
to  the  existence  of  a  settled  and  peaceful 
state  of  society. 

Besides  evacuating  the  Ecclesiastical 
States,  the  Neapolitans  were  compelled  by 
Murat  to  restore  various  paintings,  statues, 
and  other  objects  of  art,  which  they  had,  in 
imitation  of  Buonaparte,  taken  forcibly  from 
the  Romans, — so  captivating  is  the  influ- 
ence of  bad  example.  A  French  army  <if 
about  eighteen  thousand  men  was  to  be 
quartered  in  Calabria,  less  for  the  purpose 
of  enforcing  the  conditions  of  peace,  than 
to  save  France  the  expense  of  supporting 
the  troops,  and  to  have  them  stationed 
•where  they  might  be  embarked  for  Egypt 
at  the  shortest  notice.  The  harbours  of  the 
Neapolitan  dominions  were  of  course  to  be 
closed  against  the  English.  A  cession  of 
part  of  the  isle  of  Elba,  and  the  relinquish- 
ment of  all  pretensions  upon  Tuscany,  sum- 
med up  the  sacrifices  of  ihe  King  of  Naples, 
who,  considering  how  often  he  had  braved 
Napoleon,  had  great  reason  to  thauk  tlie 
Emperor  of  Russia  for  his  effectual  media- 
tion in  his  favour. 

These  various  measures  respecting  for- 
eign relations,  the  treaty  of  Luneville,  the 
acquisition  of  the  good-will  of  the  Empe- 
ror Paul,  the  restoration  of  Rome  to  the 
Pope's  authority,  and  the  mildness  of  the 
penalty  inflicted  on  the  King  of  Naples, 
seemed  all  to  spring  from  asouncl  and  mod- 
erate system,  the  object  of  which  was  rath- 
er the  consolidation  of  Napoleon's  govern- 
ment, than  any  wish  to  extend  its  influence 
or  its  conquests.  His  plans,  in  after  times, 
often  exhibited  a  mixture  of  the  greatest 
good  sense  and  prudence,  with  rash  and 
splenetic  explosions  of  an  over-eager  ambi- 
tion, or  a  temper  irritated  by  opposition ; 
but  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  Buonaparte 
was  not  yet  so  firm  in  the  authority  which 
he  had  but  just  acquired,  as  to  encourage 
any  display  of  the  infirmities  of  his  mind 
and  temper. 

His  behaviour  towards  Portugal  was, 
however,  of  a  character  deviating  from  the 
moderation  he  had  in  general  displayed. 
Portugal,  the  ancient  and  faithful  ally  of 
England,  was  on  that  account  the  especial 
object  of  the  First  Consul's  displeasure. 
He,  therefore,  demanded  of  the  King  of 
Spain,  who,  since  the  peace  between  the 
countries,  hud  been  the  submissive  vassal 
of  France,  to  declare  war  on  the  Prince 
Regent  of  Portugal,  although  the  husband 
of  his  daughter.  War  accordingly  was  de- 
clared, in  obedience  to  the  mandate  of  the 
First  Consul,  and  the  Spanish  armies,  to- 
gether with  an  auxiliary  army  of  French 
under  Leclerc,  entered  Portugal,  took  Oli- 
venza  and  Almeida,  and  compelled  the 
Prince  Regent,  6th  of  June,  1801,  to  sign  a 
treaty,  engaging  to  shut  his  ports  against 
the  English,  and  surrendering  to  Spain,  Oli- 
venza,  and  other  places  on  the  frontier  of 
the  Guadiana.  Buonaparte  was  highly  dis- 
contented with  this  treaty,  to  which  he 


would  not  accede ;  and  he  refused,  at  the 
same  time,  to  withdraw  from  Spain  the  ar- 
my of  Leclerc.  On  the  29th  September, 
lie  condescended  to  grant  Portugal  peace 
under  some  additional  terms,  which  were 
not  in  themselves  of  much  consequence, 
although  the  overbearing  and  peremptory 
conduct  which  he  exhibited  towards  the 
peninsular  powers,  was  a  sign  of  the  dicta- 
torial spirit  which  he  was  prepared  to  as- 
sume in  the  affairs  of  Europe. 

The  same  disposition  was  manifested  in 
the  mode  by  which  Buonaparte  was  pleased 
to  show  his  sense  of  the  King  of  Spain's 
complaisance.  He  chose  for  that  purpose 
to  create  a  kingdom  and  a  king — a  king,  too. 
of  the  house  of  Bourbon.  An  Infant  oi 
Spain  obtained  the  throne  of  Tuscany,  un- 
der the  name  of  Etruria,  rent  from  the  house 
of  Austria.  Madame  de  Stael  terms  this 
the  commencement  of  the  great  masquerade 
of  Europe  ;  but  it  was  more  properly  the 
second  act.  The  stage,  during  the  first,  was 
occupied  by  a  quadrille  of  republics  who 
were  now  to  be  replaced  by  an  anti-mask 
of  kings.  This  display  of  power  pleased 
the  national  vanity,  and  an  uproar  of  ap- 
plause ensued,  while  the  audience  at  the 
theatre  applied  to  Buonaparte  the  well- 
known  line — 

"  J'ai  fait  dcs  rois,  madame,  et  n'ai  pas  vou)« 

I'etre." 

While  all  the  continent  appeared  thus 
v.'illing  to  submit  to  one  so  ready  to  avail 
himself  of  their  subjectioi,  Britain  alone 
remained  at  war  ;  without  allies,  %vithout,  it 
might  seem,  a  direct  object ;  yet  on  the 
grand  and  unalterable  principle,  that  no 
partial  distress  should  induce  her  to  submit 
to  the  system  of  degradation,  which  seem- 
ed preparing  for  all  nations  under  the  yoke 
of  France,  and  which  had  placed  France 
herself,  with  all  her  affected  zeal  for  liber- 
ty, under  the  government  of  an  arbitrary 
ruler.  On  every  point  the  English  squad- 
rons annihilated  the  commerce  of  France, 
crippled  her  revenues,  blockaded  her  ports, 
and  prevented  those  combinations  which 
would  have  crowned  the  total  conquest  of 
Europe,  could  the  Master,  as  he  might  now 
be  called,  of  the  Jjand,  have  enjoyed  at  the 
same  time,  the  facilities  which  can  only  be 
afforded  by  communication  by  sea. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Buonaparte,  who,  be- 
sides his  natural  hardiness  of  perseverance, 
connected  a  part  of  his  own  glory  with  the 
preservation  of  Egypt,  endeavoured  by  va- 
rious means  to  send  supplies  to  that  distant 
province.  His  convoys  were  driven  back 
into  harbour  by  the  English  fleets  ;  and  he 
directed  against  his  admirals,  who  could 
not  achieve  impossibilities,  the  unavailing 
resentment  natural  to  one  whp  was  so  little 
accustomed  to  disappointment,' 

T!ie  chance  of  relieving  Egypt  was  ren- 
dered yet  more  precarious  by  the  loss  of 
Malta,  whichjfcafter  a  distressing  blockade 
of  two  years,  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the 
English  arms  on  the  5th  of  September  J 800. 
The  English  were  thus  in  possession  of  a 
strong,  and  almost  impregnable  citadel,  i«. 


Chap.  XXXIX.]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


351 


the  midat  of  the  Mediterranean,  with  an 
excellent  harbour,  and  everything  required 
for  a  naval  station  of  the  first  importance  ; 
above  all,  they  had  obtained  the  very  spot 
which  Buonaparte  had  fixed  upon  for 
maintaining  the  communication  with  Egypt, 
which  was  now  in  greater  danger  than 
ever. 

The  capture  of  Malta  was,  however,  by 
its  consequences,  favourable  to  Napoleon's 
views  in  one  important  respect.  The  Em- 
peror Paul  imagined  he  had  rights  upon  that 
island,  iu  consequence  of  his  having  declar- 


ed himself  Grand  Master  of  the  Order  of 
Saint  John  ;  and  although,  by  his  deserting 
the  coalition,  and  abandoning  the  common 
cause,  he  had  lost  all  right  to  expect  that 
Great  Britain  should  surrender  to  him  an 
important  acquisition  made  by  her  own 
arms,  yet,  with  his  usual  intemperate  in- 
dulgence of  passion,  he  conceived  himself 
deeply  injured  by  its  being  withheld,  and 
nourished  from  that  time  an  implacable  re- 
sentment against  England  and  her  govern- 
ment, the  effects  of  which  are  afterwards  to 
be  traced. 


CHAP.  XXXIX. 

Internal  Government  of  France. — General  attachment  to  the  Chief  Consul,  though  the 
two  Factions  of  Republicans  and  Royalists  are  hostile  to  him. — Plot  of  the  former  to 
remove  him  by  Assassination — Defeated. —  Vain  hopes  of  the  Royalists,  that  Napole- 
on would  be  the  instrument  of  restoring  the  Bourbons — Applications  to  him  for  that 
effect  disappointed — Royalists  methodize  the  Plot  of  the  Infernal  Machine — Descrip- 
tion of  it — It  fails. — Suspicion  first  falls  on  the  Republicans,  and  a  decree  of  trans- 
portation is  passed  against  a  great  number  of  their  Chiefs — but  is  not  carried  into  ex- 
ecution.—  The  actual  Conspirators  tried  and  executed. —  Use  made  by  Buonuparte  of 
the  Conspiracy  to  consolidate  Despotism. —  Various  Measures  devised  for  that  purpose. 
— System  of  the  Police. — Fouclie — His  Skill,  Influence,  and  Power. — Napoleon  be- 
comes jealous  of  him,  and  organizes  measures  of  precaution  against  him. — Apprehen- 
sion entertained  by  the  Chief  Consul  of  the  effects  of  Literature,  and  his  efforts  against 
it. — Persecution  of  Madame  de  Stael. —  The  Concordat — Various  Views  taken  of 
that  Pleasure. — Plan  for  a  general  System  of  Jurisprudence. — Amnesty  granted  to  the 
Emigrants. — Plans  of  Public  Education. — Other  Plans  of  Improvement. — Hopes  of 
a  General  Peace. 


We  return  to  the  internal  government  of 
France  under  the  Chief  Consul. 

The  events  subsequent  to  the  revolution 
of  the  18th  Brumaire,  seemed  to  work  a 
miraculous  change  on  the  French  nation. 
The  superior  talents  of  Napoleon,  with  the 
policy  exercised  by  Talleyrand  and  Fouche, 
and  the  other  statesmen  of  ability  whom  he 
had  called  into  administration,  and  who  de- 
sired at  all  events  to  put  an  end  to  further 
revolutionary  movements — but,  above  all, 
the  victory  of  Marengo,  had  at  once  creat- 
ed and  attached  to  the  person  of  the  Chief 
Consul  an  immense  party,  which  might  be 
said  to  comprehend  all  those,  who,  being 
neither  decided  Royalists  nor  determined 
Republicans,  were  indifferent  about  the 
form  of  the  government,  so  they  found  ease 
and  protection  while  living  under  it. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  heads  of  the 
two  factions  continued  to  exist;  and  as  the 
power  of  the  First  Consul  became  at  once 
more  absolute  and  more  consolidated,  it 
1,'rew  doubly  hateful  and  formidable  to  them. 
His  political  existence  was  a  total  obstruc- 
tion to  the  system,  of  both  parties,  and  yet 
one  which  it  was  impossible  to  remove. 
Tlieire  was  no  national  council  left,  in 
which  the  authority  of  the  First  Consul 
could  be  disputed,  or  his  measures  im- 
peached. The  strength  of  his  military 
power  bid  defiance  alike  to  popular  commo- 
tions, if  the  Democrats  had  yet  possessed 
the  means  of  exerting  them,  and  to  the 
scattered  bands  of  the  Royalist  insurgents. 
What  chance  remained  for  ridding  tlieni- 
aelves  of  the  autocrat,  in  whom  the  Ro- 
publicani  saw  a  dictator,  the  Royalists  an 


usurper  ?  None,  save  that,  being  mortal.  Na- 
poleon was  subject  to  be  taken  off  by  assas- 
sination. 

The  Democrats  were  naturally  the  first 
to  meditate  an  enterprise  of  this  nature. 
The  right  of  taking  off  a  tyrant  was,  accord- 
ing to  their  creed,  as  proper  to  any  private 
citizen  as  to  those  who  opposed  him  armed 
in  the  field.  The  act  of  Harmodius  and 
Aristogiton — the  noble  deed  of  Brutus  and 
his  associates — were  consecrated  in  history, 
and  esteemed  so  congenial  to  the  nature  of 
a  free  constitution,  that  the  Convention,  oa 
the  motion  of  Jean  de  Brie,  had  at  one  time 
determined  to  raise  a  legion  of  assassins 
armed  with  poniards,  who  should  devote 
themselves  to  the  pious  task  of  exterminat- 
ing all  foreign  princes,  statesmen,  and  min- 
isters— in  short,  all  who  were  accounted  the 
foes  of  freedom,  without  pity  or  distinction. 
In  a  party  entertaining  such  principles, 
there  could  be  no  scruple  on  the  score  of 
morality  ;  and  where  they  ha(|  been  so  late- 
ly professed  by  thousands,  it  seemed  natu- 
ral that,  amid  the  multitude,  they  must  have 
made  a  deep  impression  on  some  enthusi- 
astic and  gloomy  disposition,  which  might 
be  easily  provoked  to  act  upon  them. 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  some  ob- 
scure Jacobins  should  have  early  nourished 
th6  purpose  of  assassinating  Napoleon,  as 
the  enemy  of  his  country's  freedom,  and 
the  destroyer  of  her  liberties  •,  but  it  is  sin- 
gular, that  most  of  the  conspirators  against 
his  person  were  Italians,  .\rena,  brother 
of  the  deputy  who  was  said  to  have  aimed  a 
lia^ger  at  Buonaparte  in  the  Council  of  Five 
Hundred,  was  at  the  head  of  tlie  conspira- 


352 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXIX. 


cy.  He  was  a  Corsican.  With  him,  Ce- 
raschi  and  Diana,  two  Italian  refugees  ;  a 
painter,  called  Topino  Lebrun  ;  and  two  or 
three  enthusiasts  of  low  condition,  formed 
a  plot  for  the  purpose  of  assassinating  the 
Chief  Consul  at  the  Opera-house.  Their 
intention  was  detected  by  the  police  ;  Ce- 
rascbi  and  Diana  were  arrested  behind  the 
scenes,  armed,  it  was  said,  and  prepared  for 
the  attempt,  and  Napoleon  was  congratulat- 
ed by  most  of  the  constituted  authorities 
apon  having  escaped  a  great  danger. 

Crassous,  President  of  the  Tribunate, 
made  a  singular  speech  on  the  occasion, 
which  would  almost  bear  a  double  interpre- 
tation. "  There  had  been  so  many  conspir- 
acies," he  said,  "  at  so  many  different  pe- 
riods, and  under  so  many  different  pretexts, 
which  had  never  been  followed  up  either 
by  inquiry  or  punishment,  that  a  great  num- 
ber of  good  citizens  had  become  sceptical 
on  the  subject  of  their  existence.  This  in- 
credulity was  dangerous,"  he  argued ;  "  it 
was  time  it  should  be  ended."  With  this 
view.  Monsieur  Crassous  recommended, 
that  the  persons  guilty  on  the  present  oc- 
casion should  be  prosecuted  and  punished 
with  all  the  solemnity  and  rigour  of  the 
laws. 

Buonaparte  replied,  with  military  indiffer- 
ence, that  he  had  been  in  no  real  danger. 
"  The  contemptible  wretches,"  he  said,  in 
something  like  a  renewal  of  his  R^'yptian 
vein,  "  had  no  power  to  commit  the  crime 
they  meditated.  Besides  the  assistance  df 
the  whole  audience,  I  had  with  me  a  piquet 
of  my  brave  guard,  irom  whom  the  wretch- 
es could  not  have  borne  a  look."  .So  end- 
ed this  singular  discourse  ;  and  it  is  re- 
markable that  neither  were  the  circumstan- 
ces of  the  plot  made  public,  nor  the  con- 
spirators punished,  till  the  more  memorable 
attempt  on  Napoleon's  life  by  the  Royalists. 
The  Royalists,  as  a  party,  had  far  more 
interest  with  Buonaparte  than  the  Demo- 
crats. The  former  approved  of  the  princi- 
ples and  form  of  his  government, — it  was 
only  necessary  for  their  conversion,  that 
they  should  learn  to  endure  his  person ; 
whereas  the  Jacobins  being  equally  averse 
to  the  office  to  which  he  aspired,  to  his 
power,  and  to  himself,  there  were  no  hopes 
of  their  being  brought  to  tolerate  either  the 
monarch  or  the  man.  Of  the  latter,  there- 
fore, Napoleon  entertained  equal  dislike 
and  distrust;  while,  from  obvious  causes, 
his  feelings  towards  the  former  were  in 
some  measure  friendly. 

The  Royalists,  too,  for  some  time  enter- 
tained a  good  opinion  of  Buonaparte,  and 
conceived  that  he  intended,  in  his  own 
time  and  his  own  way,  to  act  in  behalf  of 
the  exiled  royal  family.  The  enthusiastic 
of  the  party  were  at  a  loss  to  conceive  that 
the  throne  of  France  should  be  again  erect- 
ed, and  that  any  one  but  a  Bourbon  shoukl 
dare  to  ascend  it.  It  seemed  to  them  im- 
possible that  the  monarchy  should  revive 
without  the  restoration  of  the  legitimate 
monarch,  and  they  could  not  believe  that  a 
Corsican  soldier  of  fortune  would  meditate 
an  usurpation,  or  that  France  would  be  for 
a  moment  tolerant  of  his  pretensions.     The 


word  liberty  had,  indeed,  misled  the  people 
of  France  for  a  time,  but,  that  illusion  be- 
ing dissipated,  their  natural  love  to  the  roy- 
al race  would  return  like  a  reviving  spring, 
and  again  run  in  its  old  channel. 

So  geiier.al  was  the  belief  among  this 
class,  that  Buonaparte  meditated  the  resto- 
ration of  the  Bourbons,  that  several  agents 
of  the  family  made  their  way  so  far  as  to 
sound  his  own  mind  upon  the  subject. 
Louis  himself,  afterwards  XVIII.,  address- 
ed to  the  First  Consul  a  letter  of  the  fol- 
lowing tenor : — '•'  You  cannot  achieve  the 
happiness  of  France  without  my  restora- 
tion, any  more  than  I  can  ascend  the  throne 
which  is  my  right,  without  your  co-opera- 
tion. Hasten  then  to  complete  the  good 
work,  which  none  but  you  can  accomplish, 
and  name  the  rewards  which  you  claim  for 
your  friends." 

Buonaparte  answered  the  letter  with  cold 
civility.  He  esteemed  the  person,  he  said, 
and  pitied  the  misfortunes,  of  his  Royal 
Highness  the  Conipte  de  Provence,  and 
should  be  glad  to  assist  him,  did  an  oppor- 
tunity permit.  But  as  his  Royal  Highness 
could  not  be  restored  to  France,  save  at 
the  expense  of  an  hundred  thousand  lives, 
it  was  an  enterprise  in  which  he,  Buona- 
parte, must  decline  to  aid  him. 

A  less  direct,  and  more  artful  course,  is 
said  to  have  been  attempted,  by  the  mission 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Guiche,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  pleasing  women  of  the 
time,  who,  obtaining  permission  to  come 
to  Paris  under  pretext  of  her  private  affairs, 
was  introduced  at  the  Tuilleries,  and  de- 
lighted Josephine  with  the  elegance  of  her 
manners.  Napoleon  did  not  escape  the  fasci- 
nation, but  the  instant  she  touched  on  the 
subject  of  politics,  the  interesting  Duchesse 
received  an  order  to  quit  Paris. 

As  soon  as  the  Royalists  discovered,  by 
the  failure  of  these  and  similar  applications, 
as  well  as  by  the  gradual  tendency  of  Buon- 
aparte's measures,that  the  restoration  of  the 
Bourbons  was  the  thing  farthest  from  his 
purpose,  their  disappointment  exasperated 
them  against  the  audacious  individual, 
whose  single  person  seemed  now  the  only 
obstacle  to  that  event.  Monarchical  pow- 
er was  restored,  in  spirit  at  least,  if  not  in 
form  ;  was  it  to  be  endured,  the  more  zeal- 
ous followers  of  the  Bourbons  demanded 
of  each  other,  that  it  should  become  the 
prize  of  a  military  usurper  ?  Tliis  party,  a*; 
well  as  that  of  the  Jacobins,  contained 
doubtless  many  adherents,  whom  the  en- 
thusiasm of  their  political  principles  dis- 
posed to  serve  their  cause,  even  at  the  ex- 
pense of  great  crimes.  The  sentiments  of 
the  princes  of  the  royal  family  upon  such  a 
subject,  were  becoming  their  high  rank.* 
They  were  resolved  to  combat  Buonaparte's 
pretensions  with  open  force,  such  as  befit- 
ted their  pretensions  as  head  of  the  chival- 
ry of  France,  but  to  leave  to  Jacobins  the 


*  The  opinions  of  the  royal  family  were  nobly 
rxpre.ssed,  in  a  letter  written  by  the  Prince  of  Con- 
di! to  the  Compte  de'Artois,  at  a  later  period,  34tli 
January  180*2,  wbich  will  bo  horoaiVer  quoted  at 
leuglb. 


Chap  XXXIX.]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


353 


schemes  of  private  assassination.  Still 
there  must  have  been  many,  among  those 
characters  which  are  found  during  the  mis- 
eries and  crimes  of  civil  war,  who  conceiv- 
ed that  the  assassination  of  the  Chief  Con- 
sul would  be  received  as  good  service  when 
accomplished,  although  it  might  not  be  au- 
thorized beforehand.  Nay,  there  may  have 
been  partizans  zealous  enough  to  take  the 
crime  and  punishment  on  themselves,  with- 
out looking  farther  than  the  advantage 
which  their  party  would  receive  by  the  ac- 
tion. 

A  horrible  invention,  first  hatched,  it  is 
said,  by  the  Jacobins,*  was  adopted  by  cer- 
tain Royalists  of  a  low  description,  remark- 
able as  actors  in  the  wars  of  the  Cliouaus, 
of  whom  the  leaders  were  named  Carbon 
and  St.  Regent.  It  was  a  machine  consist- 
ing of  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  placed  on  a 
cart  to  which  it  was  strongly  secured,  and 
charged  with  grape-shot  so  disposed  around 
the  barrel,  as  to  be  dispersed  in  every 
direction  by  the  explosion.  The  lire  was 
to  be  communicated  by  a  slow  match.  It 
was  the  purpose  of  the  conspirators,  un- 
deterred by  the  indiscriminate  slaughter 
which  such  a  discharge  must  occasion,  to 
place  the  machine  in  the  street  through 
which  the  First  Consul  was  to  go  to  the 
Opera,  having  contrived  that  it  should  ex- 
plode, exactly  as  his  carriage  should  pass 
the  spot ;  and,  strange  to  say,  this  strata- 
gem, which  seemed  as  uncertain  as  it  was 
atrocious,  was  within  an  hair's-breadth  of 
success. 

On  the  evening  of  the  10th  October  1800, 
Buonaparte  has  informed  us,  that  though 
he  himself  felt  a  strong  desire  to  remain  at 
home,  bis  wife  and  one  or  two  intimate 
friends  insisted  that  he  should  go  to  the 
Opera.  He  was  slumbering  under  a  cano- 
py when  they  awaked  him.  One  brought 
nis  hat,  ai'.other  his  sword.  He  was  in  a 
manner  forced  into  his  carriage,  where  he 
again  slumbered,  and  was  dreaming  of  the 
danger  which  he  had  escaped  in  an  attempt 
to  pass  the  river  Tagliamento  some  years 
before.  On  a  sudden  he  awaked  amidst 
thunder  and  flame. 

The  cart  bearing  the  engine,  which  was 
placed  in  the  street  St.  Nicaise,  intercepted 
the  progress  of  the  Chief  Consul's  coach, 
which  passed  it  with  some  difficulty.  St. 
Regent  had  fired  the  match  at  the  appoint- 
ed instant;  but  the  coachman,  who  chanc- 
ed to  be  somewhat  into.xicated,  driving  un- 


*  It  is  said,  in  the  Memoirs  of  Fouch^,  that  the 
inrernt  machine  was  the  invention  originally  of  a 
Jacobir  named  Chevalier,  assisted  by  Veycer,  one 
of  tlie  kzme  party ;  that  they  even  made  an  experi- 
ment C'£  its  power,  by  exploding  an  engine  of  the 
kind  behind  the  Convent  de  la  Salpctricre ;  that 
this  circumstance  drew  on  them  the  attention  of 
the  police,  and  that  they  were  arrested.  It  does 
not  appear  by  what  means  the  Royalists  berame 
privy  to  the  Jacobin  plot,  n-jr  is  the  story  in  all  its 
parts  very  probable  ;  yet  it  would  seem  it  must  be 
partly  true,  since  the  attempt  by  means  of  the  in- 
fernal machine  was  at  first  charged  upon  the  Jaco- 
bins, in  consequence  of  Chevalier's  being  known 
to  have  had  some  scheme  in  agitation,  to  be  exe- 
cuted by  similar  moans,  in  the  course  of  the  pre- 
vious yesr. 


usually  fast,  the  carriage  had  passed  the 
machine  two  seconds  before  the  explosion 
took  place  ;  and  that  almost  imperceptible 
fraction  of  time  was  enough  to  save  the 
life  which  was  aimed  at.  The  explosion 
was  terrible.  Two  or  three  houses  were 
greatly  damaged — twenty  persons  killed, 
and  about  fifty-three  wounded  ;  among  the 
latter  was  the  incendiary  St.  Regent.  The 
report  was  heard  several  leagues  from  Paris. 
Btionaparte  instantly  exclaimed  to  Lannea 
and  Bessieres,  who  were  in  the  carriage, 
"We  are  blown  up!"  The  attendants 
would  have  stopped  the  coach,  but  with 
more  presence  of  mind  he  commanded 
them  to  drive  on,  and  arrived  in  safety  at 
llie  Opera;  his  coachman  during  the  whole 
time  never  discovering  what  had  happened, 
but  conceiving  the  Consul  had  only  receiv- 
ed a  salute  of  artillery. 

A  public  officer,  escaped  from  such  a 
peril,  became  an  object  of  yet  deeper  in- 
terest than  formerly  to  the  citizens  in  gen- 
eral ;  and  the  reception  of  the  Consul  at 
the  Opera,  and  elsewhere,  was  more  enthu- 
siastic than  ever.  Relief  was  ostentatious- 
ly distributed  amongst  the  wounded,  and 
the  relatives  of  the  slain  ;  and  every  one, 
shocked  with  the  wild  atrocity  of  such  a 
reckless  plot,  became,  while  they  execrated 
the  perpetrators,  attached  in  proportion  to 
the  object  of  their  cruelty.  A  disappointed 
conspiracy  always  adds  strength  to  the 
government  against  which  it  is  directed ; 
and  Buonaparte  did  not  fail  to  push  this  ad- 
vantage to  the  uttermost. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  infernal  ma- 
chine (for  so  it  was  not  unappropriately 
termed)  had  in  fact  been  managed  by  the 
hands  of  Royalists,  the  first  suspicion  fell 
on  the  Republicans ;  and  Buonaparte  took 
the  opportunity,  before  the  public  were  tin- 
deceived  on  the  subject,  of  dealing  that 
party  a  blow,  from  the  effects  of  which  they 
did  not  recover  during  his  reign.  .\n  arbi- 
trary decree  of  thfe  Senate  was  asked  and 
readily  obtained,  for  the  transportation  be- 
yond seas  of  nearly  one  hundred  and  thirty 
of  the  chiefs  of  the  broken  faction  of  the 
Jacobins,  among  whom  were  several  names 
which  belonged  to  the  celebrated  Reign  of 
Terror,  and  had  figured  in  the  rolls  of  the 
National  Convention.  These  men  were 
so  generally  hated,  as  connected  with  the 
atrocious  scenes  during  the  reign  of  Robes- 
pierre, that  the  unpopularity  of  their  char- 
acters excused  the  irregularity  of  the  pro- 
ceedings against  them,  and  their  fate  waa 
viewed  with  complacency  by  many,  and 
with  indifference  by  all.  In  the  end,  the 
First  Consul  became  so  persuaded  of  the 
political  insignificance  of  these  relics  of 
Jacobinism,  (who,  in  fact,  were  as  harmless 
as  the  fragments  of  a  bomb-shell  after  its 
explosion,)  that  the  decree  of  deportation 
was  never  enforced  against  them  ;  and  Fe- 
li.\  Lepelletier,  Chaudieu,  Talot,  and  their 
companions,  were  allowed  to  live  obscure- 
ly in  France,  watched  closely  by  the  po- 
lice, and  under  the  condition  that  they 
should  not  venture  to  approach  Paris. 

The  actual  conspirators  were  proceeded 
against  with  seventy.     Chevalier  and  Vey- 


354 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXIX. 


cer,  Jacobins,  said  to  have  constructed  the 
original  model  of  the  infernal  machine, 
were  tried  before  a  military  commission, 
condemned  to  be  shot,  and  suffered  death 
accordingly. 

Arena,  Ceraschi,  Le  Brun,  and  Demcr- 
ville,  were  tried  before  the  ordinary  court 
of  criminal  judicature,  and  condemned  by 
the  voice  of  a  jury ;  although  there  was 
little  evidence  against  them,  save  that 
of  their  accomplice  Harel,  by  whom  they 
had  been  betrayed.  They  also  were  exe- 
cuted. 

At  a  later  period,  Carbon  and  St.  Regent, 
Royalists,  the  agents  in  the  actual  attempt 
of  10th  October,  were  also  tried,  condemn- 
ed, and  put  to  death.  Some  persons  tried  for 
the  same  offence  were  acquitted  ;  and  jus- 
tice seems  to  have  been  distributed  with  an 
impartiality  unusual  in  France  since  the 
Revolution. 

But  Buonaparte  did  not  design  that  the 
consequences  of  these  plots  should  end 
with  the  deaths  of  the  wretches  engaged  in 
tliem.  It  afforded  an  opportunity  not  to  be 
neglected  to  advance  his  principal  object, 
which  was  the  erection  of  B'rance  into  a 
despotic  kingdom,  and  the  possessing  him- 
self of  uncontrolled  power  over  the  lives, 
properties,  thoughts,  and  opinions,  of  those 
who  were  born  his  fellow-subjects,  and  of 
whom  the  very  meanest  but  lately  boasted 
himself  his  equal.  He  has  himself  ex- 
pressed his  purpose  respecting  the  Consti- 
tution of  the  year  Eight,  or  Consular  Gov- 
ernment, in  words  dictated  to  General 
Gourgaud. 

"The  ideas  of  Napoleon  were  fixed  ;  but 
the  aid  of  time  and  events  were  necessary 
for  their  realization.  The  organization  of 
the  Consulate  had  presented  nothing  in 
contradiction  to  them  ;  it  taught  unanimity, 
and  that  was  the  first  step.  This  point 
gained,  Napoleon  was  quite  indifferent  as 
to  the  form  and  denominations  of  the  sev- 
eral constituted  bodies.  He  was  a  stranger 
to  the  Revolution.  It  was  natural  that  the 
will  of  these  men,  who  had  followed  it 
through  all  its  phases,  should  prevail  in 
questions  as  difficult  as  they  were  abstract. 
The  wisest  plan  was  to  go  on  from  day  to 
day — by  the  polar  star  by  which  Napoleon 
meant  to  guide  the  Revolution  to  the  haven 
he  desired." 

If  there  is  anything  obscure  in  this  pas- 
sage, it  received  but  too  luminous  a  com- 
mentary from  the  co\irse  of  Buonaparte's 
actions  ;  all  of  which  tend  to  show  that  he 
embraced  the  Consular  government  as  a 
mere  temporary  arrangement,  calculated  to 
prepare  the  minds  of  the  French  nation  for 
his  ulterior  views  of  ambition,  as  young 
colts  are  ridden  with  a  light  bridle  until  they 
are  taught  by  degrees  to  endure  the  curb 
and  bit,  or  as  water-fowl  taken  in  a  decoy 
are  first  introduced  within  a  wider  circuit 
of  nets,  in  order  to  their  being  gradually 
brought  within  that  strict  enclosure  where 
they  are  made  absolute  prisoners.  He  tells 
us  in  plain  terms,  he  let  the  revolutionary 
sages  take  their  own  way  in  arranging  the 
constitution  ;  determined,  without  regard- 
ing the  rules  they  laid  down  on  the  chart. , 


to  steer  his  course  by  one  fixed  point  to  one 
desired  haven.  That  polar  star  was  his  own 
selfish  interest — that  haven  was  despotic 
power.  What  he  considered  as  most  for 
his  own  interest,  he  was  determined  to 
consider  as  the  government  most  suited  for 
France  also.  Perhaps  he  may  have  per- 
suaded himself  that  he  was  actually  serving 
his  country  as  well  as  himself ;  and,  indeed, 
justly  considered,  he  was  in  both  instaucea 
equally  grievously  mistaken. 

With  the  views  which  he  entertained, 
the  Chief  Consul  regarded  the  conspiracies 
against  his  life  as  affording  a  pretext  for  ex- 
tending his  power  too  favourable  to  be  neg- 
lected. These  repeated  attacks  on  the 
Head  of  the  state  made  it  desirable  that 
some  mode  should  be  introduced  of  trying 
such  offences,  briefer  and  more  arbitrary 
than  the  slow  forms  required  by  ordinary 
jurisprudence.  The  prompt  and  speedy 
justice  to  be  expected  from  a  tribunal  freed 
from  the  ordinary  restraint  of  formalities 
and  juries,  was  stated  to  be  more  necessary 
on  account  of  the  state  of  the  public  roads, 
infested  by  bands  called  Chauffeurs,  who 
stopped  the  public  carriages,  intercepted 
the  communications  of  commerce,  and  be- 
came so  formidable,  that  no  public  coach 
was  permitted  to  leave  Paris  without  a  mil- 
itary guard  of  at  least  four  soldiers  on  the 
roof.  This  was  used  as  a  strong  additional 
reason  for  constituting  a  special  Court  of 
Judicature. 

Buonaparte  could  be  at  no  loss  for  mod- 
els of  such  an  institution.  As  hero  of  the 
Revolution,  he  had  succeeded  to  the  whole 
arsenal  of  revolutionary  weapons  forged  in 
the  name  of  Liberty,  to  oppress  the  dear- 
est rights  of  humanity.  He  had  but  to  se- 
lect that  which  best  suited  him,  and  to 
mould  it  to  the  temper  of  the  times.  The 
country  which  had  so  long  endured  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal,  was  not  likely  to 
wince  under  any  less  stern  judicature. 

The  Court  which  government  now  pro- 
posed to  establish,  was  to  consist  of  eight 
members  thus  qualified.  1.  The  president 
and  two  judges  of  the  ordinary  criminal 
tribunal.  "1.  Three  military  men,  bearing 
at  least  the  rank  of  captain.  3.  Two  citi- 
zens, to  be  suggested  by  government,  who 
should  be  selected  from  such  as  were  by 
the  constitution  qualified  to  act  as  judges. 
Thus  five  out  of  eight  judges  were  directly 
named  by  the  government  for  the  occasion. 
The  Court  was  to  decide  without  jury,  with- 
out appeal,  and  without  revision  of  any  kind. 
As  a  boon  to  the  accused,  the  Court  were 
to  have  at  least  si.K  members  present,  and 
there  was  to  be  no  casting  vote  ;  so  that 
the  party  would  have  his  acquittal,  unless 
six  members  out  of  eight,  or  four  members 
out  of  six,  should  unite  in  finding  him  guil 
ty  ;  whereas  in  other  courts,  a  bare  ma- 
jority is  sufficient  for  condemnation. 

With  this  poor  boon  to  public  opinion, 
the  special  Commission  Court  was  to  be  the 
jurisdiction  before  whom  armed  insurgents, 
conspirators,  and  in  general  men  guilty  of 
crimes  against  the  social  compact,  were  to 
undergo  their  trial. 
The  Counsellor  of  State,  Portalii;  laid 


Chap.  XXXIX.]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


355 


this  plan  before  the  Legislative  Body,  by 
whom  it  was,  according  to  constitutionai 
form,  referred  to  the  consideration  of  the 
Tribunate.  It  was  in  this  body,  the  only 
existing  branch  of  the  constitution  where 
vvas  preserved  some  shadow  of  popular 
forms  and  of  free  debate,  that  those  who 
continued  to  entertain  free  sentiments 
could  have  any  opportunity  of  expressing 
them.  Benjamin  Constant,  Daunon,  Che- 
nier,  and  others,  the  gleanings  as  it  were  of 
the  liberal  party,  made  an  honourable  but 
unavailing  defence  against  this  invasion  of 
the  constitution,  studying  at  the  same  time 
to  express  their  opposition  in  language  and 
by  arguments  least  likely  to  give  otTence  to 
the  government.  To  the  honour  of  the 
Tribunate,  which  was  the  frail  but  sole  re- 
maining barrier  of  liberty,  the  project  had 
nearly  made  shipwreck,  and  was  only  pass- 
ed by  a  small  majority  of  forty-nine  over 
forty-one.  In  the  Legislative  Body  there 
was  also  a  strong  minority.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  friends  of  liberty,  however  deprived 
of  direct  popular  representation,  and  of  all 
the  means  of  influencing  public  opinion, 
were  yet  determined  to  maintain  au  oppo- 
sition to  the  First  Consul,  somewhat  on  the 
plan  of  that  of  England. 

Another  law,  passed  at  this  time,  must 
have  had  a  cooling  effect  on  the  zeal  of 
fiome  of  these  patriots.  It  was  announced 
that  there  were  a  set  of  persons,  who  were 
to  be  regarded  rather  as  public  enemies 
than  as  criminals,  and  who  ought  to  be  pro- 
vided against  rather  by  anticipating  and  de- 
feating their  schemes  than  by  punishing 
their  offences.  These  consisted  of  Piepub- 
licans.  Royalists,  or  any  others  entertaining, 
or  supposed  to  entertain,  opinions  inimical 
to  the  present  state  of  affairs  ;  and  the  law 
now  passed  entitled  the  government  to  treat 
them  as  suspected  persons,  and  as  such,  to 
Ijanish  them  from  Paris  or  from  France. 
Thus  was  the  Chief  Consul  invested  with 
full  power  over  the  personal  liberty  of  eve- 
ry person  whom  he  chose  to  consider  as  the 
enemy  of  his  government. 

Buonaparte  was  enabled  to  avail  himself 
to  the  uttermost  of  the  powers  which  he 
had  thus  extracted  from  tlie  Constitutional 
Bodies,  by  the  frightful  agency  of  the  po- 
lice. This  institution  may,  even  in  its  mild- 
est form,  be  regarded  as  a  necessary  evil ; 
for  although,  while  great  cities  continue  to 
afford  obscure  retreats  for  vice  and  crime 
of  every  description,  there  must  be  men, 
whose  profession  it  is  to  discover  and  bring 
criminals  to  justice,  as  while  there  are  ver- 
min in  the  animal  world,  there  must  be 
kites  and  carrion-crows  to  diminish  their 
number  ;  yet,  as  the  excellence  of  these 
guardians  of  the  public  depends  in  a  great 
measure  on  their  familiarity  with  the  arts, 
haunts,  and  practices  of  culprits,  thev  can- 
not be  expected  to  feel  the  same  horror  for 
'•-rimes,  or  criminals,  which  is  common  to 
other  men.  On  the  contrary,  they  have  a 
sympathy  with  them  of  the  same  kind 
which  hunters  entertain  for  the  game  wliich 
is  the  object  of  their  pursuit.  Besides,  as 
much  of  their  business  is  carried  on  by  the 
medium  of  spies,  they  must  be  able  to  per- 


sonate the  manners  and  opinions  of  those 
whom  they  detect ;  and  are  frequently  in- 
duced, by  their  own  interest,  to  direct,  en- 
courage, nay,  suggest  crimes,  that  they 
may  obtain  tiie  reward  due  for  conviction 
of  the  offenders. 

Applied  to  state  offences,  the  agancy  of 
such  persons,  though  sometimes  unavoida- 
ble, is  yet  more  frightfully  dangerous.  Mor- 
al delinquencies  can  be  hardly  with  any 
probability  attributed  to  worthy  or  innocent 
persons ;  but  there  is  no  character  so  pure, 
that  he  who  bears  it  may  not  be  supposed 
capable  of  entertaining  false  and  exaggerat- 
ed opinions  in  politics,  and,  as  such,  be- 
come the  victim  of  treachery  and  delation. 
In  France,  a  prey  to  so  many  factions,  the 
power  of  the  police  had  become  over- 
whelming; indeed  the  very  existence  of 
the  government  seemed  in  some  measure 
dependent  upon  the  accuracy  of  their  in- 
telligence ;  and  for  this  purpose  their  num- 
bers had  been  enlarged,  and  their  discipline 
perfected,  under  the  administration  of  the 
sagacious  and  crafty  Fouche.  This  remark- 
able person  had  been  an  outrageous  Jaco- 
bin, and  dipped  deep  in  the  horrors  of 
the  revolutionary  government — an  adherent 
of  Barras,  and  a  partaker  in  the  venality 
and  peculation  which  characterized  that  pe- 
riod. He  was.  therefore,  totally  without 
principle ;  but  his  nature  was  not  of  that 
last  degree  of  depravity,  which  delights  in 
evil  for  its  own  sake,  and  his  good  sense 
told  him,  that  an  unnecessary  crime  was  a 
political  blunder.  The  lenity  with  which 
he  exercised  his  terrible  office,  when  left  in 
any  degree  to  his  own  discretion,  while  it 
never  prevented  his  implicit  execution  of 
Buonaparte's  commands,  made  the  abomi- 
nable system  over  which  he  presided  to  a 
certain  extent  endurable  ;  and  thus  even 
his  good  qualities,  while  they  relieved  in- 
dividual suffering,  were  of  disservice  to  hia 
country,  by  reconciling  her  to  bondage. 

The  haute  police,  as  it  is  called  by  the 
French,  meaning  that  department  which 
applies  to  politics  and  state  affairs,  had  been 
unaccountably  neglected  by  the  ministera 
of  Louis  XVI.,  and  was  much  disorganized 
by  the  consequences  of  the  Revolution. — 
The  demagogues  of  the  Convention  had 
little  need  of  a  regular  system  of  the  kind. 
Every  affiliated  club  of  Jacobins  supplied 
them  with  spies,  and  with  instruments  of 
their  pleasure.  The  Directory  stood  in  & 
different  situation.  They  had  no  general 
party  of  their  own,  and  maintained  their  au- 
thority, by  balancing  the  Moderates  and 
Democrats  against  each  other.  They, 
therefore,  were  more  dependent  upon  the 
police  than  their  predecessors,  and  they  in- 
trusted Fouche  with  the  superintendence. 
It  was  then  that,  destroying,  or  rather  su- 
perseding, the  separate  offices  where  the 
agents  of  the  police  pretended  to  a  certain 
independence  of  acting,  he  brought  the 
whole  system  to  concentrate  within  his  own 
cabinet.  By  combining  the  reports  of  hia 
agents,  and  of  the  various  individuals  with 
whom  under  various  pretexts  he  maintain- 
ed correspondence,  the  Minister  of  Police 
arrived  at  so  accurate  a  knowledge  of  the 


356 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.      [Chap.  XXXIX. 


purpose,  disposition,  adherents,  and  tools 
of  the  different  parties  in  France,  that  he 
could  anticipate  their  mode  of  acting  upon 
all  occasions  that  were  likely  to  occur, 
knew  what  measures  were  likely  to  be  pro- 
posed, and  by  whom  they  were  to  be  sup- 
ported ;  and  when  any  particular  accident 
took  place,  was  able,  from  his  previous 
general  information,  to  assign  it  to  the  real 
cause,  and  the  true  actors. 

An  unlimited  system  of  espial,  and  that 
atretching  through  society  in  all  its  ramifi- 
cations, was  necessary  to  the  perfection  of 
this  system,  which  had  not  arrived  to  its  ut- 
most height,  till  Napoleon  ascended  the 
throne.  Still,  before  his  reign,  it  existed 
all  through  France,  controlling  the  most 
confidential  expressions  of  opinion  on  pub- 
lic affairs,  and  like  some  mephitic  vapour, 
stilling  the  breath  though  it  was  invisible 
to  the  eye,  and,  by  its  mysterious  terrors, 
putting  a  stop  to  all  discussion  of  public 
measures,  which  was  not  in  the  tone  of 
implicit  approbation. 

The  expense  of  maintaining  this  estab- 
lishment was  immense ;  for  Fouche  com- 
prehended amongst  his  spies  and  inform- 
ers persons,  whom  no  ordinary  gratuity 
would  have  moved  to  act  such  a  part.  But 
this  expense  was  provided  for  by  the  large 
sums  which  the  Minister  of  Police  receiv- 
ed for  the  toleration  yielded  to  brothels, 
gambling-houses,  and  other  places  of  prof- 
ligacy, to  whom  he  granted  licenses,  in 
consideration  of  their  observing  certain 
regulations.  His  system  of  espial  was  also 
extended,  by  the  information  which  was 
collected  in  these  haunts  of  debauchery; 
and  thus  the  vices  of  the  capital  were  made 
to  support  the  means  by  which  it  was  sub- 
jected to  a  despotic  government.  His  au- 
to-biography contains  a  boast,  that  the  pri- 
vate secretary  of  the  Chief  Consul  was  his 
pensioner,  and  that  the  lavish  profusion  of 
Josephine  made  even  her  willing  to  ex- 
change intelligence  concerning  the  Chief 
Consul's  views  and  plans.  Thus  was  Fou- 
che not  only  a  spy  upon  the  people  in  be- 
half of  Buonaparte,  but  a  spy  also  on  Buo- 
naparte himself. 

Indeed,  the  power  of  the  director  of  this 
terrible  enginery  was  so  great,  as  to  excite 
the  suspicion  of  Napoleon,  who  endeavour- 
ed to  counter-balance  it  by  dividing  the  de- 
partment of  police  into  four  distinct  offi- 
ces. There  were  established,  1st,  The 
military  police  of  the  palace,  over  which 
Duroc,  the  grand  master  of  the  household, 
presided.  2d,  The  police  maintained  by 
the  inspector  of  the  gens-d'armes.  3d, 
That  exercised  over  the  city  of  Paris  by  the 
Prefect.  4th,  The  general  police,  which 
fltill  remained  under  the  control  of  Fouche. 
Thus,  the  First  Consul  received  every  day 
four  reports  of  police,  and  esteemed  him- 
self secure  of  learning,  through  some  one 
of  them,  information  which  the  others 
might  have  an  interest  in  concealing. 

The  agents  of  these  different  bodies  were 
frequently  unknown  to  each  other  ;  and  it 
often  happened,  that  when,  in  the  exercise 
of  their  office,  thev  were  about  ly  arrest 
tome  individual  who  had  incurroil  -uupi- 


cion,  they  found  him  protected  against 
them,  by  his  connexion  with  other  bureaus 
of  police.  The  system  was,  therefore,  as 
complicated  as  it  was  oppressive  and  un- 
just; but  we  shall,  have  such  frequent  op- 
I  portunity  to  refer  to  the  subject,  that  we 
need  here  only  repeat,  that,  with  reference 
to  his  real  interest,  it  was  unfortunate  for 
Buonaparte  that  he  found  at  his  disposal  so 
ready  a  weapon  of  despotism  as  the  organ- 
ized police,  wielded  by  a  hand  so  experi- 
enced as  that  of  Fouche. 

It  was  the  duty  of  the  police  to  watch 
the  progress  of  public  opinion,  whether  it 
was  expressed  in  general  society,  and  con- 
fidential communication,  or  by  the  medium 
of  the  press.  Buonaparte  entertained  a  fe- 
verish apprehension  of  the  effects  of  litera- 
ture on  the  general  mind,  and  in  doing  so 
acknowledged  the  weak  points  in  his  gov- 
ernment. The  public  journals  were  under 
the  daily  and  constant  superintendence  of 
the  police,  and  their  editors  were  summon- 
ed before  Fouche  when  anything  was  in- 
serted which  could  be  considered  as  dis- 
respectful to  his  authority.  Threats  and 
promises  were  liberally  employed  on  such 
occasions,  and  such  journalists  as  proved 
refractory,  were  soon  made  to  feel  that  the 
former  were  no  vain  menaces.  The  sup- 
pression of  the  offensive  newspaper  was 
often  accompanied  by  the  banishment  or 
imprisonment  of  the  editor.  The  same 
measure  was  dealt  to  authors,  booksellers, 
and  publishers,  respecting  whom  the  jeal- 
ousy of  Buonaparte  amounted  to  a  species 
of  disease. 

No  one  can  be  surprised  that  an  absolute 
jrovernment  should  be  disposed  to  usurp 
the  total  management  of  the  daily  press, 
and  such  other  branches  of  literature  as  are 
immediately  connected  with  politics  ;  but 
the  interference  of  Buonaparte's  police 
went  much  farther,  and  frequently  required 
from  those  authors  who  wrote  only  on  gener- 
al topics,  some  express  recognizance  of  his 
authority.  The  ancient  Christians  would 
not  attend  the  theatre,  because  it  was  ne- 
cessary that,  previous  to  enjoying  the  beau- 
ties of  the  scene,  they  should  sacrifice  some 
grains  of  incense  to  the  false  deity,  suppos- 
ed to  preside  over  the  place.  In  like  man- 
ner, men  of  generous  minds  in  France  were 
often  obliged  to  suppress  works  on  subjects 
the  most  alien  to  politics,  because  they 
could  not  easily  obtain  a  road  to  the  public 
unless  they  consented  to  recognize  the  right 
of  the  individual,  who  had  usurped  the  su- 
preme authority,  and  extinguished  the  lib- 
erties of  his  country.  The  circumstances 
which  subjected  Madame  de  Stael  to  a  long 
persecution  by  the  police  of  Buonaparte, 
may  be  quoted  as  originating  in  this  busy 
desire,  of  connecting  his  government  with 
the  publications  of  all  persons  of  genius. 

We  have  been  already  led  to  notice,  that 
there  existed  no  cordiality  betwixt  Buona- 
parte and  the  gifted  daughter  of  Necker. 
Their  characters  were  far  from  suited  to 
each  other.  She  had  manifestly  regarded 
the  First  Consul  as  a  subject  of  close  and 
curious  observation,  and  Buonaparte  loved 
not  that  any  one  should  make  him  the  sub- 


Chap.  XXXIX]      LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


«S7 


ject  of  minute  scrutiny.  Madame  de  Stael 
was  the  centre  also  of  a  distinguished  circle 
of  society  in  France,  several  of  whom  were 
engaged  to  support  the  cause  of  liberty ; 
and  the  resolution  of  a  few  members  of  the 
Tribunate,  to  make  some  efforts  to  check 
the  advance  of  Buonaparte  to  arbitrary  pow- 
er, was  supposed  to  be  taken  in  her  saloon. 
and  under  her  encouragement.  For  this 
she  was  only  banished  from  Paris.  But 
when  she  was  about  to  publish  her  excel- 
lent and  spirited  book  on  Germnn  manners 
and  literature,  in  which,  unhappily,  there 
was  no  mention  of  the  French  nation,  or 
its  supreme  chief,  Madame  de  Stael's  work 
was  seized  by  the  police,  and  she  was  fa- 
Toured  with  a  line  from  Fouche,  acquaint- 
ing her  that  the  air  of  France  did  not  suit 
her  health,  and  inviting  her  to  leave  it  with 
all  convenient  speed,  \\1iile  in  e.xile  from 
Paris,  which  she  accounted  her  country, 
the  worthy  Prefect  of  Geneva  suggested  a 
mode  by  which  she  might  regain  favour.  .\n 
ode  on  the  birth  of  the  King  of  Rome,  was 
recommended  as  the  means  of  conciliation. 
Madame  de  Stael  answered,  she  should 
limit  herself  to  wishing  him  a  good  nurse  ; 
and  became  exposed  to  new  rigours,  even 
extending  to  the  friends  who  ventured  to 
visit  her  in  her  exile.  So  general  was  the 
French  influence  all  over  Europe,  that,  to 
shelter  herself  from  the  persecutions  by 
which  she  was  everywhere  followed,  she 
was  at  length  obliged  to  escape  to  England, 
by  the  remote  way  of  Russia.  Chenier, 
author  of  the  Hymn  of  the  Marseilloise, 
though  formerly  the  panegyrist  of  General 
Buonaparte,  became,  with  other  literary 
persons  who  did  not  bend  low  enough  to  | 
his  new  dignity,  objects  of  persecution  to 
the  First  Consul.  The  childish  pertinacity 
with  which  Napoleon  followed  up  such  un- 
reasonable piques,  belongs  indeed,  chiefly, 
to  the  history  of  the  Emperor,  but  it  show- 
ed its  blossoms  earlier.  The  power  of  in- 
dulging such  petty  passions,  goes,  in  a  great 
measure,  to  foster  and  encourage  their  prog- 
ress; and  in  the  case  of  Buonaparte,  this 
power,  great  in  itself,  was  increased  by 
the  dangerous  facilities  which  the  police 
offered,  for  gratifying  the  spleen,  or  the 
revenge,  of  the'  offended  sovereign.  | 

.\nother  support,  of  a  very  different  kind, 
and  grounded  on  the  most  opposite  princi-  ' 
pies,  was  afforded  to  the  rising  power  of  | 
Napoleon,  through  the  re-establishment  of  < 
religion  ia  France,  by  his  treaty  with  the  I 
Pope,  called  the  Concordat.  Two  great  | 
steps  had  been  taken  towards  this  important } 
point,  by  the  edict  opening  the  churches,  j 
and  renewing  the  exercise  of  the  Christian  j 
religion,  and  by  the  restoration  of  the  Pope  ' 
to  his  temporal  dominions,  after  the  battle 
«f  Marengo.  The  further  objects  to  be  i 
attained  were  the  sanction  of  the  First  Con-  j 
sul'a  government  by  the  Pontiff"  on  the  one  i 
hand,  and.  on  the  other,  the  re-establish-  ] 
ment  of  the  rights  of  the  church  in  France,  I 
80  far  as  should  be  found  consistent  with  | 
the  new  order  of  things. 

This  important  treaty  was  managed  by 
Joseph  Buonaparte,  who,  with  three  col- 
leagues, held  conferences  for  that  purpose  ! 


with  the  plenipotentiaries  of  the  Pope.  The 

ratifications  were  exchanged  on  the  18th  of 
September  1801  ;  and  when  they  were  pub- 
lished, it  was  singular  to  behold  how  sab<- 
missively  the  once  proud  See  of  Rome  lay 
prostrated  before  the  power  of  Buonaparte^ 
and  how  absolutely  he  must  have  dictatedi 
all  the  terms  of  the  treaty.  Every  article 
innovated  on  some  of  "those  rights  and- 
claims,  which  the  Church  of  Rome  had  for 
ages  asserted  as  the  unalienable  privileges 
of  her  infallible  head. 

I.  It  was  provided,  that  the  Catholic  re>^ 
ligion  should  be  freely  exercised  in  France, 
acknowledged  as  the  national  faith,  and  its- 
service  openly  practised,  subject  to  such 
regulations  of  police  as  the  French  govern- 
ment should  judge  necessary.  II.  The 
Pope,  in  concert  with  the  French  govern- 
ment  was  to  make  a  new  division  of  dio- 
ceses, and  to  require  of  the  existing  bishops 
even  the  resignation  of  their  sees,  should 
that  be  found  necessary  to  complete  the 
new  arrangement.  III.  The  sees  which 
should  become  vacant  by  such  resignation, 
or  by  deprivation,  in  case  a  voluntary  abdi- 
cation was  refused,  as  also  all  future  vacan- 
cies, were  to  be  filled  up  by  the  Pope,  on 
nominations  proceeding  from  the  French 
government.  IV.  The  new  bishops  were 
to  take  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  the-  govern- 
ment, and  to  observe  a  ritual,  in  which  there 
were  to  be  especial  forms  of  prayer  for  the 
Consuls.  V".  The  church-livings  were  to 
undergo  a  new  division,  and  the  bishops 
were  to  nominate  to  them,  but  only  such 
persons  as  should  be  approved  by  the  gov- 
ernment. V'l.  The  government  was  to 
make  suitable  provision  for  the  national 
clergy,  while  the  Pope  expressly  renounced 
all  right  competent  to  him  and  his  success- 
ors, to  challenge  or  dispute  the  sales  of 
church  property  which  had  been  made  since 
the  Revolution. 

Such  was  the  celebrated  compact,  by 
which  Pius  VII.  surrendered  to  a  soldier, 
whose  name  was  five  or  six  years  before 
unheard  of  in  Europe,  those  high  claims  to 
supremacy  in  spiritual  affairs,  w^hich  his 
predecessors  had  maintained  for  so  many 
ages  against  the  whole  potentates  of  Europe. 
A  puritan  might  have  said  of  the  Power 
seated  on  the  Seven  Hills—"  Babylon  is 
fallen,  it  is  fallen  that  great  city!"  The 
more  rigid  Catholics  were  of  the  same  opin- 
ion. The  Concordat,  they  alleged,  showed 
rather  the  abasement  of  the  Roman  hier- 
archy than  the  re-erection  of  the  Gallic 
church. 

The  proceedings  against  the  existing 
bishops  of  France,  most  of  whom  were  of 
course  emierants,  were  also  but  little  edi- 
fying. Acting  upon  the  article  of  the  Con- 
cordat already  noticed,  and  caused,  as  the 
letter  itself  states,  •'  by  the  exigencies  of 
the  times,  which  exercises  its  violence 
even  on  us."  the  Pope  required  of  each  of 
these  reverend  persons,  by  an  especial  man- 
date, to  accede  to  the  compact,  by  surren- 
dering his  see,  as  therein  provided.  The 
order  was  peremptory  in  its  terms,  and  an 
answer  was  demanded  within  fifteen  days. 
The  purpose  of  this  haste  was  to  prevent 


358 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XXXIX. 


consultation  or  combination,  and  to  place 
before  each  bishop,  individually,  the  choice 
of  compliance,  thereby  gaining  a  right  to  be 
provided  for  in  the  new  hierarchy ;  or  of 
refusal,  in  which  case  the  Pope  would  be 
obliged  to  declare  the  see  vacant,  in  con- 
formity to  his  engagement  with  Buonaparte. 
The  bishops  in  general  declineil  compli- 
ance with  a  request,  which,  on  the  part  of 
the  Pope,  was  evidently  made  by  compul- 
sion. They  offered  to  lay  their  resignation 
at  his  Holiness's  feet,  so  soon  as  they 
should  be  assured  that  there  was  regular 
canonical  provision  made  for  filling  up  their 
sees;  but  they  declined  by  any  voluntary 
act  of  theirs,  to  give  countenance  to  the 
surrender  of  the  rights  of  the  church  im- 
plied in  the  Concordat,  and  preferred  exile 
and  poverty  to  any  provisio-.i  which  they 
might  obtain,  bv  consenting  to  compromise 
the  privileges  of  the  hierachy.  These  pro- 
ceedings greatlv  increased  the  unpopulari- 
ty of  the  Concordat  among  the  more  zeal- 
ous Catholics. 

Others  of  that  faith  there  were,  who, 
though  they  considered  the  new  system  as 
Tery  imperfect,  yet  thought  it  might  have  the 
effect  of  preserving  in  France  some  sense 
of  the  Christian  religion,  which  under  the 
total  disuse  of  public  worship,  stood  a 
chance  of  being  entirely  extinguished  in  the 
minds  of  the  rising  generation.  They  re- 
membered, that  though  the  Jews  in  the 
days  of  f^.sdras  shed  tears  of  natural  sorrow 
when  they  beheld  the  inferiority  of  the  sec- 
ond Temple,  yet  Providence  had  sanction- 
ed its  erection,  under  the  warrant,  and  by 
permission  of  an  unbelieving  task-master. 
They  granted  that  the  countenance  shown 
by  Buonaparte  to  the  religious  establish- 
ment, was  entirclv  from  motives  of  self-in- 
terest ;  but  still  they  hoped  that  God,  who 
works  his  own  will  by  the  selfish  passions 
of  individuals,  was  now  using  those  of  the 
First  Consul  to  recall  some  sense  of  reli- 
gion to  France  ;  and  they  anticipated  that 
religion,  as  the  best  friend  of  all  that  is  good 
and  graceful  in  humanity,  was  likely,  in 
course  of  time,  to  bring  back  and  encour- 
age a  sense  of  rational  liberty. 

The  revolutionary  part  of  France  beheld 
the  Concordat  with  very  different  eyes. 
The  Christian  religion  was.  as  to  the  .Jews 
and  Greeks  of  old.  a  stumbling-block  to  the 
Jacobins,  and  foolishness  to  the  philoso-  I 
phers.  It  was  a  system  which  they  had  at- 
tacked with  a  zeal  even  as  eager  as  that 
which  they  had  directed  airainst  monarchi- 
cal institutions  ;  and  in  the  restoration  of 
the  altar,  they  foresaw  the  re-erection  of 
the  throne.  Iiuonaparte  defended  himself 
among  the  philosophers,  by  comparing  his 
Concordat  t<>  a  sort  of  vaccination  of  reli- 
gion, which,  by  introducing  a  slighter  kind 
into  the  system  of  the  state,  would  gradu- 
ally prepare  fur  its  entire  extinction. 

In  the  meantime,  he  proceeded  to  renew 
the  ancient  league  betwixt  the  church  and 
crown,  with  as  much  s^demnity  as  possible. 
Portalis  was  created  .Minister  of  Religion, 
a  new  office,  lor  manatjing  the  atlairs  of  the 
church.     He  hail  deserved  this  preferment. 


the  Legislative  Body,  in  which  he  proved  to 
the  French  statesmen,  (what  in  other  coun- 
tries is  seldom  considered  as  matter  of 
doubt,)  that  the  e.xercise  of  religion  is  con- 
genial to  human  nature,  and  worthy  of  be- 
ing cherished  and  protected  by  the  state. 
The  Concordat  was  inaugurated  at  Notre 
Dame  with  the  utmost  magnificence.  Buon- 
aparte attended  in  person,  with  all  the  bad- 
ges and  pomp  of  royalty,  and  in  the  style 
resembling  as  nearly  as  possible  that  of  the 
former  Kings  of  France.  The  Archbishop 
of  Aix  was  appointed  to  preach  upon  the 
occasion,  being  the  very  individual  prelate 
who  had  delivered  the  sermon  upon  the 
coronation  of  Louis  XVI.  Some  address, 
it  was  said,  was  employed  to  procure  the 
attendance  of  the  old  Republican  Generals. 
They  were  invited  by  Berthier  to  breakfast, 
and  thence  carried  to  the  First  Consul's 
levee  ;  after  which  it  became  impossible 
for  them  to  decline  attending  him  to  the 
Church  of  Notre  Dame.  As  he  returned 
from  the  ceremony  surrounded  by  these 
military  functionaries,  Buonaparte  remark- 
ed with  complacency,  that  the  former  or- 
der of  things  was  fast  returning.  One  of 
his  generals  boldly  answered, — "  Yes  I — all 
returns — excepting  the  two  millions  of 
Frenchmen  who  have  died  to  procure  the 
proscription  of  the  very  system  now  in  the 
act  of  being  restored." 

It  is  said  that  Buonaparte,  when  he  found 
the  Pope  and  the  clergy  less  tractable  than 
he  desired,  regretted  having  taken  the  step 
of  re-establishing  religion,  and  termed  the 
Concordat  the  greatest  error  of  his  reign. 
But  such  observations  could  only  escape 
him  in  a  moment  of  pique  or  provocation. 
He  well  knew  the  advantage  which  a  gov- 
ernment must  derive  from  a  national  churcli, 
which  recognises  them  in  its  ritual ;  and  at 
Saint  Helena,  he  himself  at  once  acknowl- 
edged the  advantage  of  his  compact  with 
the  Pope  as  a  measure  of  state,  and  his  in- 
difference to  it  in  a  religious  point  of  view. 
"  I  never  regretted  the  Concordat,"  he  said, 
"  I  must  have  had  either  that  or  sometliing 
equivalent.  Had  the  Pope  never  before  ex- 
isted, he  should  have  been  made  for  the  oc- 
casion." 

The  First  Consul  took  car»»,  accordingly, 
to  make  his  full  advantage  of  the  Concor- 
dat, by  introducing  his  own  name  as  much 
as  possible  into  the  catechism  of  the  church, 
which,  in  other  respects,  w.as  that  drawn 
up  by  Bossuet.  To  honour  Napoleon,  the 
catechumen  was  taught,  was  the  same  as  to 
honour  and  serve  (iod  himself— to  oppose 
his  will,  was  to  incur  the  penalty  of  eternal 
damnation. 

In  civil  affairs,  Buonaparte  equally  exert- 
ed his  talents,  in  connecting  the  safety  and 
interests  of  the  nation  with  his  own  aggran- 
dizement. He  had  already  laughed  at  tho 
idea  of  a  free  constitution.  ''The  only 
free  constitution  necessary,"  he  said,  "  or 
useful,  was  a  good  civil  code  ;"  not  con- 
sidering, or  choosing  to  iiave  it  considered, 
that  the  best  system  of  laws,  when  held  by 
no  better  guar.antee  than  the  pleasure  of  an 
arbitrary  prince  and  his  coun<.  il  of  state,  is 


by  a  learned  and  argumentative  speech  to  |  as  insecure  as  the  situation  of  a  pearl  sus 


Chc^.  XXXIX.]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


359 


pended  by  a  single  hair.  Let  us  do  justice 
to  Napoleon,  however,  by  acknowledging, 
that  he  encountered  with  manly  firmness 
the  gigantic  labour  of  forming  a  code  of  in- 
stitutions, which,  supplying  the  immense 
variety  of  provincial  laws  that  existed  in 
the  different  departments  of  France,  and 
suppressing  the  partial  and  temporary  reg- 
ulations made  in  the  various  political  crises 
of  the  Revolution,  were  designed  to  be  the 
basis  of  a  uniform  national  system.  For 
this  purpose,  an  order  of  the  Consuls  con- 
voked Messrs.  Portalis.  Tronchet,  Bigot, 
Preamenu,  and  Maleville,  jurisconsults  of 
the  highest  character,  and  associated  them 
with  the  Minister  of  Justice,  Cambaceres. 
in  the  task  of  adjusting  and  reporting  a 
plan  for  a  general  system  of  jurisprudence. 
The  progress  and  termination  of  this  great 
work  will  be  hereafter  noticed.  The  Chief 
Consul  himself  took  an  active  part  in  the 
d«liberations. 

An  ordinance,  eminently  well  qualified 
to  heal  the  civil  wounds  of  France,  next 
manifested  the  talents  of  Buonap:irte,  and, 
as  men  hoped,  his  moderation.  This  was 
the  general  amnesty  granted  to  the  emi- 
grants. A  decree  of  the  senate,  26th  April 
1801,  permitted  the  return  of  these  unfor- 
tunate persons  to  France,  providing  they 
did  so,  and  took  the  oath  of  lidelity  to  gov- 
ernment, within  a  certain  period.  There 
were,  however,  five  classes  of  exceptions, 
containing  such  as  seemed  too  deeply  and 
strongly  pledged  to  the  house  of  Bourbon, 
ever  to  reconcile  themselves  to  the  govern- 
ment of  Buonaparte.  Such  were,  1st,  Those 
who  had  been  chiefs  of  bodies  of  armed  royal- 
ists ; — 2d,  Who  had  held  rank  in  the  armies 
of  the  allies ; — 3d,  Who  had  belonged  to 
the  household  of  the  princes  of  the  blood  ; 
— 4th,  Who  had  been  agents  or  encouragers 
of  foreign  or  domestic  war; — 5th,  The  gen- 
erals and  admirals,  together  with  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  people,  who  had  been 
guilty  of  treason  against  the  Republic,  to- 
gether with  the  prelates,  who  declined  to 
resign  their  sees  in  terms  of  the  Concor- 
dat. It  was  at  the  same  time  declared,  that 
not  more  than  five  hundred  in  all  should 
be  excepted  from  the  amnesty.  Buona- 
parte truly  judged,  that  the  mass  of  emi- 
grants, thus  winnowed  and  purilied  from  all 
who  had  been  leaders,  exhausted  in  fortune, 
and  wearied  out  by  exile,  would  in  gene- 
ral be  grateful  for  permission  to  return  to 
France,  and  passive,  nay,  contented  and  at- 
tached subjects  of  his  dotninion  :  and  the 
event  in  a  great  measure,  if  not  fully,  jus- 
tified his  expectations.  Such  part  of  their 
property  as  had  not  been  sold,  was  directed 
to  be  restored  to  them  ;  but  they  were  sub- 


jected to  the  special  superintendanre  of 
the  police  for  tlie  space  of  ten  years  after 
their  return. 

With  similar  and  most  laudable  attention 
to  the  duties  of  his  high  office,  Buonaparte 
founded  plans  of  education,  and  particular- 
ly, with  Mongo's  assistance,  established  the 
Polytechnic  school,  which  has  produced  so 
many  men  of  talent.  He  inquired  anxiously 
into  abuses,  and  was  particularly  active  in 
correcting  those  which  had  crept  into  the 
prisons  during  the  Revolution,  where  great 
tyranny  was  exercised  by  monopoly  of  pro- 
visions, and  otherwise.  In  amending  such 
evils,  Buonaparte,  though  not  of  kingly 
birth,  showed  a  mind  worthy  of  the  rank  to 
which  he  had  ascended.  It  is  only  to  be 
regretted,  that  in  what  interfered  with  hia 
))ersonal  wishes  or  interest,  he  uniformly 
failed  to  manifest  tho  sound  and  correct 
views,  which  on  abstract  questions  he  could 
form  so  clearly. 

Other  schemes  of  a  public  character  were 
held  out  as  occupying  the  attention  of  the 
Chief  Consul.  Like  Augustus,  whose  sit- 
uation his  own  in  some  measure  resembled, 
Napoleon  endeavoured,  by  the  magnificence 
of  his  projects  for  the  improvement  of  the 
state,  to  withdraw  attention  from  his  in- 
roads upon  public  freedom.  The  inland 
navigation  of  Languedoc  was  to  be  com- 
pleted, aud  a  canal,  joining  the  river  Yonne 
to  the  Saonne,  was  to  connect  the  south 
part  of  the  republic  so  completely  with  the 
north,  as  to  establish  a  communication  by 
water  between  Marseilles  and  Amsterdam. 
Bridges  were  also  to  be  built,  roads  to  be 
laid  out  and  improved,  museums  founded 
in  the  principal  towns  of  France,  and  many 
other  public  labours  undertaken,  on  a  scale 
which  should  put  to  shame  even  the  boast- 
ed days  of  Louis  XI\'.  Buonaparte  knew 
the  French  nation  well,  and  was  aware  that 
he  should  best  reconcile  them  to  his  gov- 
ernment, by  indulging  his  own  genius  for 
bold  and  magnificent  undertakings,  whether 
of  a  military  or  a  civil  character. 

But  although  these  splendid  proposals 
filled  the  public  ear,  and  tlattered  the  na- 
tional pride  of  France,  commerce  continued 
to  languish,  under  the  effects  of  a  constant 
blockade,  provisions  became  dear,  and  dis- 
content against  the  Consulate  began  to  gain 
ground  over  the  favourable  sentiments 
which  had  hailed  its  commencement.  The 
effectual  cure  for  these  heart-burnings  was 
only  to  be  found  in  a  general  peace  ;  and  a 
variety  of  events,  some  of  them  of  a  char- 
acter very  unpleasing  to  the  First  Consul, 
seemed  gradually  preparing  for  this  desira- 
ble event. 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


tCAop.  XL. 


CHAP.  ZL. 

Return  to  the  external  Relations  of  France. — Her  universal  Ascendency. — Napolton't 
advances  to  the  Emperor  Paul. — Plan  of  destroying  the  British  Power  in  India. — 
Right  of  Search  at  Sea. — Death  of  Paul. — /te  Effects  on  Buonaparte. — Affairt 
of  Egypt. — Assassination  of  Kleber. — Menou  appointed  to  succeed  him. — British 
Army  lands  in  Egypt. — Battle  and  Victory^  of  Alexandria. — Death  of  Sir  Ralph 
Abercromhy. — General  Hutchinson  succeeds  him. —  The  French  General  Belliard 
capitulates — as  does  Menou. —  War  in  Egypt  brought  to  a  victoriotis  Conclusion. 


Having  thus  given  a  glance  at  the  internal 
affairs  of  France  during  the  commence- 
ment of  Buonaparte's  domination,  we  re- 
turn to  her  external  relations,  which,  since 
the  peace  of  Luneville,  had  assumed  the 
appearance  of  universal  ascendenc)',  so 
much  had  the  current  of  human  affairs  been 
altered  by  the  talents  and  fortunes  of  one 
man.  Not  only  was  France  in  secure  pos- 
session, by  the  treaty  of  Luneville,  of  ter- 
ritories e.vtendingto  the  banks  of  the  Rhine, 
but  the  surrounding  nations  were,  under 
the  plausible  names  of  protection  or  alli- 
ance, as  submissive  to  her  government  as 
if  they  had  made  integral  parts  of  her  do- 
minions. Holland,  Switzerland,  and  Italy, 
were  all  in  a  state  of  subjection  to  her  will ; 
Spain,  like  a  puppet,  moved  but  at  her  sig- 
nal ;  Austria  was  broken-spirited  and  de- 
jected ;  Prussia  still  remembered  her  losses 
in  the  first  revolutionary  war ;  and  Russia, 
who  alone  could  be  considered  as  unmoved 
by  any  fear  of  France,  was  yet  in  a  situation 
to  be  easil}'  managed,  by  flattering  and  ca- 
joling the  peculiar  temper  of  the  Emperor 
Paul. 

We  have  already  observed,  that  Buona- 
parte had  artfully  availed  himself  of  the 
misunderstanding  between  Austria  and  Rus- 
sia, to  insinuate  himself  into  the  good  gra- 
ces of  the  Czar.  The  disputes  between 
Russia  asd  England  gave  him  still  further 
advantaETfis  over  the  mind  of  that  incautious 
monarch. 

The  refusal  of  Britain  to  cede  the  almost 
impregnable  fortress  of  Malta,  and  with  it 
the  command  of  th-^  Mediterranean,  to  a 
power  who  wss  no  longer  friendly,  was  ag- 
!»rav:ited  by  her  declining  to  admit  Russian 
i)risoners  into  the  carte'  of  e.^chancre  be- 
twixt the  French  and  British.  Buouaparte 
contrived  to  make  his  approaches  to  the 
('■z:iT  in  a  manner  calculated  to  bear  upon 
both  these  subjects  of  grievance.  He  pre- 
sented to  Paul,  who  affected  to  be  consid- 
ered as  tlie  drand  Master  of  the  Order  of 
St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  tlie  sword  given  by 
the  Pope  to  the  heroic  John  dc  la  Valette, 
vrho  was  at  the  head  of  the  Order  during 
the  criei)rated  defence  of  Malta  ngainst  the 
Turks.  With  tlie  same  view  of  placing  his 
own  conduct  in  a  favourable  contrast  with 
that  of  Great  Britain,  he  new-clothed  and 
armed  eight  or  nine  tliousand  Russian  pris- 
oners, and  dismissed  them  freely,  in  token 
of  his  personal  esteem  for  the  character  of 
tlie  Emperor. 

A  more  secret  and  scandalous  mode  of 
acquiring  interest  is  said  to  have  been  at- 
tained, through  the  attachment  of  the  un- 
fortunate Prince  to  a  French  actress  of  tal- 


ents and  beauty,  who  had  been  sent  from 
Paris  for  the  express  purpose  of  acquiring 
his  affections.  From  these  concurring  rea- 
sons, Paul  began  now  openly  to  manifest 
himself  as  tlic  warm  friend  of  France,  and 
the  bitter  enemy  of  Britain.  In  the  former 
capacity,  he  had  the  weak  and  unworthy 
complaisance  to  withdraw  the  hospitality 
which  he  had  hitherto  afforded  to  the  rel- 
ics of  the  Royal  P'araily  of  Bourbon,  who 
were  compelled  to  remove  from  Mittau, 
where  they  had  been  hitherto  permitted  to 
reside. 

To  gratify  his  pique  against  England, 
Paul  gave  hearing  at  least  to  a  magnificent 
scheme,  by  which  Buonaparte  proposed  to 
accomplish  the  destruction  of  the  British 
power  in  India,  which  he  had  in  vain  hoped 
to  assail  by  the  possession  of  Egypt.  The 
scheme  was  now  to  be  effected  by  the  union 
of  the  French  and  Russian  troops,  which 
were  to  force  their  way  to  British  India 
over  land,  through  the  kingdom  of  Persia  ; 
and  a  plan  of  such  a  campaign  was  seriously 
in  agitation.  Thirty-five  thousand  French 
were  to  descend  the  Danube  into  the  Bl.ack 
Sea  5  and  then,  being  wafted  across  that 
sea  and  the  sea  of  Azof,  were  to.march  bv 
land  to  the  banks  of  the  Wolga.  Here  they 
were  again  to  be  embarked,  and  descend 
the  river  to  Astracan,  and  from  thence  were 
to  cross  the  Caspian  Sea  to  Astrabad,  where 
they  were  to  be  joined  by  a  Russian  armv, 
equal  in  force  to  their  own.  It  \vas  thought 
that,  marching  through  Persia  by  Herat, 
Ferah,  and  Candahar,  the  Russo-Gallic 
army  might  reach  the  Indus  in  forty-five 
days  from  Astrabad.  This  gigantic  project 
would  scarce  have  been  formed  by  any 
less  daring  genius  than  Napoleon  ;  nor 
could  any  prince,  with  a  brain  less  infirm 
than  Paul's,  have  agreed  to  become  his 
tool  in  so  extraordinary  an  undertaking, 
from  which  France  was  to  derive  all  the 
advantage. 

A  nearer  mode  of  injuring  the  interests 
of  England  than  this  overland  march  to 
India,  was  in  the  power  of  the  Emperor  of  . 
Russia.  A  controversy  being  in  depend- 
ence betwixt  England  and  the  northern 
courts,  afforded  the  pretext  for  throwing 
his  weight  into  the  scale  against  her  at  this 
dangerous  crisis. 

The  right  of  search  at  sea,  that  is,  the 
right  of  stopping  a  neutral  or  friendly  ves- 
sel, and  taking  out  of  her  the  goods  belong- 
ing to  an  enemy,  is  acknowledged  in  the 
earliest  maritime  codes.  But  England,  by 
her  naval  superiority,  had  been  enabled  to 
exert  this  right  so  generally,  that  it  became 
the  subject  of  much  heart-burning  to  neu- 


Chap.  XL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


361 


tral  powers.  The  association  of  the  North- 
ern States  in  1780,  Icnown  by  the  name  of 
the  Armed  Neutrality,  had  for  its  object  to 
put  down  this  right  of  search,  and  establish 
the  maxim  that  free  bottoms  made  free 
goods ;  in  other  words,  that  the  neutral 
character  of  the  vessel  should  protect  what- 
ever property  she  might  have  on  board. 
This  principle  was  now  anxiously  reclaim- 
ed by  France,  as  the  most  effective  argu- 
ment for  the  purpose  of  irritating  the  neu- 
tnu  powers  against  Great  Britain,  whose 
right  of  search,  which  could  not  be  exercis- 
ed without  vexation  and  inconvenience  to 
their  commerce,  must  necessarily  be  un- 
popular amongst  them.  Forgetting  that  the 
dauiger  occasioned  by  the  gigantic  power 
of  France  was  infinitely  greater  than  any 
which  could  arise  from  the  maritime  claims 
of  England,  the  northern  courts  became 
again  united  on  the  subject  of  what  they 
termed  the  freedom  of  the  seas.  Indeed, 
the  Emperor  Paul,  even  before  the  offence 
arising  out  of  his  disappointment  respect- 
ing Alalia,  had  proceeded  so  far  as  to  se- 
questrate all  British  property  in  his  domin- 
ions, in  resentment  of  her  exercising  the 
riglit  of  search.  But  upon  the  fresh  provo- 
cation which  he  conceived  himself  to  have 
received,  the  Emperor  became  outrageous, 
and  took  the  most  violent  measures  for 
seizing  the  persons  and  property  of  the 
English,  that  ever  were  practised  by  an  an- 
gry aud  uareasonable  despot. 

Prussia,  more  intent  on  her  own  imme- 
diate aggrandizement  than  mindful  of  the 
welfare  of  Europe  in  general,  took  advan- 
tage of  the  universal  ill-will  against  Eng- 
land, to  seize  upon  the  King's  continental 
dominions  of  Hanover,  with  peculiar  breach 
of  public  faith,  as  she  herself  had  guaran- 
teed the  neutrality  of  that  country. 

The  consequences,  with  regard  to  the 
northern  powers,  are  well  known.  The 
promptitude  of  the  administration  sent  a 
strong  fleet  to  the  Baltic  ;  and  the  well-con- 
tested battle  of  Copenhagen  detached  Den- 
mark from  the  Northern  Confederacy. 
Sweden  had  joined  it  unwillingly ;  and  Rus- 
sia altered  her  course  of  policy  in  conse- 
quence of  the  death  of  Paul.  That  unhappy 
prince  had  surmounted  the  patience  of  his 
subjects,  and  fell  a  victim  to  one  of  those 
conspiracies,  which  in  arbitrary  monarch- 
ies, especially  such  as  partake  of  the  orien- 
tal character,  supply  all  the  checks  of  a 
moderate  and  free  constitution,  where  the 
prerogative  of  the  crown  is  limited  by  laws. 
in  these  altered  circumstances,  the  cause 
of  dispute  was  easily  removed,  by  the  right 
of  search  being  subjected  to  equitable  reg- 
ulations and  modifications. 

Buonaparte  received  the  news  of  Paul's 
death  with  much  more  emotion  than  he 
was  usually  apt  to  testify.  It  is  said,  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  passionate 
exclamation  of  "  Mon  Dieu !"  escaped  him 
in  a  tone  of  sorrow  and  surprise.  With 
Paul's  immense  power,  and  his  disposition 
to  place  it  at  the  disposal  of  France,  the 
First  Consul  doubtless  reckoned  upon  the 
accomplishment  of  many  important  plans 
which  his  death  disconcerted.    It  was  nat 

Vet.  T  q, 


ural,  also,  that  Napoleon  should  be  moved 
by  the  sudden  and  violent  end  of  a  prince, 
who  had  manifested  so  much  admiration  of 
his  person  and  his  qualities.  He  is  said  to 
have  dwelt  so  long  on  the  strangeness  of 
the  incident,  that  Fouche  was  obliged  to 
remind  him,  that  it  was  a  mode  of  changing 
a  chief  magistrate,  or  a  course  of  admin 
istration,  which  was  common  to  the  empire 
in  which  it  took  place.* 

The  death  of  Paul,  so  much  regretted  by 
Buonaparte,  was  nevertheless  the  means 
of  accelerating  a  peace  between  France  and 
Great  Britain,  which,  if  it  could  have  been 
established  on  a  secure  basis,  would  have 
afforded  him  the  best  chance  of  maintain- 
ing his  power,  and  transmitting  it  to  his 
posterity.  While  the  Czar  continued  to  be 
his  observant  ally,  there  was  little  prospect 
that  the  First  Consul  would  be  moderate 
enough  in  the  terms  which  he  might  have 
proffered,  to  permit  the  British  ministry  to 
treat  with  him. 

.\nother  obstacle  to  peace  was  at  thi« 
time  removed,  in  a  manner  not  more  ac- 
ceptable to  Buonaparte  than  was  the  death 
of  the  Emperor  Paul.  The  possession  of 
Egypt  by  the  French  was  a  point  which  the 
First  Consul  would  have  insisted  upon  from 
strong  personal  feeling.  I'he  Egyptian  ex- 
pedition was  intimately  connected  with  his 
own  persona]  glory,  nor  was  it  likely  that 
he  would  have  sacrificed  its  results  to  his 
desire  of  peace  with  Great  Britain.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  no  probability  that 
England  would  accede  to  any  arrangement, 
which  should  sanction  the  existence  of  a 
French  colony,  settled  in  Egypt  with  tlie 
express  purpose  of  destroying  our  Indian 
commerce.  But  this  obstacle  to  peace  wa.s 
removed  by  the  fate  of  arms. 

Affairs  in  Egypt  had  been  on  the  whc.k* 
unfavourable  to  the  French,  since  that  army 
had  lostthe  presence  of  the  commander-in- 
chief  Kleber,  on  whom  the  command  de- 
volved, was  discontented  both  at  the  uncer- 
emonious and  sudden  manner  in  which  the 
duty  had  been  imposed  upon  him,  and  witli 
the  scarcity  of  means  left  to  support  his  de- 
fence. Perceiving  himself  threatened  by  a 
large  Turkish  force,  which  was  collecting 
for  the  purpose  of  avenging  the  defeat  of 
the  vizier  at  .\boukir.  he  became  desirous 
of  giving  up  a  settlement  which  he  despair- 
ed of  maintaining.  He  signed  accordingly 
a  convention  with  the  Turkish  plenipotf-n- 
tiaries,  and  Sir  Sidney  Smith  on  tlic  part  of 
the  British,  by  which  it  was  provided  that 
the  French  should  evacuate  Egypt,  and 
that  Kleber  and  his  army  sliould  be  t-ans- 
ported  to  France  in  safety,  without  nein? 
molested  by  the  British  fleet.  When  thp 
British  government  received  advice  of  ihis 
convention,  they  refused  to  ratify  ii,  on  the 
ground  that  Sir  Sidnev  Smith  had  exceeu- 
ed  his  powers  in  entering  into  it.  Tlie 
Earl  of  Elgin  having  be^n  sent  out  as  plen- 
ipotentiary to  the  Porie.  it  was  asserted 
that  Sir  Sidney's  ministerial  powers  were 
superseded  by  his  appointment.     Such  w.i« 

*  "  Mais  enfin  que  voulez  vou«  '  C'cst  uii  tUiiln 
de  destitution,  propre  a  ce  pait-14 1" 


m-i 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLKON  BUOXAx'^ARTr.. 


[Chap.  XL. 


the  alleged  intbrmaltty  on  which  the  treaty 
fell  to  the  ground;  but  the  truth  was,  that 
the  arrival  of  Kleber  and  his  army  in  the 
south  of  France,  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  successes  of  Suwarrow  gave  strong 
hopes  of  making  some  impression  on  her 
frontier,  might  have  had  a  most  material 
effect  upon  the  events  of  the  war.  Lord 
Keith,  therefore,  vvho  commanded  i\  the 
Mediterranean,  received  orders  not  to  per- 
mit tlie  passage  of  the  French  Egyptian  ar- 
my, and  the  treaty  of  El  Arish  was  in  con- 
sequence broken  off. 

Kleber,  disappointed  of  this  mode  of  ex- 
tricating himself,  had  recourse  to  arms. 
The  Vizier  Jouseff  Pacha,  having  crossed 
the  desert,  and  entered  Egypt,  received  a 
bloody  and  decisive  defeat  from  the  French 
general,  near  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  city 
of  Heliopolis,  on  the  'iiOth  of  March  1800. 
The  measures  which  Kleber  adopted  after 
this  victory  were  well  calculated  to  main- 
tain the  possession  of  the  country,  and  rec- 
oncile the  inhabitants  to  the  French  gov- 
ernment. He  was  as  moderate  in  the  imposts 
as  the  exigencies  of  his  army  permitted, 
greatly  improved  the  condition  of  the 
troops,  and  made,  if  not  peace,  at  least  an 
effectual  truce  with  the  restless  and  enter- 
prising Murad  Bey,  who  still  continued  to 
be  at  the  head  of  a  considerable  body  of 
Mamelukes.  Kleber  also  raised  among  the 
Greeks  a  legion  of  fifteen  hundred  or  two 
thousand  men ;  and  with  more  difficulty 
succeeded  in  levying  a  regiment  of  Copts. 

While  busied  in  these  measures,  he  was 
cut  short  by  the  blow  of  an  assassin.  A  fa- 
natic Turk,  called  Soliman  Haleby,  a  na- 
tive of  Aleppo,  imagined  he  was  inspired 
by  heaven  to  slay  the  enemy  of  the  Prophet 
;uid  the  Grand  Seignior.  He  concealed 
liimself  in  a  cistern,  and  springing  out  on 
Kleber  when  there  was  only  one  man  in 
company  with  him,  stabbed  him  dead.  The 
assassin  was  justly  condemned  to  die  by  a 
military  tribunal ;  but  the  sentence  was  ex- 
ecuted with  a  barbarity  which  disgraced 
those  who  practised  it.  Being  impaled 
alive,  he  survived  for  four  hours  in  the  ut- 
most tortures,  which  he  bore  with  an  indif- 
ference which  his  fanaticism  perhaps  alone 
could  have  bestowed. 

The  Baron  Menou,  on  whom  the  com- 
mand now  devolved,  was  an  inferior  person 
to  Kleber.  He  had  made  some  figure 
amongst  the  nobles  who  followed  the  revo- 
lutionary cause  in  the  Constituent  Assem- 
bly, and  was  the  same  general  whose  want 
of  decision  at  the  affair  of  the  Sections 
had  led  to  the  employment  of  Buonaparte 
in  nis  room,  and  to  the  first  rise,  conse- 
quently, of  the  fortunes  which  had  since 
swelled  so  high.  Menou  altered  for  the 
worse  several  of  the  regulations  of  Kleber, 
and,  carrying  into  literal  execution  what 
Buonaparte  had  only  written  and  spoken 
of,  he  became  an  actual  Mahommedan, 
married  a  native  Turkish  woman,  and  as- 
sumed the  name  of  Abdallah  Menou.  This 
change  of  religion  exposed  him  to  the  ridi- 
oule  of  the  French,  while  it  went  in  no 
degree  to  conciliate  the  Egyptians. 


The  succours  from  France,  which  Buon- 
aparte had  promised  in  his  farewell  addresj 
to  the  Egyptian  army,  arrived  slowly,  and 
in  small  numbers  and  quantity.  This  was 
not  the  fault  of  the  Chief  Consul,  who  had 
commanded  Gantheaume  to  put  to  sea  with 
a  squadron,  having  on  board  four  or  five 
thousand  men  ;  but  being  pursued  by  the 
English  fleet,  that  admiral  was  glad  to  re- 
gain the  harbour  of  Toulon.  Other  efforts 
were  made  with  the  same  indifferent  suc- 
cess. The  French  ports  were  too  closely 
watched  to  permit  the  sailing  of  any  expe- 
dition on  a  large  scale,  and  two  frigates, 
with  five  or  six  hundred  men,  were  the  on- 
ly reinforcements  that  reached  Egypt. 

Meantime,  the  English  cabinet  had  adopt- 
ed the  daring  and  manly  resolution  of 
wresting  from  France  this  favourite  colony 
by  force.  They  had  for  a  length  of  time 
confined  their  military  efforts  to  partial  and 
detached  objects,  which,  if  successful, 
could  not  have  any  effect  on  the  general 
results  of  the  war,  and  which,  when  they 
miscarried,  as  was  the  case  before  Cadiz, 
Ferrol,  and  elsewhere,  tended  to  throw 
ridicule  on  the  plans  of  the  ministry,  and, 
however  undeservedly,  even  upon  the  char- 
acter of  the  forces  employed  on  the  ser- 
vice. It  was  by  such  ill-considered  and 
imperfect  efforts  that  the  war  was  main- 
tained on  our  part,  while  our  watchful  and 
formidable  enemy  combined  his  mighty 
means  to  effect  objects  of  commensurate 
importance.  We.  like  puny  fencers,  of- 
fered doubtful  and  uncertain  blows,  which 
could  only  affect  the  extremities  ;  he  nev 
er  aimed,  save  at  the  heart,  nor  thrust,  but 
with  the  determined  purpose  of  plunging 
his  weapon  to  the  hilt. 

The  consequence  of  these  partial  and 
imperfect  measures  was,  that  even  while 
our  soldiers  were  in  the  act  of  gradually 
attaining  that  perfection  of  discipline  by 
which  they  are  now  distinguished,  they 
ranked — most  unjustly — lower  in  the  re- 
spect of  their  countrymen,  than  at  any  oth- 
er period  in  our  history.  The  pre-eminent 
excellence  of  our  sailors  had  been  shown 
in  a  thousand  actions  ;  and  it  became  too 
usual  to  place  it  in  contrast  with  the  fail- 
ure of  our  expeditions  on  shore.  But  it 
was  afterwards  found  that  our  soldiers 
could  assume  the  same  superiority,  when- 
ever the  plan  of  the  campaign  offered  them 
a  fair  field  for  its  exercise.  Such  a  field 
of  action  was  afforded  by  the  Egyptian  ex- 
pedition. 

This  undertaking  was  the  exclusive  plan 
of  an  ill-requited  statesman,  the  late  Lord 
Melville;  who  had  difficulty  in  obtaining 
even  Mr.  Pitt's  concurrence  in  a  scheme, 
of  a  character  so  much  more  daring  than 
Britain  had  lately  entertained.  The  expe- 
dition was  resolved  upon  by  the  narrowest 
possible  majority  in  the  cabinet;  and  his 
late  Majesty  interposed  his  consent  in 
terms  inferring  a  solemn  protest  against 
the  risk  about  to  be  incurred.  "  It  is  with 
the  utmost  reluctance,"  (such,  or  nearly 
such,  were  the  words  of  George  III..) 
"  that  I  consent  to  a  measure,  which  send* 


Cl>ap.  XLI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


363 


the  flower  of  my  irmy  upon  a  dangerous 
expedition  against  a  distant  province."'* 
The  event,  however,  showed,  that  in  ardu- 
ous circumstances,  the  daring  game,  if  pre- 
viously well  considered,  is  often  the  most 
successful. 

On  the  3th  of  March  1801,  General  Sir 
Ralph  Abercrombie,  at  the  head  of  an  ar- 
my of  seventeen  thousand  men.  landed  in 
Egypt,  in  despite  of  the  most  desperate 
opposition  by  the  enemy.  The  excellence 
of  the  troops  was  displayed  by  the  extreme 
gallantry  and  calmness  with  which,  landing 
through  a  heavy  surf,  they  instantly  form- 
ed and  advanced  against  the  enemy.  On 
the  "list  of  March,  a  general  action  took 
place.  The  French  cavalry  attempted  to 
turn  the  British  flank,  and  made  a  despe- 
rate charge  for  that  purpose,  but  failed  in 
their  attempt,  and  were  driven  back  with 
ifreat  loss.  The  French  were  defeated  and 
compelled  to  retreat  on  Alexandria,  under 
the  walls  of  which  they  hoped  to  maintain 
themselves.  But  the  British  suffered  an 
irreparable  loss  in  their  lamented  comman- 
der, Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie,  who  was  mor- 
tally wounded  in  the  course  of  this  action. 
In  this  gallant  veteran  his  country  long  re- 
gretted one  of  the  best  generals,  and  one 
of  the  worthiest  and  most  amiable  men,  to 
whom  she  ever  gave  birth. 

The  command  descended  on  General 
Hutchinson,  who  was  soon  joined  by  the 
Captain  Pacha,  with  a  Turkish  army.  The 
recollections  of  Aboukir  and  Heliopolis, 
joined  to  the  remonstrances  and  councils 
of  their  English  allies,  induced  the  Turks 
to  avoid  a  general  action,  and  confine  them- 
selves to  skirmishes,  by  which  system  the 
French  were  so  closely  watched,  and  their 
communications  so  effectually  destroved, 
that  General  Belliard,  shut  up  in  a  fortified 


*  At  an  after  period,  the  good  Kinj  made  the 
followins  acknowledgment  of  his  mistake.  When 
Lord  Melville  was  out  uf  power,  his  majesty  did 
hira  the  honour  to  visit  him  at  Wimhledonj  and 
partake  of  some  refreshment.  On  that  occasion 
the  King  took  an  opportunity  to  fill  a  glass  of  wine, 
and  having  made  the  company  do  the  same,  he 
gave  as  his  toast,  "  The  health  of  the  coura;;eoiis 
minister,  who,  against  the  opinion  of  many  of  his 
colleagues,  and  even  the  remonstrances  of  his 
King,  had  dared  to  conceive  and  carry  througii 
the  E^ptian  e.ipedition." 


camp  in  Cairo,  cut  off  from  Alexandria,  and 
threatened    with    insurrection   within   the 
place,  was   compelled  to  capitulate,  under 
condition  that  his  troops  should  safely  be 
transported  to  France,  with  their  arms  and 
baggage.    This  was  on  the  28th  of  June, 
and  the  convention  had  scarce  been  signed, 
when  the  English  army  was  reinforced  in  a 
manner  which  showed  the  bold  and  suc- 
cessful   combination    of   measures   under 
which  the  expedition  had  been  undertaken. 
An  army  of  seven  thousand  men,  of  whom 
two  thousand  were  sepoys,  or  native  Indian 
troops,  were  disembarked  at   Cossier,   on 
the  Red  Sea,  and  detached  from  the  Indian 
settlements,  now  came  to  support  the  Eu- 
ropean part  of  the  English  invasion.     The 
Egyptians  saw  with  the  extremity  of  won- 
der, native  troops,  many  of  them  Mosle- 
mah,  who  worshipped  in  the  mosques,  and 
observed  the  ritual  enjoined  by  the  Proph- 
et, perfectly  accomplished  in  the  European 
discipline.     The  lower  class  were  inclined 
to  think,  that  this  singular   reinforcement 
had  been  sent  to  them  in   consequence  of 
Mahommed's  direct  and  miraculous  inter- 
position ;  only  their  being  commanded  by 
English  officers  did  not  favour  this  theory. 
In  consequence  of  these  reinforcements, 
and  his  own  confined  situation  under  the 
walls  of  Alexandria,   Menou   saw  liimself 
constrained  to  enter  into  a  convention  for 
surrendering   up   the   province    of    I-gj'pt. 
He  was  admitted  to  the  same  terms  of  com- 
position which  had  been  granted  to  Bel- 
liard ;  and  thus  the  war  in  that  quarter  was, 
on  the  part  of  Great  Britain,  triumphant!  v 
concluded. 

The  conquest  of  this  disputed  kingdom, 
excited  a  strong  sensation  both  in  France 
and  Britain ;  but  the  news  of  the  contest 
being  finally  closed  by  Menou's  submis- 
sion, are  believed  to  have  reached  the  for- 
mer country  some  time  before  the  English 
received  them.  Buonaparte,  on  learning 
the  tidings,  is  reported  to  have  said,  "  Well, 
there  remains  now  no  alternative  but  to 
make  the  descent  on  Britain."  But  it  seems 
to  have  occurred  to  him  presently  after- 
wards, that  the  loss  of  this  disputed  prov- 
ince might,  instead  of  being  an  argument 
for  carrying  the  war  to  extremity,  be  con- 
sidered as  the  removal  of  an  obstacle  to  a 
treaty  of  peace. 


CHAP.  XLI. 

Preparations  made  for  the  Invasion  of  Britain.— Xelson  put  in  command  of  the  Sea.~ 
Attack  of  the  Boulogne  Flotilla.— Pitt  leaves  the  Ministry— succeeded  by  Mr.  Adding- 
ton.—Xegotialions  for  Peace.— Just  punishment  of  England,  in  regard  to  the  con- 
quered Settlements  of  the  Enemy.— Forced  to  restore  them  all.  save  Ceylon  and  Trini- 
dad.— Malta  is  placed  under  the  guarantee  of  a  Neutral  Poicer. — Preliminaries  of 
Peace  signed.— Joy  of  the  English  Populace,  and  doubU  of  the  better  classes.—  Trea- 
ty of  Amiens  signed. —  The  ambilioxis  projects  of  Napoleon,  nevertheless,  proceed  icith- 
out  interruption— Extension  of  his  power  in  Italy.— He  is  appointed  Consul  for  life 
with  the  power  of  naming  his  Successor. 

As  the  words  of  the  First  Consul  appeared  |  along  the  coast,  was  crowded  with  flat-bot- 
to  intimate,  preparations  were  resumed  on  j  tamed  boats,  and  the  shores  covered  with 
the  French  coast  for  the  invasion  of  Great,  camps  of  the  men  designed  apparently  to 
Britain.     Boulogne,    and    every    harbour  I  fill  them.    We  need  not  at  greseat dwd'l  on 


8G4 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEO.\  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XU. 


the  preparations  for  attack,  or  tliose  which 
the  English  adopted  in  defence,  as  we  shall 
liavc  occasion  to  notice  both,  when  Buona- 
]).irte,  for  the  last  time,  threatened  England 
with  the  same  measure.  It  is  enough  to 
say.  that,  on  the  present  occasion,  the  men- 
aces of  France  had  their  usual  effect  in 
;ftvakening  the  spirit  of  Britain. 

The  most  extensive  arrangements  were 
made  for  the  reception  of  the  invaders 
should  they  chance  to  land,  and  in  the 
meanwhile,  our  natural  barrier  was  not  ne- 
glected. The  naval  preparations  were  very 
great,  and  what  gave  yet  more  confidence 
than  the  number  of  vessels  and  guns,  Nel- 
son was  put  into  command  of  the  sea,  from 
Orfordness  to  Beachy-head.  Under  his 
management,  it  soon  became  the  questioo, 
not  whether  the  French  flotilla  was  to  in- 
vade the  British  shores,  but  whether  it  was 
to  remain  in  safety  in  the  French  harbours. 
Boulogne  was  bombarded,  and  some  of  the 
small  craft  and  gunboats  destroyed — the, 
English  admiral  generously  sparing  the 
town  ;  and  not  satisfied  with  this  partial  suc- 
cess, Nelson  prepared  to  attack  them  with 
the  boats  of  the  squadron.  The  French  re- 
sorted to  the  most  unusual  and  formidable 
preparations  for  defence.  Their  flotilla  was 
moored  close  to  the  shore  in  the  mouth  of 
Houlogne  harbour,  the  vessels  secured  to 
each  other  by  chains,  and  filled  with  sol- 
diers. The  British  attack  in  some  degree 
failed,  owing  to  the  several  divisions  of 
boats  missing  each  other  in  the  dark  ;  some 
French  vessels  were  taken,  but  they  could 
not  be  brought  off;  and  the  French  chose  to 
consider  this  result  as  a  victory,  on  their 
part,  of  consequence  enough  to  balance  the 
loss  at  Aboukir ; — though  it  amounted  at 
best  to  ascertaining,  that  although  their  ves- 
sels could  not  keep  the  sea,  they  might,  in 
some  comparative  degree  of  safety,  lie  un- 
der close  cover  of  their  own  batteries. 
Meantime,  the  changes  which  had  taken 
place  in  the  British  administration,  were 
preparing  public  expectation  for  that  peace 
which  all  the  world  now  longed  for. 

Mr.  Pitt,  as  is  well  known,  left  the  min- 
istry, and  was  succeeded  in  the  office  of 
Srst  Minister  of  State  by  Mr.  Addington, 
»ow  Lord  Sidmouth.  The  change  was  just- 
ly considered  as  friendly  to  pacific  meas- 
ures ;  for,  in  France  especially,  the  gold  of 
Pitt  had  been  by  habit  associated  with  all 
that  was  prejudicial  to  their  country.  The 
very  massacres  of  Paris,  nay,  the  return  of 
Buonaparte  from  Egypt,  were  imputed  to 
the  intrigues  of  the  English  minister ;  he 
was  the  scape-goat  on  whom  were  charged 
as  the  ultimate  cause  all  the  follies,  crimes, 
Aod  misfortunes  of  the  Revolution. 

A  great  part  of  his  own  countrymen, 
ae  well  as  of  the  French,  entertained  a  doubt 
of  ttie  possibility  of  concluding  a  peace  un- 
der Mr.  Pitt's  auspices  ;  while  those  who 
were  most  anti-Gallican  in  their  opinions, 
•lad  little  wish  to  see  his  lofty  spirit  stoop 
€>  the  task  of  arranging  conditions  of  treaty 
«n  terms  so  different  from  what  his  hopes 
had  once  dictated.  The  worth,  temper, 
and  talents  of  his  successor,  seemed  to 
qaalify  him  to'  enter  into  a  negotiation,  to 


•  which  the  greater  part  of  the   nation  waa 
now  inclined,  were  it  but  for  the  sake  of 
I  experiment. 

'  Buonaparte  himself  was  at  this  time  die* 
posed  to  peace.  It  was  necessary  to  France, 
and  no  less  necessary  to  him,  since  he  oth- 
erv.ise  must  remain  pledged  to  undertake 
the  hazardous  alternative  of  invasion,  in 
which  chances  stood  incalculably  against 
his  success ;  while  a  failure  might  have, 
in  its  consequences,  inferred  the  total  ruin 
of  his  power.  All  parties  were,  therefore, 
in  a  great  degree  inclined  to  treat  with  sin- 
cerity ;  and  Buonaparte  was  with  little  dif- 
ficulty brought  to  consent  to  the  evacuation 
of  Egypt,  there  being  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  he  was  already  possessed  of  the 
news  of  the  convention  with  Menou.  At 
any  rate,  the  French  cause  in  Egypt  had 
been  almost  desperate  ever  since  the  battle 
of  Alexandria,  and  the  First  Consul  waa 
conscious  that  in  this  sacrifice  he  only  re- 
signed that,  which  there  was  little  chance 
of  his  being  able  to  keep.  It  was  also  stip- 
ulated that  the  French  should  evacuate 
Rome  and  NapleSij  a  condition  of  little  con- 
sequence, as  they  were  always  able  to  re- 
occupy  these  countries  when  their  interest 
required  it.  The  Dutch  colony  of  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope  was  to  be  restored  to  tlie  Ba- 
tavian  republic,  and  declared  a  free  port. 

In  respect  of  the  settlements  which  the 
British  arms  had  conquered,  England  un- 
derwent a  punishment  not  unmerited.  The 
conquest  of  the  enemy's  colonies  had  been 
greatly  too  much  an  object  of  the  English 
ministry  ;  and  thus  the  national  force  had 
been  frittered  away  upon  acquisitions  of 
comparatively  petty  importance,  which, 
from  the  insalubrity  of  the  climate,  cost  us 
more  men  to  maintain  them  than  would 
have  been  swept  off  by  many  a  bloody  bat« 
tie.  All  the  conquests  made  on  this  ped- 
dling plan  of  warfare,  were  now  to  be  re- 
turned without  any  equivalent.  Had  the 
gallant  soldiers,  who  perished  miserably  for 
the  sake  of  these  sugar-islands,  been  united 
in  one  well-concerted  expedition,  to  the 
support  of  Charette,  or  La  Piochejacquelein, 
such  a  force  might  have  enabled  these 
chiefs  to  march  to  Paris  ;  or,  if  sent  to  Hol- 
land, mistht  have  replaced  the  Stadthoider 
in  his  dominions.  And  now,  these  very 
sugar-islands,  the  pitiful  compensation 
which  Britain  had  received  for  the  blood 
of  her  brave  children,  were  to  be  restored 
to  those  from  whom  they  had  been  wrested. 
The  important  possessions  of  Ceylon  in  the 
East,  and  Trinidad  in  the  West  IndieK, 
were  the  only  part  of  her  conquests  which 
England  retained.  The  integrity  of  her 
ancient  ally,  Portugal,  was,  however,  rec- 
ognized, and  the  independence  of  the  Ioni- 
an Islands  was  stipulated  for  and  guaran- 
teed. Britain  restored  Porta  Feraijo,  and 
what  other  places  she  had  occupied  in  the 
Isle  of  Elba,  or  on  the  Italian  coast;  but 
the  occupation  of  Malta  for  some  time  ' 
threatened  to  prove  an  obstacle  to  the  trea- 
ty. The  English  considered  it  as  of  the 
last  consequence  that  this  strong  island 
should  remain  in  their  possession,  and  in- 
timated that  they  regarded  the  pertipac^oui 


]| 


:iap.  XLL] 


LIFE  OF  N.VPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


366 


resistance  which  the  First  Consul  testified 
to  this  proposal,  as  implying  a  private  and 
unavowed  desire  of  renewing,  at  soaie  fu- 
ture opportunity,  his  designs  on  Eg}pt,  to 
which  Malta  might  be  considered  as  in 
some  measure  a  key.  After  much  discus- 
eion,  it  was  at  length  agreed  that  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  island  should  be  secured 
by  its  being  garrisoned  by  a  neutral  power, 
and  placed  under  its  guarantee  and  protec- 
tion. 

The  preliminaries  of  peace  were  signed 
10th  October  1801.  (General  Law  de  Lau- 
riston,  the  school  companion  and  first  aid- 
de-camp  of  Buonaparte,  brought  them  over 
from  Paris  to  London,  where  they  were  re- 
ceived with  the  most  extravagant  joy  by  the 
populace,  to  whom  novelty  is  a  sufficient 
recommendation  of  almost  anything.  But 
amidst  the  better  classes,  the  sensation  was 
much  divided.  There  was  a  small  but  en- 
ergetic party,  led  by  the  celebrated  Wind- 
ham, who,  adopting  the  principles  of  Burke 
to  their  utmost  extent,  considered  the  act 
of  treating  with  a  regicide  government  as 
indelible  meanness,  and  as  a  dereliction,  on 
the  part  of  great  Britain,  of  those  principles 
of  legitimacy,  upon  which  the  social  com- 
pact ought  to  rest.  More  moderate  anti- 
Gallicans,  while  they  regretted  that  our  ef- 
forts in  favour  of  the  Bourbons  had  been 
totaL'y  unavailing,  contended  with  reason, 
that  ws  were  not  so  closely  leagued  to  their 
cause  as  to  be  bound  to  sacrifice  our  own 
country,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  restore  the 
exiled  family  to  the  throne  of  France.  This 
was  the  opinion  entertained  by  Pitt  him- 
self, and  the  most  judicious  among  his  fol- 
lowers. Lastly  there  was  the  professed 
Opposition,  who,  while  rejoicing  that  we 
hsia  been  able  to  obtain  peace  on  any  terms, 
might  now  exult  in  the  fulfilment  of  their 
predictions,  of  the  bad  success  of  the  war. 
Sheridan  summed  up  what  was  perhaps  the 
Diost  general  feeling  in  the  country,  with 
the  observation,  that  "  it  was  a  peace 
which  all  men  were  glad  of,  and  no  man 
could  be  proud  of." 

Amiens  was  appointed  for  the  meeting 
of  commissioners,  who  were  finally  to  ad- 
just the  treaty  of  pacification,  which  was 
not  ended  till  five  months  after  the  prelim- 
inaries had  been    agreed  on.     After  this 
long  negotiation,  the  treaty  was  at  length 
signed,  27th  March  1802.    The  isle  of  Mai-  j 
ta,  according  to  this  agreement,  was  to  be 
occupied  by  a  garrison  of  Neapolitan  troops, 
while,  besides  Britain  and  France,  Austria,  I 
Spain,  Russia,  and  Prussia,  were  to  guaran-  j 
tee  its  neutrality.  The  Knights  of  St.  John  i 
were   to   be   the   sovereigns,    but  neither  ! 
French  nor  English  were   in  future  to  be  I 
members   of    that   order.      The    harbours  j 
were  to  be  free  to  the  commerce  of  all  na- 
tions, and  the  Order  was  to  be  neutral  to- 
wards all  nations  save  the  Algerines  and  | 
other  piratical  states.  I 

Napoleon,  had  he  chosen  to  examine  into 
the  feelings  of  the  English,  must  have  seen 
plainly  that  this  treaty,  unwillingly  acceded  | 
to  by  them,  and  only  by  way  of  experiment,  I 
Was  to  have  a  duration  long  or  short,  in  . 
proportion  to  their  confidence  in,  or  doubt  I 


of,  his  own  good  faitli.  His  ambition,  and 
the  little  scruple  which  he  showed  in  grat- 
ifying it,  was.  he  must  have  been  sensible 
the  terror  of  Europe  ;  and  until  the  fears  be 
had  excited  were  disarmed  by  a  tract  of 
peaceful  and  moderate  conduct  on  his  part 
the  suspicions  of  England  must  have  been 
constantly  awake,  and  the  pe.ace  bctweea 
the  nations  must  have  been  considered  as 
preciirious  as  an  armed  truce.  Yet  these 
considerations  could  not  induce  him  to  lay 
aside,  or  even  postpone,  a  train  of  meas- 
ures, tending  directly  to  his  own  personal 
aggrandizement,  and  confirming  the  jeal- 
ousies which  his  character  already  inspir- 
ed. These  measures  were  partly  of  a  na- 
ture adapted  to  consolidate  and  prolong  his 
own  power  in  France  ;  partly  to  extend  the 
predominating  influence  of  that  country 
over  her  continental  neighbours. 

By  the  treaty  of  Luneville,  and  by  that 
of  Tolentino,  the  independent  existence  of 
the  Cisalpine  and  Helvetian  republics  had 
been  expressly  stipulated ;  but  this  inde- 
pendence, according  to  Buonaparte's  ex- 
planation of  the  word,  did  not  exclude 
their  being  reduced  to  mere  satellites,  who 
depended  on,  and  whose  motions  were  to 
be  regulated  by  France,  and  by  himself,  '.he 
chief  governor  of  France  and  all  her  depen- 
dencies. When,  therefore,  the  Directory 
was  overthrown  in  France,  it  was  not  his 
purpose  that  a  directorial  form  of  govern- 
ment should  continue  to  subsist  in  Italy. 
Measures  were  on  this  account  to  be  tak- 
en, to  establish  in  that  country  something 
resembling  the  new  Consular  model  adopt- 
ed in  Paris. 

For  this  purpose,  in  the  beginninir  of 
January  1302,  a  convention  of  450  deputies 
from  the  Cisalpine  States  arrived  at  Lyons, 
(for  they  were  not  trusted  to  deliberate 
within  the  limits  of  their  own  country,)  to 
contrive  for  themselves  a  new  political  sys- 
tem. In  that  period,  when  the  modelling 
of  constitutions  was  so  common,  there  was 
no  difficulty  in  drawing  up  one  j  which  con- 
sisted of  a  president,  a  deputy-president,  a 
legislative  council,  and  three  electoral  col- 
leges, composed,  1st,  of  proprietors,  2d,  of 
persons  of  learning,  and,  3d,  of  commercial 
persons.  If  the  Italians  had  been  awkward 
upon  the  occasion,  they  had  the  assistance 
of  Talleyrand  ;  and  soon  after  the  arrival  of 
Buonaparte  himself  at  Lyons  gave  counte- 
nance to  their  operations.  His  presence 
was  necessary  for  the  exhibition  of  a  most 
singular  farce. 

A  committee  of  thirty  of  the  Italian  con- 
vention, to  whom  had  been  intrusted  the 
principal  duty  of  suggesting  the  new  model 
of  government,  gave  in  a  report,  in  which 
it  was  stated,  that,  from  the  want  of  any 
man  of  sufficient  influence  amongst  them- 
selves to  till  the  office  of  president,  upon 
whom  devolved  all  the  executive  duties 
of  the  state,  the  new  system  could  not  be 
considered  as  secure,  unless  Buonaparte 
should  be  prevailed  upon  to  fill  that  situa- 
tion, not,  as  it  was  carefully  explained,  in 
his  character  of  head  of  the  French  gov- 
ernment, but  in  his  individual  capacity. 
Napoleon  graciously  inclined  to  their  suit. 


366 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLI. 


He  informed  them,  that  he  concurred  in  the 
modest  opinion  they  had  formed,  that  their 
republic  did  not  at  present  possess  an  indi- 
vidual sufficiently  gifted  with  talents  and 
imprrtiality  to  take  charge  of  their  affairs, 
which  he  should,  therefore,  retain  under  his 
own  chief  management,  while  circumstan- 
ces required  hini  to  do  so. 

Having  thus  established  his  power  in  It- 
aly as  firmly  as  in  France,  Buonaparte  pro- 
ceeded to  take  measures  for  extending  his 
dominions  in  the  former  country  and  else- 
where. By  a  treaty  with  Spain,  now  made 
public,  it  appeared  that  the  Duchy  of  Par- 
ma was  to  devolve  on  France,  together  with 
the  island  of  Elba,  upon  the  death  of  the 
present  Duke, — an  event  at  no  distant  date 
to  be  expected.  The  Spanish  part  of  the 
province  of  Louisiana,  in  North  America, 
was  to  be  ceded  to  France  by  the  same  trea- 
ty. Portugal,  too,  though  the  integrity  of 
her  dominions  had  been  guaranteed  by  the 
preliminaries  of  the  peace  with  England, 
had  been  induced,  by  a  treaty  kept  studi- 
ously private  from  the  British  court,'to  cede 
her  province  of  Guiana  to  France.  These 
stipulations  served  to  show,  that  there  was 
no  quarter  of  the  world  in  which  France 
and  her  present  ruler  did  not  entertain 
views  of  aggrandizement,  and  that  ques- 
tions of  national  faith  would  not  be  consid- 
ered too  curiously  when  they  interfered 
with  their  purpose. 

While  Europe  was  stunned  and  astonish- 
ed at  the  spirit  of  conquest  and  accumula- 
tion manifested  by  this  insatiable  conquer- 
or, France  was  made  aware  that  he  was 
equally  desirous  to  consolidate  and  to  pro- 
long his  power,  as  to  extend  it  over  near 
and  distant  regions.  He  was  all,  and  more 
than  all,  that  sovereign  had  ever  been  ;  and 
he  still  wanted  the  title  and  the  perma- 
nence which  royalty  requires.  To  attain 
these  was  no  difficult  matter,  when  the  First 
Consul  was  the  prime  mover  of  each  act, 
whether  in  the  Senate  or  Tribunate  ;  nor 
was  he  long  of  discovering  proper  agents 
eager  to  gratify  his  wishes. 

Chabot  de  L'Allier  took  the  lead  in  the 
race  of  adulation.  Arising  in  the  Tribu- 
nate he  pronounced  a  long  eulogium  on 
Buonaparte,  enhancing  the  gratitude  due  to 
the  hero,  by  whom  France  had  been  pre- 
served and  restored  to  victory.  He,  there- 
fore, proposed,  that  the  Tribunate  should 
transmit  to  the  Conservative  Senate  a  reso- 
lution, requesting  the  Senate  to  consider 
the  manner  of  bestowing  on  Napoleon 
Buonaparte  a  splendid  mark  of  the  national 
gratitude. 

There  was  no  misunderstanding  this  hint. 
The  motion  was  unanimously  adopted,  and 
transmitted  to  the  Convention,  to  the  Sen- 
ate, to  the  Legislative  Body,  and  to  the 
Consuls. 

The  Senate  conceived  they  should  best 
meet  the  demand  now  made  upon  them,  by 
electing  Napoleon  First  Consul  for  a  sec- 
ond space  often  years,  to  commence  when 
the  date  of  the  original  period,  for  which 
he  was  named  by  the  Constitution,  should 
expire. 

The  proposition  of  the  Senate  being  re- 


duced into  the  form  of  a  decree,  was  inti- 
mated to  Buonaparte,  but  fell  short  of  his 
wishes  ;    as  it  assigned  to   him,   however 
distant  it  was,  a  period  at  which  he  must  be 
removed  from  authority.     It  is   true,   that 
the  space  of  seventeen  years,  to  which  the 
edict  of  the  Senate  proposed  to  extend  his     4i 
power,  seemed  to  guarantee  a  very  ample      1 
duration  ;  and  in  point  of  fact,  before  the      ' 
term  of  its  expiry  arrived,  he  was  prisoner 
at  Saint  Helena.     But  still  there  was  a  ter- 
mination, and  that  was  enough  to  mortify 
his  ambition. 

lie  thanked  the  Senate,  therefore,  for 
this  fresh  mark  of  their  confidence,  but 
eluded  accepting  it  in  express  terms,  by 
referring  to  the  pleasure  of  the  people. 
Their  suffrages,  he  said,  had  invested  him 
with  power,  and  he  could  not  think  it  right 
to  accept  of  the  prolongation  of  that  power 
but  by  their  consent.  It  might  have  been 
thought  that  there  was  now  nothing  left  but 
to  present  the  decree  of  the  Senate  to  the 
people.  But  the  Second  and  Third  Con- 
suls, Buonaparte's  colleagues  at  a  humble 
distance,  took  it  upon  them,  though  the 
constitution  gave  them  no  warrant  for  such 
a  manoeuvre,  to  alter  the  question  of  the 
Senate,  and  to  propose  to  the  people  one 
more  acceptable  to  Buonaparte's  ambition, 
requesting  their  judgment,  whether  the 
Chief  Consul  should  retain  his  office,  not 
for  ten  years  longer,  but  for  the  term  of  his 
life.  By  this  juggling,  the  proposal  of  the 
Senate  was  set  aside,  and  that  assembly 
soon  found  it  wisest  to  adopt  the  more  lib- 
eral views  suggested  by  the  Consuls,  to 
whom  they  returned  thanks,  for  having 
taught  them  (we  suppose)  how  to  appre- 
ciate a  hint. 

The  question  was  sent  down  to  the  de- 
partments. The  registers  were  opened 
with  great  form,  as  if  the  people  had  really 
some  constitutional  right  to  exercise.  As 
the  subscriptions  were  received  at  the  offi- 
ces of  the  various  functionaries  of  govern- 
ment, it  is  no  wonder,  considering  the  na- 
ture of  the  question,  that  the  ministers  with 
whom  the  registers  were  finally  deposited, 
were  enabled  to  report  a  majority  of  three 
millions  of  citi:iens  who  gave  votes  in  the 
affirmative.  It  was  much  more  surprising, 
that  there  should  have  been  an  actual  mi- 
nority of  a  few  hundred  determined  Repub- 
licans, with  Carnot  at  their  head,  who  an-  I- 
swered  the  question  in  the  negative.  This  ' 
statesman  observed,  as  he  signed  his  vote,  ; 
that  he'  was  subscribing  his  sentence  of  de-  j 
portation;  from  which  we  may  conjecture 
his  opinion  concerning  the  fairness  of  this 
mode  of  consulting  the  people.  He  was  mis-  , 
taken  notwithstanding.  Buonaparte  found 
himself  so  strong,  that  he  could  afTjird  to 
be  merciful,  and  to  assume  a  show  of  im- 
partiality, by  suffering  those  to  go  unpun- 
ished who  iiad  declined  to  vote  for  the  in- 
crease of  his  power. 

He  did  not,  however,  venture  to  pHropose 
to  the  people  another  innovation,  which 
extended  beyond  his  death  the  power  which 
their  liberal  gift  had  continued  during  his 
life.  A  simple  decree  of  the  Senate  as- 
signed to  Buonaparte  the  right  of  nominal" 


diap.  XLIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BL'OXAPARTE. 


367 


ing  his  successor,  by  a  testamentary  deed. 
So  that  Napoleon  might  call  his  children 
or  relatives  to  the  succession  of  the  empire 
of  France,  as  to  a  private  inheritance  ;  or, 
like  Alexander,  he  might  leave  it  to  the 
most  favoured  of  his  lieutenant-generals. 
To  such  a  pass  had  the  domination  of  a 
military  chief,  for  the  space  of  betwixt  two 
and  three  years,  reduced  the  tierce  democ- 
racy and  stubborn  loyalty  of  the  two  fac- 
tions, which  seemed  before  that  period  to 
combat  for  the  possession  of  France.  Na- 
poleon had  stooped  on  them  both,  like  tlie 
nawk  in  the  fable. 

The  period  at  which  we  close  the  chap- 
ter was  a  most  important  one  in  Napoleon's 
life,  and  seemed  a  crisis  on  wliich  his  fate, 
and  that  of  France,  depended.  Britain,  his 
most  inveterate  and  most  successful  enemy, 
had  seen  herself  compelled  by  circumstan- 
ces to  resort  to  the  experiment  of  a  doubt- 
ful peace,  rather  than  continue  a  war  which 
seemed  to  be  waged  without  an  object. 
The  severe  checks  to  national  prosperity, 
which  arose  from  ihe  ruined  commerce  and 
blockaded  ports  of  France,  mi^ht  now,  un- 
der the  countenance  of  the  First  Consul,  be 
exchanged  for  the  wealth  that  waits  upon 
trade  and  manufactures.  Her  navy,  of  which 
few  vestiges  were  left  save  the  Brest  fleet, 
might  n^w  be  recruited,  and  resume  by 
degrees  that  acquaintance  with  the  ocean 
from  which  thev  had  long  been  debarred. 


The  restored  colonies  of  France  might 
have  added  to  the  sources  of  her  national 
wealth,  and  she  might  have  possessed — 
what  Buonaparte  on  a  remarkable  occa- 
sion declared  to  be  the  principal  objects 
he  desired  for  her — ships,  colonies,  and 
commerce. 

In  liis  personal  capacity,  the  First  Con- 
sul possessed  all  the  power  which  he  de- 
sired, and  a  great  deal  more  than,  whether 
his  own  or  the  country's  welfare  was  re- 
garded, he  ought  to  have  wished  for.  His 
victories  over  the  foes  of  France  had,  by 
their  mere  fame,  enabled  him  to  make 
himself  master  of  her  freedom.  It  re- 
mained to  show — not  whether  Napoleon 
was  a  patriot,  for  to  that  honourable  name 
he  had  forfeited  all  title  when  he  first 
usurped  unlimited  power — but  whether  he 
was  to  use  the  power  which  he  had  wrong- 
fully acquired,  like  Trajan  or  like  Domi- 
tain.  His  strangely-mingled  character  show- 
ed traits  of  both  these  historical  portraits, 
strongly  opposed  as  they  are  to  each  other. 
Or  rather,  he  might  seem  to  be  like  Socra- 
tes in  the  allegory,  alternately  influenced 
by  a  good  and  a  malevolent  demon ;  the 
former  marking  his  course  with  actions  of 
splendour  and  dignity ;  while,  the  latter, 
mastering  human  frailty  by  means  of  its 
prevailing  foible,  the  love  of  self,  debased 
the  history  of  a  hero,  by  actions  and  senti- 
ments worthy  only  of  a  vulgar  tyrant. 


CHAP.  XLII. 

Different  Views  entertained  by  the  English  Ministers  and  the  Chief  Consul  of  the  effects 
of  the  Treaty  of  Amiens. — Napoleon,  misled  by  the  Shouts  of  a  London  Mob,  misun- 
derstands the  feelings  of  ihe  People  of  Great  Britain. — His  continued  encroachments 
on  the  Independfnce  of  Europe — His  Conduct  to  Switzerland — Interferes  in  their 
Politics,  and  sets  himself  up,  uninvited,  as  Mediator  in  their  Concerns — His  extraor- 
dinary Manifesto  addressed  to  them. — Ney  enters  Switzerland  at  the  head  of  10,000 
Men. —  The  patriot,  Reding,  disbands  his  Forces,  and  is  imprinoned. — Switzerland  it 
compelled  to  furnish  France  with  a  Subsidiary  Ariny  of  ir),000  Troops. —  The  Chief 
Consul  adopts  the  title  of  Grand  Mediator  of  the  Helvetic  Republic. 


The  eyes  of  Europe  were  now  fixed  on 
Buonaparte,  as  master  of  the  destinies  of 
the  civilized  world,  v/hich  his  will  could 
either  maintain  in  a  state  of  general  peace, 
or  replunge  into  all  the  miseries  of  renew- 
ed and  more  inveter,ite  war.  Many  hopes 
were  entertained,  from  his  eminent  person- 
al qualities,  that  the  course  in  which  he 
would  direct  them  might  prove  as  honoura- 
ble for  himself  as  happy  for  the  nations 
over  whom  he  now  possessed  sucli  un- 
bounded influence.  The  shades  of  his  char- 
acter were  either  lost  amid  the  lustre  of  his 
victories,  or  excused  from  the  necessity  of 
his  situation.  The  massacre  of  Jaffa  was 
little  known,  was  acted  afar  oft',  and  might 
present  itself  to  memory  as  an  act  of  mili- 
tary severity,  which  circumstances  might 
palliate,  if  not  excuse. 

Napoleon,  supposing  him  fully  satiated 
with  martial  glory,  in  which  he  had  never 
been  surpassed,  was  expected  to  apply  him- 
self to  the  arts  of  peace,  by  which  he 
might  derive  fame  of  a  more  calm,  yet  not 
less  honourable  character.     Peace  was  all 


around  him,  and  to  preserve  it,  he  had  only 
to  will  that  it  should  continue  ;  and  the 
season  seemed  eminently  propitious  for 
taking  the  advice  of  Cineas  to  the  King  of 
Epirus,  and  reposing  himself  after  his  la- 
bours. But  he  was  now  beginning  to  show, 
that,  from  the  times  of  Pyrrhus  to  his  own, 
ambition  has  taken  more  pleasure  in  the  haz- 
ards and  exertions  of  the  chase  than  in  its 
successful  issue.  All  the  power  which  Buo- 
naparte already  possessed  seemed  only  val- 
uable in  1)19  eyes,  as  it  afforded  him  the 
means  of  getting  as  much  more  ;  and,  like  a 
sanguine  and  eager  gamester,  he  went  on 
doubling  his  stakes  at  every  throw,  till  the 
tide  of  fortune,  which  had  so  long  run  in 
his  favour,  at  length  turned  against  him, 
and  his  ruin  was  total.  His  ruling  and  pre- 
dominating vice  was  ambition — we  would 
have  called  it  his  only  one,  did  not  ambi- 
tion, when  of  a  character  intensely  selfish, 
include  so  many  others. 

It  seems  the  most  natural  course,  in  con- 
tinuing our  history,  first  to  trace  those 
events  which  disappointed  the  general  ex- 


368 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


ICkap.  XLII. 


pectations  of  Europe,  and  after  a  jealous 
and  feverish  armistice  of  little  more  than  a 
year,  again  renewed  the  horrors  of  war. 
We  shaJl  then  resume  the  internal  history 
of  France  and  her  ruler. 

Although  the  two  contracting  powers 
had  been  able  to  agree  upon  the  special 
articles  of  the  peace  of  Amiens,  they  pos- 
sessed extremely  different  ideas  concerning 
the  nature  of  a  state  of  pacification  in  gen- 
eral, and  the  relations  which  it  establishes 
between  two  independent  states.  The 
English  minister,  a  man  of  the  highest  per- 
sonal worth  and  probity,  entertained  no 
doubt  that  peace  was  lo  have  its  usual  ef- 
fect, of  restoring  all  tlie  ordinary  amicable 
intercourse  betwi-xt  France  and  England ; 
and  that,  in  matters  concerning  their  mutu- 
al allies,  and  the  state  of  the  European  re- 
public in  general,  the  latter  country,  on 
sheathing  the  sword,  had  retained  the  right 
of  friendly  counsel  and  remonstrance.  Mr. 
Addington  could  not  hope  to  restore  the 
balance  of  Europe,  for  which  so  much 
blood  had  been  spilled  in  the  ISih  century. 
The  scales  and  beams  of  that  balance  were 
broken  into  fragments,  and  lay  under  the 
leet  of  Buonaparte.  But  Britain  did  not 
lie  prostrate.  She  still  grasped  in  her  hand 
the  trident  of  the  Ocean,  and  had  by  no 
event,  in  the  late  contest,  been  reduced  to 
•iurrender  the  right  of  remonstrating  against 
violence  and  injustice,  and  of  protecting 
the  feeble,  as  far  as  circumstances  would 
still  permit. 

But  Buonaparte's  idea  of  the  effects  of 
the  treaty  of  Amiens  was  very  different. 
It  was,  according  to  his  estimation,  a  treaty, 
Containing  everything  that  Britain  was  en- 
titled to  expect  on  the  part  of  herself  and 
her  allies,  and  the  accepting  of  which  ex- 
cluded her  from  all  farther  right  of  interfer- 
ence in  the  affairs  of  Europe.  It  was  like 
a  bounding  charter,  which  restricts  the 
right  of  the  person  to  whom  it  is  grant- 
ed to  the  precise  limits  therein  described, 
and  precludes  the  possibility  of  his  making 
either  claim  or  acquisition  beyond  them. 
All  Europe,  then,  was  to  be  at  the  disposal 
of  France,  and  states  created,  dissolved, 
changed,  and  re-changed  at  her  pleasure, 
unless  England  could  lay  her  finger  on  the 
line  in  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  which  prohib- 
ited the  proposed  measure.  ''England," 
said  the  Moniteur,  in  an  official  tone, ''  shall 
have  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  the  whole  treaty 
of  Amiens,  and  nothing  but  the  treaty  of 
I  Amiens  I"  In  this  manner  the  treaty  was, 
/  so  far  as  England  was  concerned,  under- 
stood to  decide,  and  that  in  favour  of 
France,  all  questions  which  could  possibly 
arise  in  the  course  of  future  time  between 
the  two  countries;  while,  in  ordinary  can- 
dour, and  in  common  sense,  it  could  be 
only  considered  as  settling  the  causes  of 
animosity  between  the  parties,  as  they  ex- 
isted at  the  date  of  the  pacification. 

The  insular  situation  of  England  was  ab- 
surdly alleged  as  a  reason  why  she  should 
not  interfere  in  continental  politics  ;  as  if 
the  relations  of  states  to  each  other  were 
not  the  same,  whether  divided  by  an  ocean 
or  a  line  of  mountains.    The  very  circum- 


stance had  been  founded  upon  eloquently 
and  justly  by  one  of  her  own  poets,  for 
claiming  for  Britain  the  office  of  an  um- 
pire,* because  less  liable  to  be  agitated  by 
the  near  vicinity  of  continental  war,  and 
more  likely  to  decide  with  impartiality  con- 
cerning contending  claims,  in  which  she 
herself  could  have  little  interest.  It  was 
used  by  France  in  the  sense  of  another 
poet,  and  made  a  reason  for  thrusting  Eng- 
land out  of  the  European  world,  and  allow- 
ing her  no  vote  in  its  most  important  con- 
cerns.! 

To  such  humiliation  it  was  impossible  for 
Britain  to  submit.  It  rendered  the  treaty 
ol'  Amiens,  thus  interpreted,  the  counter- 
part of  the  terms  which  the  Cyclops  grant- 
ed to  Polyphemus,  that  he  should  be  the 
last  devoureu.  If  Britain  were  compelled 
to  remain,  with  fettered  hands  and  pad- 
locked lips,  a  helpless  and  inactive  witness, 
while  France  completed  the  subjection  of 
the  Continent,  what  other  doom  could  she 
expect  than  to  be  fin>illy  subdued  ?  It  will 
be  seen  afterwards  that  disputes  arose  con- 
cerning the  execution  of  the  treaty.  These, 
it  is  possible,  might  have  been  accommo- 
dated, had  not  the  general  interpretation, 
placed  by  tiie  First  Consul  on  the  whole 
transaction,  been  inconsistent  with  the 
honour,  safety,  and  independence  .^f  Great 
Britain. 

It  seems  more  than  probable,  that  the 
extreme  rejoicing  of  the  rabble  of  London 
at  signing  the  preliminaries,  their  dragging 
about  the  carriage  of  Lauriston,  and  shout- 
ing "  Buonaparte  for  ever  !"  had  misled  the 
ruler  of  France  into  an  opinion  that  peace 
was  indispensably  necessary  to  England ; 
for,  like  other  foreigners,  misapprehending 
the  nature  of  our  popular  government,  he 
may  easily  enough  have  mistaken  the  cries 
of  a  London  mob  for  the  voice  of  the  Brit- 
ish people.  The  ministers  also  seemed  to 
keep  their  ground  in  Parliament  on  condi- 
tion of  their  making  and  maintaining  peace ; 
and  as  they  showed  a  spirit  of  frankness 
and  concession,  it  might  be  misconstrued 
by  Buonaparte  into  a  sense  of  weakness. 
Had  he  not  laboured  under  some  such  im- 
pression, he  would  probably  have  postponed 
till  the  final  pacification  of  Amiens,  the  gi- 
gantic steps  towards  farther  aggrandize- 
ment, which  he  hesitated  not  to  take  after  . 
signing  the  preliminaries,  and  during  the  ' 
progress  of  the  Congress. 

We  have   specified,  heretofore,  Napo-     , 
Icon's   acceptance  of  the    Presidency   of 
the  Cisalpine  Republic,  on  which  he  now 
bestowed  the  name  of  Italian,  as  if  it  was 
designed  at  a  future  time  to  comprehend 
the  whole  peninsula  of  Italy.     By  a  secret 
treaty  with  Portugal,  he  had  acquired  the 
province  of  Guiana,  so  far  as  it  belonged  to 
that  power.     By   another  with    Spain,  he 
had  engrossed  the  Spanish  part  of  Louiai-     , 
ana,  and,  what  was  still  more  ominous,  the     < 
reversion  of  the  Duchy  of  Parma,  and  of     » 

*  "  Thrice  happy  Britain,  from  tho  kingdoms  rent. 
To  -sit  tho  Guardian  of  the  Continent." 

Addkor. 
t  " peoitua  toto  divisos  orba  Britannoi  " 


Cliap.  XLIL\ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


369 


the  island  of  Elba,  important  as  an  excel- 
lent naval  station. 

In  the  German  Diet  for  settling  the  in- 
demnities, to  be  granted  to  the  various 
princes  of  the  empire  who  had  sustained 
loss  of  territory  in  consequence  of  late 
events,  and  particularly  of  the  treaty  of 
Luneville,  the  influence  of  France  predom- 
inated in  a  manner  which  threatened  entire 
destruction  to  that  ancient  Confederation. 
It  may  be  in  general  observed,  that  towns, 
districts,  and  provinces,  were  dealt  from 
hand  to  hand  like  cards  at  a  gaming-table  ; 
aijd  the  powers  of  Europe  once  more,  after 
the  partition  of  Poland,  saw  with  scandal 
the  government  of  freemen  transferred  from 
hand  to  hand,  without  regard  to  their  wish- 
es, aptitudes,  and  habits,  any  more  than 
those  of  cattle.  This  evil  imitation  of  an 
evil  precedent  was  fraught  with  mischief, 
as  breaking  every  tie  of  affection  betwixt 
the  governor  and  governed,  and  loosening 
all  attachments  which  bind  subjects  to  their 
rulers,  excepting  those  springing  from  force 
on  tlie  one  side,  and  necessity  on  the  other. 

In  this  transfer  of  territories  and  juris- 
dictions, the  King  of  Prussia  obtained  a 
valuable  compensation  for  the  Duchy  of 
<;)leves,  and  other  provinces  transferred  to 
France,  as  lying  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Rhine.  The  neutrality  of  that  monarch  had 
been  of  the  last  service  to  France  during 
her  late  bloody  campaigns,  and  was  now  to 
be  compensated.  The  smaller  princes  of 
the  Empire,  especially  those  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Rhine,  who  had  virtually  placed 
themselves  under  the  patronage  of  France, 
•verc  also  gratified  with  large  allotments  of 
t/'rritory  ;  whilst  Austria,  whose  pertina- 
cious opposition  was  well  remembered, 
'.was  considered  as  yet  retaining  too  high 
pretensions  to  power  and  independence, 
and  her  indemnities  were  as  much  limited 
■M  those  of  the  friends  of  France  were  ex- 
tended. 

The  v.arious  advantages  and  accessions  of 
power  and  influence  which  we  havehither- 
ti>  alluded  to.  as  attained  by  France,  were 
chiefly  pained  by  address  in  treating,  and 
diplomatic  skill.  But  shortly  after  the  trea- 
ty of  Amiens  had  been  signed,  Buonaparte 
manifested  to  the  world,  that  where  intrigue 
was  unsuccessful,  his  sword  was  as  ready  as 
f.vor  to  support  and  extend  his  aggressions. 

The  attack  of  the  Directory  on  the  Swiss 
Cantons  had  been  alwavs  considered  as  a 
coarse  and  gross  violation  of  the  law  of  na- 
tions, and  was  regarded  as  such  by  Buona- 
parte himself.  But  he  failed  not  to  main- 
tain the  military  possession  of  Switzerland 
by  the  French  troops;  nor,  however  indig- 
nant under  the  downfall  of  her  ancient  fame 
and  present  liberties,  was  it  possible  for 
that  country  to  offer  any  resistance,  with- 
out the  certainty  of  total  destruction. 

The  eleventh  article  of  the  treaty  of 
Luneville,  seemed  to  afford  the  Swiss  a 
prospect  of  escaping  from  this  thnddnui, 
but  it  was  in  words  only.  That  treaty  was 
declared  to  extend  to  the  Batavian,  Hel- 
vetic, Cisalpine,  and  Ligurian  Republics. 
"  The  contracting  parties  guarantee  the  in- 
4*ptndence  of  the  said  republics,"  contin- 
Voi.   L  ttst 


ue»  the  treaty,  "  and  the  right  of  the  people 
who  inhabit  them  to  adopt  what  form  of 
government  they  please."  We  have  seen 
how  far  the  Cisalpine  Republic  profited  by 
this  declaration  of  independence  ;  the  pro- 
ceedings respecting  Switzerland  were  much 
more  glaring. 

There  was  a  political  difference  of  opin- 
ion in  the  Swiss  cantons,  concerning  the 
form  of  government  to  be  adopted  by  them  ; 
and  the  question  was  solemnly  agitated  in  a 
Diet  held  at  Berne.  The  majority  inclined 
for  a  constitution  framed  on  the  principle 
of  their  ancient  government  by  a  federative 
league,  and  the  plan  of  such  a  constitution 
was  accordingly  drawn  up  and  approved  of. 
Aloys  Reding,  renowned  for  wisdom,  cour- 
age, and  patriotism,  was  placed  at  the  head 
of  this  system.  He  saw  the  necessity  of 
obtaining  the  countenance  of  France,  in  or- 
der to  the  free  enjoyment  of  the  constitu- 
tion which  his  countrymen  had  chosen,  and 
betook  himself  to  Paris  to  solicit  Buona- 
parte's consent  to  it.  This  consent  was 
given,  upon  the  Swiss  government  agreeing 
to  admit  to  their  deliberations  six  persons 
of  the  opposite  party,  who,  supported  by  the 
French  interest,  desired  that  the  constitu- 
tion should  be  one  and  indivisible,  in  imita- 
tion of  that  of  the  French  Republic. 

This  coalition,  formed  at  the  First  Con- 
sul's request,  terminated  in  an  act  of  treach- 
ery, which  Buonaparte  had  probably  fore- 
seen. Availing  themselves  of  an  adjournal 
of  the  Diet  for  the  Easter  holidays,  the 
French  party  summoned  a  meeting,  from 
which  the  other  members  were  absent,  and 
adopted  a  form  of  constitution  which  total- 
ly subverted  the  principles  of  that  under 
which  the  Swiss  had  so  long  lived  in  free- 
dom, happiness,  and  honour,  Buonaparte 
congratulated  them  on  the  wisdom  of  their 
choice.  It  was,  indeed,  sure  to  meet  hie 
approbation,  for  it  was  completely  subver- 
sive of  all  the  old  laws  and  forms,  and  so 
might  receive  any  modification  which  his 
policy  should  dictate  ;  and  it  was  to  be  ad- 
ministered of  course  by  men,  who,  having 
risen  under  his  influence,  must  necesearily 
be  pliant  to  his  will.  Having  made  hie 
compliments  on  their  being  possessed  of  a 
free  and  independent  constitution,  he  sig- 
nified his  willingness  to  withdraw  the  troops 
of  France,  and  did  so  accordingly.  For 
this  equitable  measure  much  gratitude  was 
expressed  by  the  Swiss,  which  might  havp 
been  saved,  if  they  had  known  that  Buonn- 
parte's  policy  rather  than  his  generosity  dic- 
tated his  proceedings.  It  was,  in  the  first 
place,  his  business  to  a.ssume  the  appearance 
of  leaving  the  Swiss  in  possession  of  their 
freedom  ;  secondly,  he  was  sure  that  events 
would  presently  happen,  when  they  should 
be  left  to  themselves,  which  would  afford  a 
plausible  pretext  to  justify  his  armed  inter- 
ference. 

The  aristocratic  cantons  of  the  ancient 
.Swiss  League  were  satisfied  with  the  con- 
stitution finally  adopted  by  the  French  par- 
ty of  their  country  ;  but  not  so  the  demo- 
cratic, or  small  cantons,  who,  rather  than 
submit  to  it,  declared  their  resolutiou 
to    withdraw  from   the    general    League, 


ro 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLII. 


as  new-modelled  by  the  French,  and  to 
form  under  their  own  ancient  laws  a  sepa- 
rate confederacy.  This  was  to  consist  of 
the  cantons  of  Schweitz,  Uri,  and  Under- 
walden,  forest  and  mountain  regions,  in 
which  the  Swiss  have  least  degenerated 
from  the  simple  and  hardy  manners  of  their 
ancestors.  A  civil  war  immediately  broke 
out.  in  the  course  of  which  it  was  seen, 
that  in  popularity,  as  well  as  patriotism,  the 
usurping  Helvetic  government,  establish- 
f>d  by  French  interest,  was  totsdly  inferior 
to  the  gallant  foresters.  These  last  were 
guided  chiefly  by  the  patriotic  Reding,  who 
strove,  with  undaunted  though  ultimately 
with  vain  resolution,  to  emancipate  his  un- 
fortunate country.  The  intrusive  govern- 
ment were  driven  from  Berne,  their  troops 
everywhere  routed,  and  the  federative  party 
were  generally  received  with  the  utmost  de- 
monstrations of  joy  by  their  countrymen, 
few  adhering  to  the  usurpers,  excepting 
those  who  were  attached  to  them  by  views 
of  emolument. 

But  while  Reding  and  the  Swiss  patriots 
were  triumphing  in  the  prospect  of  restor- 
ing their  ancient  constitution,  with  all  its 
privileges  and  immunities,  the  strong  grasp 
of  superior  power  was  extended  to  crush 
their  patriotic  exertions. 

The  fatal  tidings  of  the  proposed  forcible 
interference  of  France,  were  made  known 
by  the  sudden  arrival  of  Rapp,  Adjutant- 
general  of  Buonaparte,  with  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  the  eighteen  Swiss  cantoris. 
This  manifesto  was  of  a  most  extraordinary 
nature.  Buonaparte  upbraided  the  Swiss 
with  their  civil  discords  of  three  ye^-s' 
standing,  forgetting  that  these  discords 
would  not  have  existed  but  for  the  invasion 
of  the  French.  He  told  them  that,  when 
he,  as  a  boon  granted,  had  been  pleased  to 
■withdraw  his  troops  from  their  country, 
they  had  immediately  turned  their  arms 
against  each  other.  These  are  singular  pro- 
positions enough  to  be  found  in  a  procla- 
mation addressed  by  one  independent  na- 
tion to  another.  But  what  follows  is  still 
more  extraordinary.  ''You  have  disputed 
three  years,  without  understanding  one  an- 
other; if  left  to  yourselves,  you  will  kill 
each  other  for  three  years  more,  without 
coming  to  any  better  result.  Your  history 
shows  that  your  intestine  wars  cannot  be 
terminated  without  the  efficacious  inter- 
vention of  France.  It  is  true,  I  had  resolved 
not  to  intermeddle  with  your  affairs,  having 
always  found  that  your  various  governments 
have  applied  to  me  for  advice  whic'i  they 
never  meant  to  follow,  and  have  sometimes 
made  a  bad  use  of  my  name  to  favour  their 
own  private  interests  and  passions.  But 
I  cannot  remain  insensible  to  the  distress 
of  which  I  see  you  the  prey — I  recall  my 
resolution  of  neutrality — I  consent  to  be 
the  mediator  of  your  differences.  But  my 
meuiation  shall  be  effectual,  as  becomes 
the  great  nation  in  whose  name  I  address 
you." 

This  insulting  tone,  with  which,  uninvited, 
and  as  if  granting  a  favour,  the  Chief  Con- 
sul took  upon  him,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
to  exercise  the  most  arbitrary  power  over  a 


free  and  independent  people,  is  equally  re- 
markable at  the  close  of  the  manifesto. 
The  proclamation  commands,  that  a  depu- 
tation be  sent  to  Paris,  to  consult  with  the 
Chief  Consul;  and  concludes  with  an  as- 
sertion of  Buonaparte's  •'  right  to  expect 
that  BO  city,  community,  or  public  body, 
should  presume  to  contradict  the  measures 
which  it  might  please  him  to  adopt."  To 
support  the  reasoning  of  a  manifesto  which 
every  school-boy  might  have  confuted,  Ney, 
with  an  army  of  forty  thousand  men,  enter- 
ed Switzerland  at  different  points. 

As  the  presence  of  such  an  overpowering 
force  rendered  resistance  vain,  Aloys  Re- 
ding, and  his  gallant  companions,  were  com- 
pelled to  dismiss  their  forces  after  a  touch- 
ing address  to  them.  The  Diet  of  Schweitz 
also  dissolved  itself  in  consequence  of  the 
interference,  as  they  stated,  of  an  armed 
force  of  foreigners,  whom  it  was  impossi- 
ble, in  the  exhausted  state  of  the  country, 
to  oppose. 

Switzerland  was  thus,  once  more,  occu- 
pied by  the  French  soldiers.  The  patriots, 
who  had  distinguished  themselves  in  assert- 
ing her  rights,  were  sought  after  and  in»- 
prisoned.  Aloys  Reding  was  urged  to 
conceal  himself,  but  he  declined  to  do  so ; 
and  when  upbraided  by  the  French  "officer 
who  came  to  arrest  him,  as  being  the  head 
of  the  insurrection,  he  answered  nobly,  "'  I 
have  obeyed  the  call  of  conscience  and  my 
country — do  vou  execute  the  commands  of 
your  master."  He  was  imprisoned  in  the 
Castle  of  Aarsbourg. 

The  resistance  of  these  worthy  patriots, 
their  calm,  dignified,  and  manly  conduct, 
their  simple  and  affecting  pleas  against  over- 
mastering violence,  though  they  failed  to 
procure  the  advantages  which  they  hoped 
for  their  country,  were  not  lost  to  the  world, 
or  to  the  cause  of  freedom.  Their  pathetic 
complaints,  when  perused  in  many  a  remote 
valley,  excited  detestation  of  French  usurp- 
ation, in  bosoms  which  had  hitherto  con- 
tented themselves  with  regarding  the  victo- 
ries of  the  Republic  with  wonder,  if  not 
with  admiration.  For  other  aggressions, 
the  hurry  of  revolution,  the  extremity  of 
war.  the  strong  compulsion  of  necessity 
might  be  pleaded  ;  but  that  upon  Switzer- 
land was  as  gratuitous  and  unprovoked  as 
it  was  nefariously  unjust.  The  name  of 
the  Cantons,  connected  with  so  many  re- 
collections of  ancient  faith  and  bravery, 
hardy  simplicity,  and  manly  freedom,  gate 
additional  interest  to  the  sufferings  of  such 
a  country  ;  and  no  one  act  of  his  public  life 
did  Buonaparte  so  much  injury  throughout 
Europe,  as  his  conduct  towards  Switzer- 
land. 

The  dignified  resistance  of  the  Swiss, 
their  renown  for  courage,  and  the  policy  of 
not  thwarting  them  too  far,  had  some  effect 
on  the  Chief  Consul  himself ;  and  in  the 
final  act  of  mediation,  by  which  he  saved 
them  the  farther  trouble  of  taking  thought 
about  their  own  constitution,  he  permitted 
federalism  to  remain  as  an  integral  princi- 
ple. By  a  subsequent  defensive  treaty,  the 
Cantons  agreed  to  refuse  all  passage  through 
the  country  to  the  enemies  of  France,  and 


Chap.  XLIIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


371 


engaged  to  maintain  an  army  of  a  few  thou- 
sand men  to  guarantee  this  engagement. 
Switzerland  also  furnished  France  with  a 
subsidiary  army  of  sixteen  thousand  men,  to 
be  maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  French 
government.  But  the  firmness  which  these 
mountaineers  showed  in  the  course  of  dis- 
cussing this  treaty  was  such,  that  it  saved 
them  from  having  the  conscription  imposed 
on  them,  as  in  other  countries  under  the 
dominion  of  France. 
Notwithstanding  these  qualifications,  how- 
ever, it  was  evident  that  the  voluntary  and 
self-elected  Mediator  of  Switzerland  was 
in  fact  sovereign  of  that  country,  as  well  as 
of  France  and  the  north  of  Italy ;  but  there 
was  no  voice  to  interdict  this  formidable 
accumulation  of  power.  England  alone  in- 
terfered, by  sending  an  envoy  (Mr.  Aloore) 
to  the  Diet  of  Schweitz,  to  inquire  by  what 


means  she  could  give  assistance  to  their 
claims  of  independence  }  but  ere  his  arri- 
val, the  operations  of  Ney  had  rendered  all 
farther  resistance  impossible.  A  remon- 
strance was  also  made  by  England  to  tho 
French  government  upon  this  unprovok.-d 
aggression  on  the  liberties  of  an  independ- 
ent people.  But  it  remained  unanswered 
and  unnoticed,  unless  in  the  pages  of  the 
Moniteur,  where  the  pretensions  of  Britain 
to  interfere  with  the  affairs  of  the  Conti- 
nent, were  held  up  to  ridicule  and  con- 
tempt. After  this  period,  Buonaparte  adopt- 
ed, and  continued  to  bear,  the  title  of  Grand 
Mediator  of  the  Helvetian  Republic,  in  to- 
ken, doubtless,  of  the  right  which  he  had 
assumed,  and  effectually  exercised,  of  in- 
terfering in  their  affairs  whenever  it  suitcil 
him  to  do  so. 


CHAP.  ZZ.III. 

Increasing  Jealoiuies  belivixt  France  and  England — Additional  Encroachments  and 
Offences  on  the  part  of  the  former. — Singrdar  Instructions  given  by  the  First  Consul 
to  his  Commercial  Agents  in  British  Ports. — Orders  issued  by  the  English  3Iinisters. 
for  the  Expulsion  of  all  Persons  acting  under  them. —  Violence  of  the  Press  07i  both 
sides  of  the  Channel. — Peltier's  celebrated  Royalist  Publication,  L'Ambigu. — Buona- 
parte answers  through  the  Moniteur. — Monsieur  Otto's  Note  of  Remonstrance — Lord 
Hawkesbury's  Reply. — Peltier  tried  for  a  Libel  against  the  First  Consul— found  Guil- 
ty— but  not  brought  up  for  Sentence. — Xapoleon's  C07Uinued  Displeasure. — Angry  Di.\- 
cussiotis  respecting  tht  Treaty  of  Amiens — Malta. — Offensive  Report  of  General  Se- 
bastiani — Resolution  of  the  British  Government  in  consequence. — Conferences  bn- 
ticixt  Buonaparte  and  Lord  Whittcorth. —  The  King  sends  a  Message  to  Parliament, 
demanding  additional  aid. — Buonaparte  quarrels  ivith  Lord  Whitworth  at  a  Levee-- 
Particulars. — Resentment  of  England  xipon  this  occasion. — Farther  Discussio7is  con- 
cerning Malta. — Reasons  why  Buonaparte  might  desire  to  break  off  Negotiations. — 
Britain  declares  War  against  France  on  ISth  May  1803. 


These  advances  towards  universal  empire, 
made  durirg  the  very  period  when  the  pa- 
cific measures  adopted  by  the  preliminaries, 
and  afterwards  confirmed  by  the  treaty  of 
.Vmiens,  were  in  the  act  of  being  carried 
into  execution,  excited  the  natural  jeal- 
ousy of  the  people  of  Britain.  They  had 
not  been  accustomed  to  rely  much  on  the 
sincerity  of  the  French  nation ;  nor  did 
the  character  of  its  present  Chief,  so  full 
of  ambition,  and  so  bold  and  successful 
in  his  enterprises,  incline  them  to  feelings 
of  greater  security.  On  the  other  hand, 
Buonaparte  seems  to  have  felt  as  matter  of 
personal  offence  the  jealousy  which  the 
British  entertained  ;  and  instead  of  sootli- 
ing  it,  as  policy  dictated,  by  concessions 
and  confidence,  he  showed  a  disposition 
to  repress,  or  at  least  to  punish  it,  bv  meas- 
ures which  indicated  anger  and  irritation. 
There  ceased  t)  be  any  cordiality  of  inter- 
course betwixt  the  two  nations,  and  thev 
began  to  look  into  the  conduct  of  each 
other  for  causes  of  offence,  rather  than  for 
the  means  of  removing  it. 

The  English  had  several  subjects  of  com- 
plaint against  France,  besides  the  seneral 
encroachments  which  she  had  continued 
to  make  on  the  liberties  of  Europe.  .\  law 
had  been  made  during  the  times  of  the  | 
wildest  Jacobinism,  which  condemned  to  j 
forfeiture  every   vessel   under  a  hundred ' 


tons  burthen,  carrying  British  merchandise, 
and  approaching  within  four  leagues  of 
France.  It  was  now  thought  proper,  that 
the  enforcing  a  regulation  of  so  hostile  :t 
character,  made  during  a  war  of  unexam- 
pled bitterness,  should  be  the  first  fruits  of 
returning  peace.  Several  British  vessels 
were  stopped,  their  captains  imprisoned, 
their  cargoes  confiscated,  and  all  restitu- 
tion refused.  Some  of  these  had  been 
driven  on  the  f'rench  coast  unwillingly,  and 
by  stress  of  weather ;  but  the  necessity  of 
the  case  created  no  exemption.  .\j.  in- 
stance there  was,  of  a  British  vessel  iii 
ballast,  which  entered  Charente,  in  order 
to  load  with  a  cargo  of  Brandy.  The 
plates,  knives,  forks,  &c.  used  by  the  cap- 
tain, being  found  to  be  of  British  manu- 
facture, the  circumstance  was  thought  i 
sufficient  apology  for  seizing  the  vessel. 
These  aggressions,  repeatedly  made,  were 
not,  so  far  as  appears,  remedied  on  the 
most  urgent  remonstrances,  and  seemi'd 
to  argue  that  the  French  were  already  act- 
ing on  the  vexatious  and  irritating  princi- 
ple which  often  precedes  a  war,  but  very 
seldom  immediately  follows  a  peace.  Ti.'^ 
conduct  of  France  was  felt  to  be  tho  more 
unreasonable  and  ungracious,  as  ail  restric- 
tions on  her  commerce,  imposed  during  th«> 
war,  had  been  withdrawn  on  the  part  oi 
Great  Britain  so  soon  as  the  peace  wj^s  cc^- 


372 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLUI. 


claded.  In  like  manner,  a  stipulation  of 
the  treaty  of  Amiens,  providing  that  all 
sequestrations  imposed  on  the  property  of 
Vrench  or  of  English,  in  the  two  contending 
countries,  should  be  removed,  was  instant- 
ly complied  with  in  Britain,  but  postponed 
and  dallied  with  on  the  part  of  France. 

The  above  were  vexatious  and  offensive 
measures,  intimating  little  respect  for  the 
government  of  England,  and  no  desire  to 
cultivate  her  good  will.  They  were  per- 
haps adopted  by  the  Chief  Consul,  in  hopes 
of  inducing  Britain  to  make  some  sacrifi- 
ces in  order  to  obtain  from  his  favour  a 
commercial  treaty,  the  advantages  of  which, 
according  to  his  opinion  of  the  English  na- 
tion, was  a  boon  calculated  to  make  them 
quickly  forgive  the  humiliating  restrictions 
from  which  it  would  emancipate  their  trade. 
If  this  were  any  part  of  his  policy,  he  was 
ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  people  to 
whom  it  was  applied.  It  is  the  sluggish 
ox  alone  that  is  governed  by  a  goad.  But 
what  gave  the  deepest  offence  and  most 
lively  alarm  to  Britain,  was,  that  while 
Buonaparte  declined  affording  the  ordinary 
facilities  for  English  commerce,  it  was 
his  purpose,  nevertheless,  to  establish  a 
commercial  agent  in  every  part  of  the  Brit- 
ish dominions,  whose  ostensible  duty  was 
to  watch  over  that  very  trade  which  the 
First  Consul  showed  so  little  desire  to  en- 
courage, but  whose  real  business  resembled 
that  of  an  accredited  and  privileged  spy. 
These  official  persons  were  not  only,  by 
their  instructions,  directed  to  collect  every 
possible  information  on  commercial  points, 
but  also  to  furnish  a  plan  of  the  ports  of 
each  district,  with  all  the  soundings,  and 
to  point  out  with  what  wind  vessels  could  go 
out  and  enter  with  most  ease,  and  at  what 
draught  of  water  the  harbour  might  be  en- 
tered by  ships  of  burthen.  To  add  to  the 
alarming  character  of  such  a  set  of  agents, 
it  was  found  that  those  invested  with  the 
office  were  military  men  and  engineers. 

Consuls  thus  nominated  had  reached  Brit- 
ain, but  had  not,  in  general,  occupied  the 
posts  assigned  to  them,  when  the  British 
government,  becoming  informed  of  the  du- 
ties they  were  expected  to  perform,  an- 
nounced to  them  that  any  one  who  might 
repair  to  a  British  sea-port  under  such  a 
character,  should  be  instantly  ordered  to 
quit  the  island.  The  secrecy  with  which 
these  agents  had  been  instructed  to  conduct 
themselves  was  so  great,  that  one  Fauvelet, 
to  whom  the  office  of  commercial  agent  at 
Dublin  had  been  assigned,  and  who  had 
reached  the  place  of  his  destination  before 
the  nature  of  the  appointment  was  discov- 
ered, could  not  be  found  out  by  some  per- 
sons who  desired  to  make  an  affidavit  be- 
fore him  as  Consul  of  France.  It  can  be 
no  wonder  that  the  very  worst  impression 
was  made  on  the  public  mind  of  Britain 
r>ispecting  the  further  nrojects  of  her  late 
enemich,  when  it  was  evident  that  they 
availed  themselves  of  the  first  moments  of 
retummg  peace  to  procure,  by  an  indirect 
and  most  suspicious  course  of  proceeding, 
thatepecies  of  information,  which  would 
iM  most  uieful  to  France,  and  mott  danger- 


ous to  Britain,  in  the  event  of  a  renewed 
war. 

While  these  grievances  and  circumstanc- 
es of  suspicion  agitated  the  English  nation,, 
the  daily  press,  which  alternately  acts  up- 
on public  opinion,  and  is  re-acted  upon  by 
it,  was  loud  and  vehement.  The  personal 
character  of  the  Chief  Consul  was  severe- 
ly treated ;  his  measures  of  self-aggran- 
dizement arraigned,  his  aggressions  on  the 
liberty  of  France,  of  Italy,  and  especially 
of  Switzerland,  held  up  to  open  day  ;  while 
every  instance  of  petty  vexation  and  op- 
pression practised  upon  British  commerce 
or  British  subjects,  was  quoted  as  express- 
ing his  deep  resentment  against  the  only 
country  which  possessed  the  will  and  the 
power  to  counteract  his  acquiring  the  uni- 
versal dominion  of  Europe. 

There  was  at  this  period  in  Britain  a 
large  party  of  French  Royalists,  who,  de- 
clining to  return  to  France,  or  falling  under 
the  exceptions  to  the  amnesty,  regarded 
Buonaparte  as  their  personal  enemy,  as  well 
as  the  main  obstacle  to  the  restoration  of 
the  Bourbons,  to  which,  but  for  him  only, 
the  people  of  France  seemed  otherwise 
more  disposed  than  at  any  time  since  the 
commencement  of  the  Revolution.  Thesa 
gentlemen  found  an  able  and  active  advo- 
cate of  their  cause  in  Monsieur  Peltier,  au 
emigrant,  a  determined  royalist,  and  a  man 
of  that  ready  wit  and  vivacity  of  talent 
which  is  peculiarly  calculated  for  periodi- 
cal writing.  He  had  opposed  the  demo- 
crats during  the  early  days  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, by  a  publication  termed  the  "  Acts  of 
the  Apostles;"  in  which  he  held  up  to  ridi- 
cule and  execration  the  actions,  preten- 
sions, and  principles  of  their  leaders,  with 
such  success  as  induced  Brissot  to  assert, 
that  he  had  done  more  harm  to  the  Repub- 
lican cause  than  all  the  allied  armies.  At 
the  present  crisis,  he  commenced  the  pub- 
lication of  a  weekly  paper  in  London,  in 
the  French  language,  called  L'Ambigu. 
The  decoration  at  the  top  of  the  sheet  waa 
a  head  of  Buonaparte,  placed  on  the  body 
of  a  Sphinx.  This  ornament  being  object- 
ed to  after  the  first  two  or  three  numbers, 
the  Sphinx  appeared  with  the  neck  truncat- 
ed; but  being  still  decked  with  the  consu- 
lar emblems,  continued  to  intimate  emblem- 
atically the  allusion  at  once  to  Egypt,  and 
to  the  ambiguous  character  of  the  First 
Consul.  The  columns  of  this  paper  were 
dedicated  to  the  most  severe  attacks  upon 
Buonaparte  and  the  French  government; 
and  as  it  was  highly  popular,  from  the  gen- 
eral feelings  of  the  English  nation  towards 
both,  it  was  widely  dispersed  and  generally 
read. 

The  torrent  of  satire  and  abuse  poured 
forth'  from  the  English  and  Anglo-gallican 
periodical  press,  was  calculated  deeply  to 
annoy  and  irritate  the  person  against  whom 
it  was  chiefly  aimed.  In  England  we  are 
so  much  accustomed  to  see  character*  the 
most  unimpeachable,  nay,  the  most  venera.- 
ble,  assailed  by  the  daily  press,  that  we  ao 
count  the  individual  guilty  of  folly,  who.  if 
he  be  innocent  of  giving  cause  to  the  tcuk> 
dal,  takes  it  to  heart  more   than  &  paue»- 


5 


Chap.  XLin.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOA  BUONAPARTE. 


373 


ger  would  mind  the  barking  of  a  dog,  that 
yelps  at  every  passing  sound.  But  this  is 
a  sentiment  acquired  partly  by  habit,  partly 
by  our  knowledge,  that  unsubstantiated  scan- 
dal of  this  sort  makes  no  impression  on  the 
public  mind.  Such  indifference  cannot  be 
expected  on  the  part  of  foreigners,  who  in 
this  particular,  resemble  horses  introduced 
from  neighbouring  counties  into  the  pre- 
cincts of  forest  districts,  that  are  liable  to 
be  stung  into  madness  by  a  peculiar  species 
of  gad-fly,  to  which  the  race  bred  in  the 
country  are  from  habit  almost  totally  indif- 
ferent. 

""it  be  thus  with  foreigners  in  general, 
je  supposed  that  from  natural  impa- 
ucuce  of  censure,  as  well  as  rendered  sus- 
ceptible and  irritable  by  his  course  of  unin- 
terrupted success.  Napoleon  Buonaparte 
must  have  winced  under  the  animated  and 
sustained  attacks  upon  his  person  and  gov- 
ernment, which  appeared  in  the  English 
newspapers,  and  Peltier's  Ambigu.  He  at- 
attached  at  all  times,  as  we  have  already 
had  occasion  to  remark,  much  importance 
to  the  influence  of  the  press,  which  in  Paris 
he  had  taken  under  his  own  especial  super- 
intendence, and  for  which  he  himself  often 
condescended  to  compose  or  correct  para- 
graphs. To  be  assailed,  therefore,  by 
the  whole  body  of  British  newspapers,  al- 
most as  numerous  as  their  navy,  seems  to 
have  provoked  him  to  the  extremity  of  his 
patience  ;  and  resentment  of  these  attacks 
aggravated  the  same  hostile  sentiments 
against  England,  which,  from  causes  of  sus- 
picion already  mentioned,  had  begun  to  be 
engendered  in  the  British  public  against 
France  and  her  ruler. 

Napoleon,  in  the  meantime,  endeavoured 
to  answer  in  kind,  and  the  columns  of  the 
Moniteur  had  many  an  angry  and  violent 
passage  directed  against  England.  Answers, 
replies,  and  rejoinders  passed  rapidly  across 
the  Channel,  inflaming  and  augmenting  the 
hostile  spirit,  reciprocally  entertained  by 
the  two  countries  against  each  other.  But 
there  was  this  great  disadvantage  on  Buon- 
aparte's side,  that  while  the  English  might 
justly  throw  the  blame  of  this  scandalous 
warfare  on  the  license  of  a  free  press,  the 
Chief  Consul  could  not  transfer  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  attack  on  his  side  ;  because  it 
was  universally  known,  that  the  French  pe- 
riodical publications  being  under  the  most 
severe  regulations,  nothing  could  appear 
in  them  except  what  had  received  the  pre- 
vious sanction  of  the  government.  Every 
attack  upon  England,  therefore,  which  was 
published  in  the  French  papers,  was  held 
to  express  the  personal  sentiments  of  the 
Chief  Consul,  who  thus,  by  destroying  the 
freedom  of  the  French  press,  had  rendered 
himself  answerable  for  every  such  license 
»s  it  was  permitted  to  take. 

It  became  speedily  plain,  that    Buona-  I 
parte  could  reap  no  advantage  from  a  con- 
test in  which  he  was  to  be  the  defendant  in 
his  own  person,  and  to   maintain  a  literary 
warfare  with  anonymons  antagonists.     He  ! 
had  recourse,  therefore,  to  a  demand  upon  i 
the  British  government,  and,  after  various  I 
rtpreeentations   of  milder  import,  caused  ; 


his  envoy,  Monsieur  Otto,  to  state  in  an  of- 
ficial note  the  following  distinct  grievances  i 
— First,  the  existence  of  a  deep  and  contin- 
ued system  to  injure  the  character  of  the 
First  Consul,  and  prejudice  the  effect  of  his 
public  measures,  through  the  medium  of 
the  press  :  Secondly,  the  permission  of  a 
part  of  the  Princes  of  the  House  of  Bour- 
bon, and  their  adherents,  to  remain  in  Eng- 
land, for  the  purpose,  (it  was  alleged,)  that 
they  might  hatch  and  encourage  schemes 
against  the  life  and  government  of  the  Chief 
Consul.  It  was  therefore  categorically  de- 
manded, 1st,  That  the  British  government 
do  put  a  stop  to  the  publication  of  the  ab»-- 
complained  of,  as  affecting  the  head  o 
French  government.  2d,  That  the  emi- 
grants residing  in  Jersey  be  dismissed  from 
England — that  the  bishops  who  had  declin- 
ed to  resign  their  sees  be  also  sent  out  of 
the  country — that  George  Cadoudal  be 
transported  to  Canada — that  the  Princes  of 
the  House  of  Bourbon  be  advised  to  repair 
to  Warsaw,  where  the  head  of  their  family 
now  resided — and,  finally,  that  such  emi- 
grants who  continued  to  wear  the  ancient 
badges  and  decorations  of  the  French  court, 
be  also  compelled  to  leave  England.  Lest 
the  British  ministers  should  plead,  that  the 
constitution  of  their  country  precluded 
them  from  gratifying  the  First  Consul  in 
any  of  these  demands.  Monsieur  Otto  fore- 
stalled the  objection,  by  reminding  them, 
that  the  Alien  Act  gave  them  full  power  to 
exclude  any  foreigners  from  Great  Britain 
at  their  pleasure. 

To  this  peremptory  mandate,  Lord 
Hawkesburj-,  then  Minister  for  Foreign 
Affairs,  instructed  the  British  agent,  Mr. 
Merry,  to  make  a  reply,  at  once  firm  and 
conciliatory ;  avoiding  the  tone  of  pique 
and  ill  temper  which  is  plainly  to  be  traced 
in  the  French  note,  yet  maintaining  the  dig- 
nity of  the  nation  he  represented.  It  was 
observed,  that,  if  the  French  government 
had  reason  to  complain  of  the  license  of 
the  English  journals,  the  British  govern- 
ment had  no  less  right  to  be  dissatisfied 
with  the  retorts  and  recriminations  which 
had  been  poured  out  from  those  of  Paris  5 
and  that  there  was  this  remarkable  feature 
of  difference  betwixt  them,  that  the  Eng- 
lish Ministry  neither  had,  could  have,  nor 
wished  to  have,  any  control  over  the  free- 
dom of  the  British  press  3  whereas  the  Mo- 
niteur, in  which  the  abuse  of  England  had 
appeared,  was  the  official  organ  of  the 
French  government.  But,  finally  upon  this 
point,  the  British  Monarch,  it  was  said, 
would  make  no  concession  to  any  foreign 
power,  at  the  expense  of  the  freedom  of 
the  press.  If  what  was  published  was  li- 
bellous or  actionable,  the  printers  and  pub- 
lishers were  open  to  punishment,  and  all 
reasonable  facilities  would  be  afforded  for 
prosecuting  them.  To  the  demands  so  per- 
emptorily urged,  respecting  the  emigrants. 
Lord  Hawkesbury  replied,  by  special  an- 
swers applying  to  the  different  classes,  bat 
summed  up  in  the  general  argument,  that 
his  Majesty  neither  encouraged  them  in 
any  scheme  against  the  French  government. 
Dor  did  he  believe  there  were  any  such  ia 


374 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLIII. 


existence;  and  that  while  these  unfortu- 
nate princes  and  their  followers  lived  in 
conformity  to  the  laws  of  Great  Britain, 
and  without  affording  nations  with  whom 
she  was  at  peace  any  valid  or  sufficient 
cause  of  complaint,  his  Majesty  would  feel 
it  inconsistent  with  his  dignity,  his  honour, 
and  the  common  laws  of  hospitality,  to  de- 
prive them  of  that  protection,  which  indi- 
viduals resident  within  the  British  domin- 
ions could  only  forfeit  by  their  own  miscon- 
duct. 

To  render  these  answers,  being  the  only 
reply  which  an  English  Minister  could 
have  made  to  the  demands  of  France,  in 
■some  degree  acceptable  to  Buonaparte, 
Peltier  was  brought  to  trial  for  a  libel 
against  the  First  Consul,  at  the  instance 
of  the  Attorney-General.  He  was  defend- 
ed by  Mr.  Mackintosh,  (now  Sir  James.)  in 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  speeches  ever  made 
at  bar  or  in  forum,  in  which  the  jury  were 
reminded,  that  every  press  on  the  conti- 
nent was  enslaved,  from  Palermo  to  Ham- 
burgh, and  that  they  were  now  to  vindicate 
the  right  we  had  ever  asserted,  to  speak  of 
men  both  at  home  and  abroad,  not  accord- 
ing to  their  greatness,  but  their  crimes. 

The  defendant  was  found  guilty  ;  but  his 
cause  might  be  considered  as  triumphant.* 
Accordingly,  every  part  of  the  proceedings 
gave  offence  to  Buonaparte.  He  had  not 
desired  to  be  righted  by  the  English  law, 
but  by  a  vigour  beyond  the  law.  The  pub- 
licity of  the  trial,  the  wit  and  eloquence  of 
the  advocate,  were  ill  calculated  to  soothe 
the  feelings  of  Buonaparte,  who  knew  hu- 
man nature,  and  the  character  of  his  usurp- 
ed power,  too  well,  to  suppose  that  public 
discussion  could  be  of  service  to  him.  He 
had  demanded  darkness,  the  English  gov- 
ernment had  answered  by  giving  him  light ; 
he  had  wished,  like  those  who  are  con- 
Bcions  of  flaws  in  their  conduct,  to  suppress 
all  censure  of  his  measures,  and  by  Peltier's 
trial,  the  British  ministers  had  made  the 
investigation  of  them  a  point  of  legal  ne- 
cessity. The  First  Consul  felt  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  himself,  rather  than 
Peltier,  was  tried  before  the  British  public, 
with  a  publicity  which  could  not  fail  to 
blaze  abroad  the  discussion.  Far  from  con- 
ceiving himself  obliged  by  the  species  of 
atonement  which  had  been  offered  him,  he 
deemed  the  offence  of  the  original  publica- 
tion was  greatly  aggravated,  and  placed  it 
now  directly  to  the  account  of  the  English 
-ministe's,  of  whom  he  could  never  be  made 
to  understand,  that  they  had  afforded  him 
the  only  remedy  in  their  power. 

The  paragraphs  hostile  to  England  in  the 
Moniteur  were  continued  ;  an  English  pa- 
per called  the  Argus,  conducted  by  Irish 
refugees,  was  printed  at  Paris,  under  per- 
mission of  the  government,  for  the  purpose 
of  assailing  Britain  with  additional  abuse, 
while  the  fire  was  returned  from  the  Eng- 
lish side  of  the  Channel,  with  double  vehe- 
mence and  tenfold  success.     These  were 


*  He  wa3  never  brought  up  to  receive  sentence, 
our  quarrel  with  the  French  having  soon  afler- 
traiOB  come  to  an  abaoluto  rupture. 


ominous  precursors  to  a  state  of  peace,  and 
more  grounds  of  misunderstanding  were 
daily  added. 

The  new  discussions  related  '■hiefly  to 
the  execution  of  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  in 
which  the  English  government  showed  no 
promptitude.  Most  of  the  French  colo- 
nies, it  is  true,  had  been  restored  ;  but  the 
Cape,  and  the  other  Batavian  settlements, 
above  all,  the  island  of  Malta,  were  still 
possessed  by  the  British  forces.  At  com- 
mon law,  if  the  expression  may  be  used, 
England  was  bound  instantly  to  redeem 
her  engagement,  by  ceding  these  posses- 
sions, and  thus  fulfilling  the  articles  of  the 
treaty.  In  equity,  she  had  a  good  defence  ; 
since  in  policy,  for  herself  and  Europe,  she 
was  bound  to  decline  the  cession  at  all 
risks. 

The  recent  acquisitions  of  France  on  the 
continent,  afforded  the  plea  of  equity  to 
which  we  have  alluded.     It  was  founded  on 
the  principle  adopted  at  the  treaty  of  Ami- 
ens, that  Great   Britain  should,  out  of  her 
conquests  over  the  enemy's  foreign  settle- 
ments, retain  so  much  as  to  counter-balance, 
in  some  measure,  the  power  which  France 
had   acquired  in   Europe.     This  principle 
being  once  established,  it  followed  that  the 
compact  at  Amiens  had  reference  to  the 
then  existing  state  of  things ;    and  since, 
after  that  period,  France  had  extended  her 
sway  over  Italy  and  Piedmont,  England  be- 
came thereby  entitled  to  retain  an  additional 
compensation,  in  consequence  of  France's 
additional  acquisitions.     This  was  the  true 
and  simple  position  of  the  case;  France 
had    innovated    upon   the   state   of  things 
which  existed  when  the  treaty  was  made, 
and  England  might,  therefore,  in  justice, 
claim  an  equitable  right  to  innovate  upon 
the  treaty  itself,  by  refusing  to  make  sur- 
render of  what  had  been  promised  in  other 
and  very  different  circumstances.     Perhaps 
it  had  been  better  to  fix  upon  this  obvious 
principle,  as  the  ground  of  declining  to  sur- 
render such  British  conquests  as  were  not 
yet  given  up.  unless  France  consented  to 
relinquish  the  power  which  she  had  usurped 
upon  tlie  continent.     This,  however,  would 
have  produced  instant  war  ;  and  the  Minis- 
ters were   naturally  loath  to  abandon  the 
prospect  of  prolonging   the  peace  which 
had  been  so  lately  established,  or  to  draw 
their  pen  througli  the   treaty   of  Amiens, 
while   the   ink  with  which  it  was  written 
was  still  moist.    They  yielded,  therefore, 
in  a  great  measure.    The  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  and  the  Dutch  colonies  were  restor- 
ed, Alexandria  was  evacuated,  and  the  Min- 
isters confined  their  discussions  with  France 
to  the  island  of  Malta  only ;  and,  conde- 
scending still  farther,  declared  themselves 
ready  to  concede  even  this  last  point  of 
discussion,  providing  a  sufficient  guarantee 
should  be  obtained  for  this  important  cita- 
del of  the  Mediterranean  being  retained  in 
neutral  hands.     The  Order  itself  was  in  no 
respect  adequate  to  the  purpose  ;  and  as  to 
the  proposed  Neapolitan  garrison,  (none  of 
the  most  trust-worthy  in  any  case,)  France, 
by  her  encroachments  in  Italy,  had  become 
so  near  and  so  formidable  a  neighbour  to 


Chap.  XLIIl] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


375 


the  King  of  Naples,  that,  by  a  threat  of  in- 
vasion of  his  capital,  she  might  have  com- 
pelled him  to  deliver  up  Malta  upon  a  very 
brief  notice.  .\11  this  was  urged  on  the 
part  of  Britain.  The  French  ministry,  on 
the  other  hand,  pressed  for  literal  execution 
of  the  treaty,  .\fter  some  diplomatic  eva- 
eions  had  been  resorted  to,  it  appeared  as 
if  the  cession  could  be  no  longer  deferred, 
when  a  publication  appeared  in  the  Moni- 
teur.  which  roused  to  a  high  pitch  the  sus- 
picions, as  well  as  the  indignation  of  the 
British  nation. 

The  publication  alluded  to  was  a  report 
of  General  Sebastiani.  This  officer  had 
been  sent  as  the  emissary  of  the  First  Con- 
sul, to  various  Mahommedan  courts  in 
Asia  and  Africa,  in  all  of  which  it  seems  to 
have  been  his  object,  not  only  to  exalt  the 
greatness  of  his  master,  but  to  misrepresent 
and  degrade  the  character  of  England.  He 
had  visited  Egypt,  of  which,  with  its  fortress- 
es, and  the  troops  which  defended  them,  he 
haJd  made  a  complete  survey.  He  then  wait- 
ed upon  Djezzar  Pacha,  and  gives  a  flattering 
.-iccount  of  his  reception,  and  of  the  high 
esteem  in  which  Djezzar  held  the  First 
Consul,  whom  he  had  so  many  reasons  for 
wishing  well  to.  At  the  Ionian  Islands,  he 
harangued  the  natives,  and  assured  them  of 
the  protection  of  Buonaparte.  The  whole 
report  is  full  of  the  most  hostile  expres- 
sions towards  England,  and  accuses  General 
.Stuart  of  having  encouraged  the  Turks  to 
assassinate  the  vfriter.  Wherever  Sebasti- 
ani went,  he  states  himself  to  have  interfer- 
ed in  the  factions  and  quarrels  of  the  coun- 
try ;  he  inquired  into  its  forces ;  renewed 
old  intimacies,  or  made  new  ones  with 
leading  persons  ;  enhanced  his  master's 
power,  and  was  liberal  in  promises  of 
French  aid.  He  concludes,  that  a  French 
army  of  sis  thousand  men  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  conquer  Egypt,  and  that  the  Ionian 
Islands  were  altogether  attached  to  the 
French  interest. 

The   publication   of  this   report,   which 
seemed   as  if  Buonaparte  were  blazoning 
forth  to  the  world  his  unaltered  determina- 
tion to  persist  in  his  Eastern  projects  of 
colonization  and  conquest,  would  have  ren-  I 
dered  it  an  act  of  treason  in  the  English 
Ministers,  if,  by  the  cession  of  Malta,  they  i 
had  put  into  his  hand,  or  at  least  placed  [ 
within  his  grasp,  the   readiest  means  of  ] 
carrying    into    execution    those     gigantic 
schemes  of  ambition,  which  had  for  their  | 
ultimate,  perhaps  their  most  desired  object,  | 
the  destruction  of  the  Indian  commerce  of  I 
Britain.  ! 

As   it  were  by  way  of  corollary  to  the  ! 
gasconading  journal  of  Sebastiani,  an  elabo-  | 
rate  account  of  the  forces,  and  natural  ad-  j 
vantages  of  France,  was  published  at  the 
same   period,   which,    in  order   that  there 
might  be  no  doubt  concerning  the  purpose  ' 
of  its  appearance  at  this  crisis,  was  sum-  * 
med  up  by  the  express  conclusion.  "  that 
Britaii>  was  unable  to  contend  with  France 
single-handed."    Thi-s  tone  of  defiance,  of- 
ficially adopted  at  such  a  moment,  added 
not  a  little  to  the  resentment  of  the  F-ndish 


nation,  not  accustomed  to  decline  a  chal- 
lenge or  endure  an  insult. 

The  Court  of  Britain,  on  the  appearance 
of  this  Report  on  the  State  of  France,  to- 
gether with  that  of  Sebastiani,  drawn  up 
and  subscribed  by  an  official  agent,  con- 
taining insinuations  totally  void  of  founda- 
tion, and  disclosing  intrigues  inconsistent 
with  the  preservation  of  peace,  and  the 
objects  for  which  peace  had  been  made, 
declared  that  the  King  would  enter  into  no 
farther  discussion  on  the  subject  of  Malta, 
until  his  Majesty  had  received  the  most 
ample  satisfaction  for  this  new  and  singular 
aggression. 

While  things  were  thus  rapidly  approach- 
ing to  a  rupture,  the  Chief  Consul  adopted 
the  unusual  resolution,  of  himself  entering 
personally  into  conference  with  the  British 
ambassador.  He  probably  took  this  deter- 
mination upon  the  same  grounds  which 
dictated  his  contempt  of  customary  forms, 
in  entering,  or  attempting  to  enter,  into 
direct  correspondence  with  the  princes 
whom  he  had  occasion  to  treat  with.  Such 
a  deviation  from  the  established  mode  of 
procedure  seemed  to  mark  his  elevation 
above  ordinary  rules,  and  would  afford  him, 
he  might  think,  an  opportunity  of  bearing 
down  the  British  ambassador's  reasoning, 
by  exhibiting  one  of  those  bursts  of  passion, 
to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  see 
most  men  give  way. 

It  would  have  been  more  prudent  in  Na- 
poleon to  have  left  the  conduct  of  the  ne- 
gotiation to  Talleyrand.  A  sovereign  can- 
not enter  in  person  upon  such  conferences, 
unless  with  the  previous  determination  of 
adhering  precisely  and  finally  to  whatever 
ultimatum  he  has  to  propose.  He  cannot, 
without  a  compromise  of  dignity,  chaffer 
or  capitulate,  or  even  argue,  and  of  course 
is  incapable  of  wielding  any  of  the  usual, 
and  almost  indispensable  weapons  of  nejo- 
tiators.  If  it  was  Napoleon's  expectation, 
by  one  stunning  and  emphatic  declaration 
of  his  pleasure,  to  beat  down  all  arguments, 
and  confound  all  opposition,  he  would  have 
done  wisely  to  remember,  that  he  was  not 
now.  as  in  other  cases,  a  general  upon  a 
victorious  field  of  battle,  dictating  terms  to 
a  defeated  enemy  ;  but  was  treating  upon  a 
footing  of  equality  with  Britain,  the  mis- 
tress of  the  seas,  possessing  strength  as 
formidable  as  his  own,  though  of  a  difierenl 
character,  and  whose  prince  and  people 
were  far  more  likely  to  be  incensed  than 
intimidated  by  any  menaces  which  his  pas- 
sion might  throw  out. 

The  character  of  the  English  ambassador 
was  as  unfavourable  for  the  Chief  Consul's 
probable  purpose,  as  that  of  the  nation  he 
represented.  Lord  Whitworth  was  pos- 
sessed of  great  experience  and  sagacity. 
His  integrity  and  honour  were  undoubted  ; 
and.  with  the  highest  degree  of  courage,  he 
had  a  calm  and  collected  disposition,  admi- 
rably calculated  to  give  him  the  advantage 
in  any  discussion  with  an  aiitasonist,  of  a 
fiery,  impatient,  and  overbearing  temper. 

We  will  make  no  apology  for  dwelling  at 
unusual   length  on  the  conferences  betwiit 


37S 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE, 


[CAap.  XLIU. 


the  First  Consul  and  Lord  Whitworth, 
as  they  are  strikingly  illustrative  of  the 
character  of  Buonaparte,  and  were  in  their 
consequences  decisive  of  his  fate,  and  that 
of  the  world. 

Their  first  interview  of  a  political  nature 
took  place  in  the  Tuilleries,  17th  February 
1803.  Buonaparte,  having  announced  that 
this  meeting  was  for  the  purpose  of  "  mak- 
ing his  sentiments  known  to  the  King  of 
England  in  a  clear  and  authentic  manner,'' 
proceeded  to  talk  incessantly  for  the  space 
of  nearly  two  hours,  not  without  considera- 
ble incoherence,  his  temper  rising  as  he 
dwelt  on  the  alleged  causes  of  complaint 
which  he  preferred  against  England,  thougli 
not  so  much  or  so  incautiously  as  to  make 
him  drop  the  usual  tone  of  courtesy  to  the 
ambassador. 

He  complained  of  the  delay  of  the  British 
in  evacuating  Alexandria  and  Malta;  cut- 
ting short  all  discussion  on  the  latter  sub- 
j-jct,  by  declaring  he  would  as  soon  agree 
to  Britain's  possessing  the  suburb  of  St. 
Antoine  as  that  island.  He  then  referred 
to  the  abuse  thrown  upon  him  by  the  Eng- 
lish papers,  but  more  especially  by  those 
French  journals  published  in  London.  He 
affirmed  that  Georges  and  other  Chouan 
chiefs,  whom  he  accused  of  designs  against 
his  life,  received  relief  or  shelter  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  that  two  assassins  had  been  ap- 
prehended in  Normandy,  sent  over  by  the 
French  emigrants  to  murder  him.  TThis, 
he  said,  would  be  publicly  proved  in  a 
court  of  justice.  From  this  point  he  di- 
verged to  Eg}'pt,  of  which  he  affirmed  he 
could  make  himself  master  whenever  he 
Lad  a  mind ;  but  that  he  considered  it  too 
paltry  a  stake  to  renew  the  war  for.  Yet 
while  on  this  subject,  he  suffered  it  to  es- 
cape him,  that  the  idea  of  recovering  this 
favoured  colony  was  only  postponed,  not 
abandoned.  "  Egypt,"  he  said,  '■'  must  soon- 
er or  later  belong  to  France,  either  by  the 
falling  to  pieces  of  the  Turkish  govern- 
ment, or  in  consequence  of  some  agree- 
ment with  the  Porte."  In  evidence  of  his 
peaceable  intentions,  he  asked,  what  he 
should  gain  by  going  to  war,  since  he  had 
no  means  of  acting  offensively  against  Eng- 
land, except  by  a  descent,  of  which  he  ac- 
knowledged the  hazard  in  the  strongest 
terms.  The  chances,  he  said,  were  an 
hundred  to  one  against  him;  and  yet  he 
declared  that  the  attempt  should  be  made 
if  he  were  nov/  obliged  to  go  to  war.  He 
estoUed  the  power  of  both  countries.  The 
army  of  France,  he  said,  should  be  soon 
recruited  to  four  hundred  and  eighty  thou- 
sand men  ;  and  the  fleets  of  England  were 
Buch  as  he  could  not  propose  to  match 
within  the  space  of  ten  years  at  least. 
United,  the  two  countries  might  govern  the 
world,  would  they  but  understand  each 
other.  Had  he  found,  he  said,  the  least 
cordiality  on  the  part  of  England,  she 
should  have  had  indemnities  assigned  her 
apon  the  continent,  treaties  of  commerce, 
all  that  she  could  wish  or  desire.  But  he 
confessed  that  his  irritation  increased  daily, 

?ulce  eTcry  gale  that  blew  from  England. 


brought  nothing    but  enmity    and    hatrod 
against  him." 

He  then  made  an  excursive  digression, 
in  which,  taking  a  review  of  the  nations  of 
Europe,  he  contended  that  England  could 
hope  for  assistance  from  none  of  them  in  a 
war  with  France.  In  the  total  result,  hu 
demanded  the  instant  Ailfilment  of  the 
treaty  of  Amiens,  and  the  suppression  of 
the  abuse  in  the  English  papers.  War  waa 
the  alternative. 

During  this  excursive  piece  of  declama- 
tion, which  the  First  Consul  delivered 
with  great  rapidity,  Lord  Whitworth,  not- 
withstanding the  interview  lasted  two  hours^ 
had  scarcely  time  to  slide  in  a  few  wordg 
in  reply  or  explanation.  As  he  endeavour- 
ed to  state  the  new  grounds  of  mistrust 
which  induced  the  King  of  England  to  de- 
mand more  advantageous  terms,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  accession  of  territory  and  in- 
tiuence  which  France  had  lately  made.  Na- 
poleon interrupted  him — "  I  suppose  you 
mean  Piedmont  and  Switzerland — they  are 
trifling  occurrences,  which  must  have  been 
foreseen  while  the  negotiation  was  in  de- 
pendence. You  have  no  right  to  recur  tc 
them  at  this  time  of  day."  To  the  hint  of 
indemnities  which  might  be  allotted  to  Eng 
land  out  of  the  general  spoil  of  Europe,  if 
she  would  cultivate  the  friendship  of  Buo- 
naparte, Lord  Whitworth  nobly  answered, 
that  the  King  of  Britain's  ambition  led  him 
to  preserve  what  was  his,  not  to  acquiro 
that  which  belonged  to  others.  They  part- 
ed with  civility,  but  with  a  conviction  on 
Lord  Whitworth's  part,  that  Buonaparte 
would  never  resign  his  claim  to  the  possce- 
sion  of  Malta. 

The  British  Ministry  were  of  the  8am« 
(Jpinion  ;  for  a  message  was  sent  down  by 
his  Majesty  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
stating,  that  he  had  occasion  for  additional 
aid  to  enable  him  to  defend  his  dominions, 
incase  of  an  encroachment  on  the  part  of 
France.  A  reason  was  given,  which  injur- 
ed the  cause  of  the  Ministers  by  placing 
the  vindication  of  their  measures  upon  sim- 
ulated grounds  ; — it  was  stated,  that  thess 
apprehensions  arose  from  naval  prepara- 
tions in  the  difierent  ports  of  France.  No 
such  preparations  had  been  complained  of 
during  the  intercourse  between  the  minis- 
ters of  France  and  England, — in  truth,  none 
such  existed  to  any  considerable  extent, — 
and  in  so  far,  the  British  ministers  gave  the 
advantage  to  the  French,  by  not  resting  the 
cause  of  their  country  on  the  just  and  true 
grounds.  All,  however,  were  sensible  of 
the  real  merits  of  the  dispute,  which  were 
grounded  on  the  grasping  and  inordinate 
ambition  of  the  French  ruler,  and  the  sen- 
timents of  dislike  and  irritation  with  which  * 
he  seemed  to  regard  Great  Britain. 

The  charge  of  the  pretended  naval  pre- 
paration being  triumphantly  refuted  by 
France,  Talleyrand  was  next  employed  to 
place  before  Lord  Whitworth  the  means 
which,  in  case  of  a  rupture,  France  pos- 
sessed of  wounding  England,  not  directly, 
indeed,  but  through  the  sides  of  those  states 
of  Europe  whom  she  would  most  wish  ta 


Chap.  XUIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


377 


see,  if  not  absolutely  independent,  yet  un- 
oppressed  by  military  exactions.  "  It  was 
natural,"  a  note  of  this  statesman  assert- 
ed, "  that  Britain  being  armed  in  conse- 
quence of  the  King's  message,  France 
should  arm  also — that  she  should  send  an 
army  into  Holland — form  an  encampment 
on  the  frontiers  of  Hanover — continue  to 
maintain  troops  in  .Switzerland — march  oth- 
ers to  the  south  of  Italy,  and,  finally,  form 
encampments  upon  the  coast."'  All  these 
threats,  excepting  the  last,  referred  to  dis- 
tant and  to  neutral  nations,  who  were  not  al- 
leged to  have  themselves  given  any  cause 
of  complaint  to  France ;  but  who  were 
now  to  be  subjected  to  military  occupation 
and  exaction,  because  Britain  desired  to  see 
them  happy  and  independent,  and  because 
harassing  and  oppressing  them  must  be  in 
proportion  unpleasing  to  her.  It  was  an 
entirely  new  principle  of  warlike  policy, 
which  introduced  the  oppression  of  unof- 
fending and  neutral  neighbours  as  a  legiti- 
mate mode  of  carrying  on  war  against  a 
hostile  power,  against  whom  there  was  lit- 
tle possibility  of  using  measures  directly 
offensive. 

Shortly  after  this  note  had  been  lodged, 
Buonaparte,  incensed  at  the  message  of  the 
King  to  Parliament,  seems  to  have  formed 
the  scheme  of  bringing  the  protracted  ne- 
gotiations betwixt  France  and  England  to  a 
point,  in  a  time,  place,  and  manner,  equal- 
ly extraordinary.  At  a  public  Court  held 
at  the  Tuilleries,  on  the  13th  March  1803, 
the  Chief  Consul  came  up  to  Lord  Whit- 
worth  in  considerable  agitation,  and  ob- 
served aloud,  and  within  hearing  of  the  cir- 
cle,— "  You  are  then  determined  on  war  ?" 
— and,  without  attending  to  the  disclama- 
tions of  the  English  ambassador,  proceed- 
ed,— "  We  have  been  at  war  for  fifteen 
years — you  are  determined  on  hostility  for 
fifteen  years  more — and  you  force  me  to 
it."  He  then  addressed  Count  Marco w  and 
the  Chevalier  A.zzwro. — •'  The  English  wish 
for  war ;  but  if  they  draw  the  sword  first, 
I  will  be  the  last  to  return  it  to  the  scab- 
bard. They  do  not  respect  treaties,  which 
henceforth  we  must  cover  with  black 
crape  I"  He  then  again  addressed  Lord 
Whitworth — "  To  what  purpose  are  those 
armaments  ?  Against  whom  do  you  take 
these  measures  of  precaution  ?  I  have  not 
a  single  ship  of  the  line  in  any  port  in 
France — But  if  you  arm,  I  too  will  take  up 
arms — if  you  fight,  I  will  fight — you  may 
destroy  France,  but  you  cannot  intimidate 
her." 

•'  We  desire  neither  the  one  nor  the  oth- 
er." answered  Lord  Whitworth,  calmly. — 
■•  We  desire  to  live  with  her  on  terms  of 
rjood  intelligence." 

■'  You  must  respect  treaties  then,"  said 
Buonaparte,  sternly.  "  Woe  to  those  by 
whom  they  are  not  respected  I  They  will 
l>e  accountable  for  the  consequences'to  all 
h'.urope." 

.'Jo  saying,  and  repeating  his  las*  remark 
twice  over,  he  retired  from  the  levee,  leav- 
ing the  whole  circle  surprised  at  the  want 
of  decency  and  dignity  which  had  given 
rise  to  such  a  scene. 


Tliis  remarkable  explosion  may  be  easily 
explained,  if  we  refer  it  entirely  to  the  im- 
patience of  a  fiery  temper,  rendered,  by  the 
most  extraordinary  train  of  success,  mor- 
bidly  sensitive  to  any  obstacle  which  inter- 
fered with  a  favourite  plan  ;  and,  doubtless, 
it  is  not  the  least  evil  of  arbitrary  power, 
that  he  who  possesses  it  is  naturally  tempt- 
ed to  mix  up  his  own  feelings  of  anger, 
revenge,  or  mortification,  in  affairs  which 
ought  to  be  treated  under  the  most  calm 
and  impartial  reference  to  the  public  good 
exclusively.  But  it  has  been  averred  by 
those  who  had  best  opportunity  to  know 
Buonaparte,  that  the  fits  of  violent  passion 
wliicli  he  sometimes  displayed,  were  leas 
tlie  bursts  of  unrepressed  and  constitution- 
al irritability,  than  means  previously  calcu- 
lated upon  to  intimidate  and  astound  those 
with  whom  he  was  treating  at  the  time. 
There  may,  therefore,  have  been  policy 
amid  the  First  Consul's  indignation,  and  he 
may  have  recollected,  that  the  dashing  to 
pieces  Cobenzell's  china-jar  in  the  violent 
scene  which  preceded  the  signing  of  the 
treaty  of  Campo  Formio,*  was  completely 
successful  in  its  issue.  But  the  condi- 
tion of  Britain  was  very  different  from  that 
of  Austria,  and  he  might  have  !_roken  all 
the  porcelain  at  St.  Cloud  without  making 
the  slightest  impression  on  the  equanimity 
of  Lord  Whitworth.  This  "  angry  parle," 
therefore,  went  for  nothing,  unless  in  so  far 
as  it  was  considered  as  cutting  off  the  iaint 
remaining  hope  of  peace,  and  expressing 
the  violent  and  obstinate  temper  of  the 
individual,  upon  whose  pleasure,  whether 
originating  in  judgment  or  caprice,  the  fate 
of  Europe  at  this  important  crisis  unhappi- 
ly depended.  In  England,  the  interview  at 
the  Tuilleries,  where  Britain  was  held  to 
be  insulted  in  the  person  of  her  ambassa- 
dor, and  that  in  the  presence  of  the  repre- 
sentatives of  all  Europe,  greatly  augment- 
ed the  general  spirit  of  resentment. 

Talleyrand,  to  whom  Lord  Whitworth  ap- 
plied for  an  explanation  of  the  scene  which 
had  occurred,  only  answered,  that  the  First 
Consul,  publicly  affronted,  as  he  conceived 
himself,  desired  to  exculpate  himself  in  pres- 
ence of  the  u.inisters  of  all  the  powers  of 
Europe.  The  question  of  peace  or  war 
came  now  to  turn  on  the  subject  of  Malta. 
The  retention  of  this  fortress  by  the  Eng- 
lish could  infer  no  danger  to  France;  where- 
as, if  parted  with  by  them  under  an  insecure 
guarantee,  the  great  probability  of  its  falling 
into  the  hands  of  France,  was  a  subject  of 
the  most  legitimate  jealousy  to  Britain,  who 
must  always  have  regarded  the  occupation 
of  Malta  as  a  preliminary  step  to  the  recap- 
ture of  Egypt.  There  seemed  policy,  there- 
fore, in  Napoleon's  conceding  this  point,  and 
obtaining  for  France  that  respite,  which, 
while  it  regained  her  colonies  and  recruit- 
ed her  commerce,  would  have  afforded  her 
the  means  of  renewing  a  navy,  which  had 
been  almost  totally  destroyed  daring  the 
war,  and  consequently  of  engaging  Eng- 
land, at  some  future  and  propitious  time,  on 
the  element  which  she  called  peculiarly 

•Seep.  i277 


37S 


LIFE  OF  AAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLIV. 


her  own.  It  was  accordingly  supposed  to 
be  Talleyrand's  opinion,  that,  by  giving 
way  to  England  on  (he  subject  of  Malta, 
Napoleon  ought  to  lull  her  suspicions  to 
sleep. 

Yet  there  were  strong  reasons,  besides 
the  military  character  of  Buonaparte,  which 
might  induce  the  First  Consul  to  break  off 
negotiation.  Hi^  empire  was  founded  on 
the  general  opinion  entertained  of  his  in- 
flexibility of  purpose,  and  of  his  unvaried 
success,  alike  in  political  objects  as  in  the 
field  of  battle.  Were  he  to  concede  the 
principle  which  England  now  contested 
with  him  in  the  face  of  Europe,  it  would 
have  in  a  certain  degree  derogated  from 
the  pre-eminence  of  the  situation  he  claim- 
ed, as  Autocrat  of  the  civilized  world.  In 
that  character  he  could  not  recede  an  inch 
from  pretensions  which  he  had  once  as- 
serted. To  have  allowed  that  his  encroach- 
ment on  Switzerland  and  Piedmont  render- 
ed it  necessary  that  he  should  grant  a  com- 
pensation to  England  by  consenting  to  her 
retention  of  Malta,  would  have  been  to 
grant  that  Britain  had  still  a  right  to  inter- 
fere in  the  affairs  of  the  Continent,  and  to 
point  her  out  to  nations  disposed  to  throw 
off  the  French  yoke,  as  a  power  to  whose 
mediation  he  still   owed  some  deference. 


Tliese  reasons  were  not  without  force  in 
themselves,  and,  joined  to  the  natural  im- 
petuosity of  Buonaparte's  temper,  irritated 
and  stung  by  the  attacks  in  the  English  pa- 
pers, had  their  weight  probably  in  inducing 
him  to  give  way  to  that  sally  of  resent- 
ment, by  which  he  endeavoured  to  cut 
short  the  debate,  as  he  would  have  brought 
up  his  guard  in  person  to  decide  the  fate  of 
a  long-disputed  action. 

Some  lingering  and  hopeless  attempts 
were  made  to  carry  on  negotiations.  The 
English  Ministry  lowered  their  claim  of 
retaining  Malta  in  perpetuity,  to  the  right 
of  holding  it  for  ten  years.  Buonaparte,  on 
the  other  hand,  would  listen  to  no  modifi- 
cation of  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  but  offered, 
as  the  guarantee  aflbrded  by  the  occupa- 
tion of  Neapolitan  troops  was  objected  to, 
that  the  garrison  should  consist  of  Rus- 
sians or  Austrians.  To  this  proposal  Brit- 
ain would  not  accede.  Lord  Whitworth 
left  Paris,  and,  on  the  18th  May  1803,  Brit- 
ain declared  war  against  France. 

Before  we  proceed  to  detail  the  history 
of  this  eventful  struggle,  we  must  cast  our 
eyes  backwards,  and  review  some  events  of 
importance  which  had  happened  in  France 
since  the  conclusion  of  the  treaty  of  Amiens. 


CHAP.  XLIV. 

Retrospect. — St.  Domingo. —  The  Negroes,  victorious  over  the  Whites  and  Mulaltoes,  split 
into  parties  under  different  Chiefs — Toussaint  L' Ouverture  the  most  distinguished  of 
these. — His  Plans  for  the  amelioration  of  his  Subjects. — Appoints,  in  imitation  of 
France,  a  Consular  Government. — France  sends  an  Expedition  against  St.  Domingo, 
under  General  Leclerc.  in  December  1801,  which  is  successful,  and  Toussaint  submits. 
After  a  brief  interval,  he  is  sent  to  France,  lohere  he  dies  under  the  hardships  of  con- 
finement.—  The  French,  visited  by  Yellow  Fever,  are  assaulted  by  the  Negroes,  and 
War  is  carried  on  of  new  with  dreadful  fury. — Leclerc  is  cu(  off  by  the  distemper,  and 
is  succeeded  by  Rochamheau. —  The  French  finally  obliged  to  capitidate  to  an  English 
Squadron,  on  1st  December  1803. — Buonaparte's  scheme  to  consolidate  his  power  at 
home. —  The  Corisular  Guard  augmented  to  6000  men — Description  of  it. — Legion  of 
Honour — Account  of  it. — Opposition  formed,  on  the  principle  of  the  English  one, 
against  the  Consular  Government. —  They  oppose  the  establishment  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour,  which,  however,  is  carried. — Application  to  the  Count  de  Provence  (Louis 
XVHL)  to  resign  the  Crown — Rejected. 


When  the  treaty  of  Amiens  appeared  to 
have  restored  peace  to  Europe,  one  of  Buo- 
naparte's first  enterprises  was  to  attempt  the 
recovery  of  the  French  possessions  in  the 
large,  rich,  and  valuable  colony  of  St.  Do- 
mingo, the  disasters  of  which  island  form  a 
terrible  episode  in  the  history  of  the  war. 

The  convulsions  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion had  reached  St.  Domingo,  and,  catch- 
ing like  fire  to  combustibles,  had  bred  a 
violent  feud  between  the  white  people  in 
the  island,  and  the  mulattoes,  the  latter  of 
whom  demanded  to  be  admitted  into  the 
privileges  and  immunities  of  the  former  ; 
the  newly-established  rights  of  men,  as  they 
alleged,  having  no  reference  to  the  distinc- 
tion of  colour.  While  the  whites  and  the 
people  of  colour  were  thus  engaged  in  a 
civil  war,  the  negro  slaves,  the  most  op- 
pressed and  most  numerous  class  of  the 
population,  arose  against  both  parties,  and 
rendered  the  whole   island  one  scene  of 


bloodshed  and  conflagration.  The  few  plant- 
ers who  remained  invited  the  support  of  the 
British  arms,  which  easily  effected  a  tem- 
porary conquest.  But  the  European  soldie- 
ry perished  so  fast  through  the  influence  of 
the  climate,  that,  in  1798,  the  English  were 
glad  to  abandon  an  island,  which  had  prov- 
ed the  grave  of  so  many  of  her  best  and 
bravest,  who  had  fallen  without  a  wound, 
and  void  of  renown. 

The  negroes,  left  to  themselves,  divided 
into  different  parties,  who  submitted  to  the 
authority  of  chiefs  more  or  less  independent 
of  each  other,  many  of  whom  displayed  con- 
siderable talent.  Of  these  the  principal 
leader  was  Toussaint  L'Ouverture,  who, 
after  waging  war  like  a  savage,  appears  to 
have  used  the  power  which  victory  procur- 
ed him  with  much  political  skill.  .Although 
himself  a  negro,  he  had  the  sagacity  to  per- 
ceive how  important  it  was  for  the  civiliza- 
tion of  his  subjects,  that  they  should  not  be 


Chap.  XLir.] 


LIFE  OF  KAPOLEOX  BUOXAPARTE. 


!T9 


deprived  of  the  opportunities  of  knowledge,  |  salubrious  climate.  But  he  would  not  per- 
and  examples  of  industry,  afforded  them  by  I  mit  it  to  be  supposed,  that  there  was  the 
the  white  people.  He,  therefore,  protect-  |  least  danger;  and  he  exercised  an  act  of 
ed  and  encouraged  the  latter,  and  establish-  |  family  authority  on  the  subject,  to  prove 


ed,  as  an  equitable  regulation,  that  the 
blacks,  now  freemen,  should  nevertheless 
continue  to  labour  the  plantations  of  the 
white  colonists,  while  the  produce  of  the 
estate  should  be  divided  in  certain  propor- 
tions betwixt  the  white  proprietor  and  the 
sable  cultivator. 

The  le.ist  transgressions  of  these  regu- 
lations he  punished  with  African  ferocity. 
On  one  occasion,  a  white  female,  the  own- 
er of  a  plantation,  had  been  murdered  by  the 
negroes  by  whom  it  was  laboured,  and  who 
had  formerly  been  her  slaves.  Toussaint 
inarched  to  the  spot  at  the  head  of  a  party 
of  his  horse-guards,  collected  the  negroes 
belonging  to  the  plantation,  and  surrounded 
them  with  his  black  cavalry,  who,  after  a 
very  brief  inquiry,  received  orders  to  charge 
and  cut  them  to  pieces  ;  of  which  order  our 
informant  witnessed  the  execution.  His 
unrelenting  rigour,  joined  to  his  natural  sa- 
gacity, soon  raised  Toussaint  to  the  chief 
command  of  the  island ;  and  he  availed 
himself  of  the  maritime  peace,  to  consoli- 
date his  authority  by  establishing  a  consti- 
tution on  the  model  most  lately  approved 
of  in  France,  which  being  that  of  the  year 
Eight,  consisted  of  a  consular  government. 
Toussaint  failed  not,  of  course,  to  assume 
the  supreme  government  to  himself,  with 
power  to  name  his  successor.  The  whole  was 
a  parody  on  the  procedure  of  Buonaparte, 
which,  doubtless,  the  latter  was  not'highly 
pleased  with  ;  for  there  are  many  cases  in 
which  an  imitation  by  others, ^f  the  con- 
duct we  ourselves  have  held,  is  a  matter 
not  of  compliment,  but  of  the  most  severe 
satire.  The  constitution  of  St.  Domingo 
was  instantly  put  in  force,  although,  with 
an  ostensible  deference  to  France,  the 
sanction  of  her  government  had  been  cere- 
moniously required.  It  was  evident  that 
the  African,  though  not  unwilling  to  ac- 
knowledge some  nominal  degree  of  sove- 
reignty on   the  part  of  France,  was  deter 


that  such  were  his  real  sentiments.  His 
sister,  the  beautiful  Pauline,  afterwards  the 
wife  of  Prince  Borghese,  showed  the  ut- 
most reluctance  to  accompany  her  present 
husband.  General  Leclerc,  upon  the  expe- 
dition, and  only  went  on  board  when  actu- 
ally compelled  to  do  so  by  the  positive  or- 
ders of  the  First  Consul,  who,  although  she 
was  his  favourite  sister,  was  yet  better  con- 
tented that  she  should  share  the  general 
risk,  than  by  remaining  behind,  leave  it  to 
be  inferred  that  he  himself  augured  a  disas- 
trous conclusion  to  the  expedition. 

The  armament  set  sail  on  the  14th  of 
December  1801,  while  an  English  squadron 
of  observation,  uncertain  of  their  purpose, 
waited  upon  and  watched  their  progress  to 
the  West  Indies.  The  French  fleet  pre- 
sented themselves  before  Cape  Fran9ois, 
on  the  29th  of  January  1802. 

Toussaint,  summoned  to  surrender,  seem- 
ed at  tirst  inclined  to  come  to  an  agreement, 
terrified  probably  by  the  great  force  of  the 
expedition,  which  time  and  the  climate 
could  alone  afford  the  negroes  any  chance 
of  resisting.  A  letter  was  delivered  to  him 
from  the  First  Consul,  expressing  esteem 
for  his  person  ;  and  General  Leclerc  offered 
him  the  most  favourable  terms,  together 
with  the  situation  of  lieutenant-governor. 
Ultimately,  however,  Toussaint  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  trust  the  French,  and 
he  determined  upon  resistance,  which  he 
managed  with  considerable  skill.  Never- 
theless, the  well-concerted  military  opera- 
tions of  the  whites  soon  overpowered  for 
the  present  the  resistance  of  Toussaint  and 
his  followers.  Chief  after  chief  surrender- 
ed, and  submitted  themselves  to  General 
Leclerc.  \t  length,  Toussaint  L'Ouver- 
ture  himself  seems  to  have  despaired  of 
being  able  to  make  further  or  more  effect- 
ual resistance.  He  made  his  formal  sub- 
mission, and  received  and  accepted  Le- 
clerc's  pardon,  under  the  condition  that  he 


mined  to  retain  in  his  own  hands  the  effec-    should  retire  to  a  plantation  at  Gonaives, 


tivc  government  of  the  colony.  But  this  in 
no  respect  consisted  w^th  the  plans  of  Buo- 
naparte, who  was  impatient  to  restorp  to 
France  those  possessions  of  which  the  Brit- 
ish naval  superiority  had  so  long  deprived 
her — colonies,  shipping,  and  commerce. 
A  powerful  expedition  was  fitted  out  at 


and  never  leave  it  without  permission  of 
the  commander-in-chief. 

The  French  had  not  long  had  possession 
of  the  colony,  ere  they  discovered,  or  sup- 
posed they  had  discovered,  symptoms  of  a 
conspiracy  amon(;st  the  negroes,  and  Tous- 
saint was,  on  very  slight  grounds,  accused 


the  harbours  of  Brest,  L'Orient,  and  Roche-  I  as  encouraging  a  revolt.  Under  this  allega- 
fort,  destined  to  restore  St.  Domingo  in  full  j  tion,  the  only  proof  of  which  was  a  letter, 
subjection  to  the  French  empire.  The  '  capable  of  an  innocent  interpretation,  the 
fleet  amounted  to  thirtv-four  ships  bearing  '  unfortunate  chief  was  seized  upon,  with  his 
forty  guns  and  upwards,  with  more  than  '•  whole  family,  and  put  on  board  of  a  vessel 
twenty  frigates  and  smaller  armed  vessels.  !  bound  to  France.  Nothing  official  was 
They  had  on  board  above  twenty  thousand  '  ever  learned  concerning  his  fate,  further 
men,  and  General  Leclerc,  the  brother-in-  '  than  that  he  was  imprisoned  in  the  castle 
law  of  the  First  Consul,  was  named  com-  :  of  Joux,  in  Franche  Comnte,  where  the  un- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  expedition,  having  a  happy  African  fell  a  victim  to  the  severity 
staff  composed  of  officers  of  acknowledged  I  of  an  Alpine  climate,  to  which  he  was  un- 
skill  and  bravery.  '  accustomed,  and  the  privations  of  a  close 

It  is  said  that  Buonaparte  had  the  art  to  1  confinement.  The  deed  has  been  often 
employ  a  considerable  proportion  of  the  '  quoted  and  referred  to  as  one  of  the  worst 
troops  which  composed  the  late  army  of  the  !  .actions  of  Buonaparte,  who  ought,  if  not  in 
Rhine,   in  this  distant  e.xpedition  to  an  in- '  justice,  in  generosity  at  least,  to  have  had 


360 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLIV. 


compassion  on  a  man,  whose  fortunes  bore 
in  many  respects  a  strong  similarity  to  his 
own.  It  afforded  but  too  strong  a  proof, 
that  though  humanity  was  often  in  Napole- 
on's mouth,  and  sometimes  displayed  in  his 
actions,  yet  its  maxims  were  seldom  found 
sufficient  to  protect  those  whom  he  disliked 
or  feared,  from  the  fate  which  tyranny  most 
willingly  assigns  to  its  victims,  that  of  being 
silently  removed  from  the  living  world,  and 
inclosed  in  their  prison  as  in  a  tomb,  from 
which  no  complaints  can  be  heard,  and 
where  they  are  to  wait  the  slow  approach 
of  death,  like  men  who  are  literally  buried 
alive. 

The  perfidy  with  which  the  French  had 
conducted  themselves  towards  Toussaint, 
was  visited  by  early  vengeance.  That 
scourge  of  Europeans,  the  yellow  fever, 
broke  out  among  their  troops,  and  in  an 
incredibly  short  space  of  time  swept  off 
General  Leclerc,  with  many  of  his  best 
officers  and  bravest  soldiers.  The  negroes, 
incensed  at  the  conduct  of  the  governor 
towards  Toussaint,  and  encouraged  by 
the  sickly  condition  of  the  French  army, 
rose  upon  them  in  every  quarter.  A 
species  of  war  ensued,  of  which  we  are 
thankful  it  is  not  our  task  to  trace  the  de- 
plorable and  ghastly  particulars.  The  cru- 
elty which  was  perhaps  to  be  expected  in 
the  savage  Africans,  just  broke  loose  from 
the  bondage  of  slavery,  communicated  it- 
self to  the  civilized  French.  If  the  former 
tore  out  their  prisoners'  eyes  with  cork- 
screws, the  latter  drowned  their  captives 
by  hundreds,  which  imitation  of  Carrier's 
republican  baptism  they  called  "deporta- 
tion into  the  sea."  On  other  occasions, 
numerous  bodies  of  negroes  were  confined 
in  hulks,  and  there  smothered  to  death  with 
the  fames  of  lighted  sulphur.  The  issue 
of  this  hellish  warfare  was,  that  the  cruelty 
of  the  French  enraged  instead  of  terrifying 
their  savage  antagonists  ;  and  at  length,  that 
the  numbers  of  the  former,  diminished  by 
disease  and  constant  skirmishing,  became 
unequal  to  the  defence  even  of  the  garrison- 
towns  of  the  island,  much  more  so  to  the 
task  of  reconquering  it.  General  Rocham- 
beau,  who  succeeded  Leclerc  as  command- 
er-in-chief, was  finally  obliged  to  save  the 
poor  wreck  of  that  fine  army,  by  submitting 
at  discretion  to  an  English  squadron,  1st 
December  1803.  Thus  v/as  the  richest  col- 
ony in  the  West  Indies  finally  lost  to  France. 
Remaining  entirely  in  possession  of  the 
black  population,  St.  Domingo  will  show, 
in  process  of  time,  how  far  the  natives  of 
Africa,  having  European  civilization  within 
their  reach,  are  capable  of  forming  a  state, 
governed  by  the  usual  rules  of  polity. 

While  Buonaparte  made  these  strong  ef- 
forts for  repossessing  France  in  this  fine 
colony,  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he 
was  neglecting  the  establishment  of  his 
own  power  upon  a  more  firm  basis.  His 
present  situation  was — like  every  other  in 
life — considerably  short  of  what  he  could 
have  desired,  though  so  infinitely  superior 
to  all  that  his  most  unreasonable  wishes 
could  at  one  time  have  aspired  to.  He  had 
all  the  leal  power  of  royalty,  and,  since  the 


I  settlement  of  his  authority  for  life,  he  had 
I  daily  assumed  more  of  the  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance with  which  sovereignty  is  us. 
]  ually  invested.  The  Tuilleries  were  once 
more  surrounded  with  guards  without,  and 
filled  by  levees  within-  The  ceremonial 
of  a  court  was  revived,  and  Buonaparte, 
judging  of  mankind  with  accuracy,  neglect- 
ed no  minute  observance  by  which  the 
princes  of  the  earth  are  wont  to  enforce 
their  authority.  Still  there  remained  much 
to  be  done.  He  held  the  sovereignty  only 
in  the  nature  of  a  life-rent.  He  could,  in- 
deed, dispose  of  it  by  will,  but  the  last 
wills  even  of  kings  have  been  frequently 
set  aside;  and,  at  any  rate,  the  privilege 
comes  short  of  that  belonging  to  a  heredita- 
ry crown,  which  descends  by  the  right  of 
blood  from,  one  possessor  to  another,  so 
that  in  one  sense  it  may  be  said  to  confer 
on  the  dynasty  a  species  of  immortality. 
Buonaparte  knew  also  the  virtue  of  names. 
The  title  of  Chief  Consul  did  not  necessa* 
rily  infer  sovereign  rights — it  might  signify 
everything,  or  it  might  signify  nothing — in 
common  language  it  inferred  alike  one  of 
the  annual  executive  governors  of  the  Ro- 
man Republic,  whose  fasces  swayed  the 
world,  or  the  petty  resident  who  presides 
over  commercial  affairs  in  a  foreign  sea- 
port. There  were  no  precise  ideas  of 
power  or  rights  necessarily  and  unalien- 
ably  connected  with  it.  Besides,  Buon- 
aparte had  other  objections  to  his  present 
title  of  dignity.  The  title  of  First  Con- 
sul implied,  that  there  were  two  others, — 
far,  indeed,  from  being  co-ordinate  with 
Napoleon,  but  yet  who  occupied  a  higher 
rank  on  the  steps  of  the  throne,  and  ap- 
proached ifis  person  more  nearly,  than  ho 
could  have  desired.  Again,  the  word  re- 
minded the  hearer,  even  by  the  new  mode 
of  its  application,  that  it  belonged  to  a  gov- 
ernment of  recent  establishment,  and  of 
revolutionary  origin,  and  Napoleon  did  not 
wish  to  present  such  ideas  to  the  public 
mind;  since  that  which  was  but  lately 
erected  might  be  easily  destroyed,  and  that 
v/hich  last  arose  out  of  the  revolutionary 
cauldron,  might,  like  the  phantoms  whicn 
had  preceded  it,  give  place  in  its  turn  to 
an  apparition  more  potent.  Policy  seemed 
to  recommend  to  him,  to  have  recourse  to 
the  ancient  model  which  Europe  had  been 
long  accustomed  to  reverence  ;  to  adopt  the 
form  of  government  best  known  and  longest 
established  through  the  greater  part  of  the 
world ;  and,  assuming  the  title  and  rights  of 
a  monarch,  to  take  his  place  among  the  an- 
cient and  recognized  authorities  of  Europe. 
It  was  necessary  to  proceed  with  the 
utmost  caution  in  this  innovation,  which, 
whenever  accomplished,  must  necessarily 
involve  the  French  people  in  the  notable 
inconsistency,  of  having  murdered  the  de- 
scendant of  their  old  princes,  committed  a 
thousand  crimes,  and  suffered  under  a  mass 
of  misery,  merel3' because  they  were  resolv- 
ed not  to  permit  the  existence  of  that  crown, 
which  was  now  to  be  placed  on  the  head 
of  a  soldier  of  fortune.  Before,  therefore, 
he  could  venture  on  this  bold  measure, 
in  which,  were  it  but  for  very  shame's  sake. 


Chap.  XLIV] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


381 


he  must  be  certain  of  great  opposition,  i  couraged  those  who  had  received  them  to 
Buonaparte  endeavoured,  by  every  means  ;  make  every  effort  to  preserve  the  character 
in  his  power,  to  strengthen  himself  in  his    which  they  had  thus  gained,  while  they  awa- 


government. 


kened  the  emulation  of  hundreds  and  thou- 


The  army  was  carefully  new-modelled,  ,  samds  who  desired  similar  marks  of  distinc- 
80  as  to  make  it  as  much  as  possible  his  |  tion.    Buonaparte  now  formed  the  project  of 


own ;  and  the  French  soldiers,  who  regard 
ed  the  power  of  Buonaparte  as  the  fruit  of 
their  own  victories,  were  in  general  devot- 
ed to  his  cause,  notwithstanding  the  fame 
of  Moreau,  to  whom  a  certain  part  of  their 
number  still  adhered.  The  Consular  Guard, 
a  highly  privileged  body  of  selected  forces, 
■was  augmented  to  the  number  of  six  thou- 
sand men.  These  formidable  legions,  which 
included  troops  of  every  species  of  arms, 
had  been  gradually  formed  and  increased 
upon  the  plan  of  the  corps  of  guides  which 
Buonaparte  introduced  during  the  first  Ital- 
ian campaigns,  for  immediate  attendance 
on  his  person,  and  for  preventing  such  acci- 
dents as  once  or  twice  had  like  to  have  be- 
fallen him,  by  unexpected  encounters  with 
flying  parties  of  the  enemy.  But  the  guards, 
as  now  increased  in  numbers,  had  a  duty 
much  more  extended.  They  were  chosen 
men,  taught  to  consider  themselves  as  su- 
perior to  the  rest  of  the  army,  and  enjoying 
advantages  in  pay  and  privileges.  When 
the  other  troops  were  subject  to  privations, 
care  was  taken  that  the  guards  should  ex- 
perience as  little  of  them  as  possible,  and 
tliat  by  every  possible  exertion  they  should 
be  kept  in  the  highest  degree  of  readiness 
for  action.  They  were  only  employed  upon 
service  of  the  utmost  importance,  and  sel- 
dom in  the  beginning  of  an  engagement, 
when  they  remained  in  reserve  under  the 
eye  of  Napoleon  himself.  It  was  usually 
by  means  of  his  guard  that  the  final  and 
decisive  exertion  was  made  which  marked 
Buonaparte's  tactics,  and  so  often  achieved 
victory  at  the  very  crisis  when  it  seemed 
inclining  to  the  enemy.  Regarding  them- 
selves as  considerably  superior  to  the  other 
loldiers,  and  accustomed  also  to  be  under 
Napoleon's  immediate  command,  his  guards 
were  devotedly  attached  to  him ;  and  a 
body  of  troops  of  such  nigh  character  might 
be  considered  as  a  formidable  bulwark 
around  the  throne  which  he  meditated  as- 
cending. 

The  attachment  of  these  chosen  legions, 
and  of  his  soldiers  in  general,  formed  the 
foundation  of  Buonaparte's  power,  who, 
of  all  sovereigns  that  ever  mounted  to 
authority,  might  be  said  to  reign  by  dint  of 
victory  and  of  his  sword.  But  he  surround- 
ed himself  by  another  species  of  partizaiis. 
The  Legion  of  Honour  was  destined  to 
form  a  distinct  and  particular  class  of  priv- 
ileged individuals,  whom,  by  honours  and 
bounties  bestowed  on  them,  he  resolved 
to  bind  to  his  own  interest. 

This  ir.stitution,  which  attained  consider- 
able political  importance,  originated  i'.i  the 
custom  which  Napoleon  had  earlv  introduc- 
ed, of  conferring  on.  soldiers,  of  whatever 
rank,  a  sword,  fusee,  or  other  military  weap 


embodying  the  persons  who  had  merited 
such  rewards  into  an  association,  similar  in 
many  respects  to  those  orders,  or  brother- 
hoods of  chivalry,  with  which,  during  the 
middle  ages,  the  feudal  sovereigns  of  Eu- 
rope surrounded  themselves,  and  which 
subsist  to  this  day,  though  in  a  changed  and 
modified  form.  These,  however,  have 
been  uniformly  created  on  the  feudal  prin- 
ciples, and  the  honour  they  confer  limited, 
or  supposed  to  be  limited,  to  persons  of 
some  rank  and  condition  ;  but  the  scheme 
of  Buonaparte  was  to  extend  this  species 
of  honourable  distinction  through  all  ranks, 
in  the  quality  proper  to  each,  as  medals  to 
be  distr-buted  among  various  classes  of  the 
community  are  struck  upon  metals  of  dif- 
ferent value,  but  are  all  stamped  with  the 
same  die.  The  outlines  of  the  institution 
were  these  : — 

The  Legion  of  Honour  was  to  consist  of  a 
great  Council  of  Administration  and  fifteen 
Cohorts,  each  of  which  was  to  have  its  own 
separate  head-quarters,  in  some  distinguish- 
ed town  of  the  Republic.  The  Council  of 
.Administration  w;is  to  consist  of  the  three 
Consuls,  and  four  other  members  ;  a  sena- 
tor, namely,  a  member  of  the  Legislative 
Body,  a  member  of  the  Tribunate,  and  one 
of  the  Council  of  State,  each  to  be  chosen 
by  tlie  body  to  which  he  belonged.  The 
order  might  be  acquired  by  distinguished 
merit,  either  of  a  civil  or  a  military  na- 
ture ;  and  various  rules  were  laid  down  for 
the  mode  of  selecting  the  members.  The 
First  Consul  was,  in  right  of  his  office,  Cap- 
tain-General of  tlie  Legion,  and  President 
of  the  Council  of  Administration.  Every 
cohort  was  to  consist  of  seven  grand  offi- 
cers, twenty  commanders,  thirty  subaltern 
officers,  and  three  hundred  and  fifty  legion- 
aries. Their  nomination  was  for  life,  and 
their  appointments  considerable.  The 
grand  officers  enjoyed  a  yearly  pension  of 
oOW)  francs  ;  the  commanders  2500 ;  the  i 
officers  1000  francs  ;  the  privates  or  legion- 
aries, 250.  They  were  to  swear  upon  their 
honour  to  defend  the  government  of  France, 
and  maintain  the  inviolability  of  her  em- 
pire ;  to  combat,  by  ever)'  lawful  means, 
against  the  re-establishment  of  the  feudal 
institutions  ;  and  to  concur  in  maintaining 
the  principles  of  liberty  and  equality. 

Notwithstanding  these  last  words,  con- 
taining, when  properly  understood,  the 
highest  political  and  moral  truth,  but  em- 
ployed in  France  originally  to  cover  the 
most  abominable  cruelties,  and  used  more 
lately  as  mere  words  of  course,  the  friends 
of  liberty  were  not  to  be  blinded,  regard- 
ing the  purpose  of  this  new  institution. 
Their  number  was  now  much  limited  ;  but 
amidst  their  weakness  thev  had  listened  to 


on,  in  the  nameof  the  state,  as  acknowledg-  the  lessons  of  prudence  and  experience, 
ing  and  commemorating  some  act  of  peculiar  and  abandoning  these  high-swollen,  illuso- 
gallantry.  The  influence  of  such  public  re-  '  ry,  and  absurd  pretensions,  which  had  cre- 
wards  wag  of  course  very  great.     They  en-    ated    such   general   disturbance,  seem  to 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.  [Chap.  XLIV. 


have  set  themselves  seriously,  and  at  the 
same  time  moderately  to  work,  to  protect 
the  cause  of  practical  and  useful  freedom, 
by  such  resistance  as  the  constitution  still 
permitted  them  to  offer,  by  means  of  the 
Tribunate  and  the  Legislative  Body. 

Among  the  statesmen  who  associated  to 
form  an  Opposition,  which,  on  the  princi- 
ple of  the  constitutional  Opposition  of  Eng- 
land, were  to  act  towards  the  executive 
government  rather  as  to  an  erring  friend, 
whom  they  desired  to  put  right,  than  as  an 
enemy,  whom  they  meant  to  destroy,  were 
Benjamin  Constant,  early  distinguished  by 
talent  and  eloquence,  Chenier,  author  of 
the  hymn  of  the  Marseilloise,  Savoye-Rol- 
lin,  Chauvelin,  and  others,  among  whose 
names  that  of  Carnot  was  most  distinguish- 
ed. These  statesmen  had  learned  apparent- 
ly, that  it  is  better  in  human  affairs  to  aim 
at  that  minor  degree  of  good  which  is  prac- 
ticatle,  than  to  aspire  to  a  perfection  which 
is  unattainable.  In  the  opinion  of  most  of 
them,  the  government  of  Buonaparte  was 
a  necessary  evil,  without  which,  or  some- 
thing of  the  same  strength,  to  control  the 
factions  by  which  she  was  torn  to  pieces, 
France  must  have  continued  to  be  a  prey 
to  a  succession  of  such  anarchical  govern- 
ments as  had  already  almost  ruined  her. 
They,  therefore,  entertained  none  of  the 
usual  views  of  conspirators.  They  consid- 
ered the  country  as  in  the  condition  of  a 
wounded  warrior,  compelled  for  a  short 
time  to  lay  aside  her  privileges,  as  he  his 
armour  ;  but  they  hoped,  when  France  had 
renewed  her  strength  and  spirit  by  an  inter- 
val of  repose,  they  might  see  her  under  bet- 
ter auspices  than  before,  renew  and  assert 
her  claims  to  be  free  from  military  law. 
Meantime  they  held  it  their  duty,  profess- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  the  highest  respect 
to  the  government  and  its  head  the  First 
Consul,  to  keep  alive  as  far  as  was  permit- 
ted the  spirit  of  the  country,  and  oppose 
the  encroachments  of  its  ruler.  They  were 
not  long  allowed  to  follow  the  practical 
and  useful  path  which  they  had  sketched 
out  5  but  the  French  debates  were  never  so 
decently  or  respectably  conducted  as  dur- 
ing this  period. 

The  Opposition,  as  they  may  be  called, 
had  not  objected  to  the  re-appointment  of 
Buonaparte  to  the  Consulate  for  life.  Prob- 
ably they  were  reluctant  to  have  the  ap- 
pearance of  giving  him  personal  offence, 
were  aware  tliey  would  be  too  feebly  sup- 
ported, and  were  sensible,  that  struggling 
for  a  point  which  could  not  be  attained, 
was  unlikely  to  lead  to  any  good  practical 
results.  The  institution  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour  offered  a  better  chance  to  try  their 
new  opposition  tactics. 

Rcederer,  the  orator,  bv  whom  the  meas- 
ure was  proposed  to  the  Tribunate,  endeav- 
oured to  place  it  in  the  most  favourable 
light.  It  was  founded,  he  said,  upon  the 
eighty-sevenili  article  of  the  Constitution- 
al Declaration,  which  provided  that  nation- 
al recompences  should  be  conferred  on 
those  soldiers  who  had  distinguished  them- 
selves in  their  country's  service.  He  rep- 
resented the  proposed  order  as  a  moral  in- 


stituion,  calculated  to  raise  to  the  highest 
the  patriotism  and  gallantry  of  the  French 
people.  It  was  a  coin,  he  said,  of  a  value 
different  from,  and  tar  more  precious  than 
that  which  was  issued  from  the  treasury — 
a  treasure  of  a  quality  which  could  not  be 
debased,  and  of  a  quantity  which  was  inex- 
haustible, since  the  mine  consisted  in  the 
national  sense  of  honour. 

To  this  specious  argument,  it  was  replied 
by  Roll  in  and  others,  that  the  law  was  of  a 
nature  dangerous  to  public  liberty.  It  was 
an  abuse,  they  said,  of  the  constitutional 
article,  on  which  it  was  alleged  to  be  found- 
ed, since  it  exhausted  at  once,  by  the  cre- 
ation of  a  numerous  corps,  the  stock  of  re- 
wards which  tiie  article  referred  to  held  in 
frugal  reserve,  to  recompense  great  actions 
as  they  should  occur.  If  everything  was 
given  to  remunerate  merits  which  had  been 
already  ascertained,  what  stock,  it  was  ask- 
ed, remained  for  compensating  future  ac- 
tions of  gallantry,  excepting  the  chance  of 
a  tardy  admission  into  the  corps  as  vacan- 
cies should  occur  1  But  especially  it  was 
pleaded,  that  the  establishment  of  a  milita- 
ry body,  distinguished  by  high  privileges 
and  considerable  pay,  yet  distinct  and  differ- 
ing from  all  the  other  national  forces,  was 
a  direct  violation  of  the  sacred  principles 
of  equality.  Some  reprobated  the  inter- 
mixture of  the  civil  officers  of  the  state  in 
a  military  institution.  Others  were  of  opin- 
ion that  the  oath  proposed  to  be  taken  was 
superfluous,  if  not  ridiculous  ;  since,  how 
could  the  members  of  the  Legion  of  Hon- 
our be  more  bound  to  serve  the  state,  or 
watch  over  the  constitution,  than  any  other 
citizens  ;  or,  in  what  manner  was  it  propos- 
ed they  should  exert  themselves  for  that 
purpose  ?  Other  arguments  were  urged, 
but  that  which  all  felt  to  be  the  most  co- 
gent, was  rather  understood  than  even  hint- 
ed at.  This  was  the  immense  additional 
strength  which  the  First  Consul  must  attain 
by  having  at  his  command  the  distribution 
of  the  new  honours,  and  being  thus  enabled 
to  form  a  body  of  satellites  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  himself,  and  carefully  select- 
ed from  the  bravest  and  ablest  within  the 
realm. 

The  institution  of  the  Legion  of  Honour 
was  at  length  carried  in  the  Tribunate,  by  a 
majority  of  fifty-six  voices,  over  thirty-eight, 
and  sanctioned  in  the  Legislative  Body  by 
one  hundred  and  sixty-six  over  an  hundred 
and  ten.  The  strong  divisions  of  the  Oppo- 
sition on  this  trying  question,  showed  high 
spirit  in  those  who  composed  that  party  ; 
but  they  were  placed  in  a  situation  so  insu- 
lated and  separated  from  the  public,  so  ut- 
terly deprived  of  all  constitutional  guaran- 
tees for  the  protection  of  freedom,  that 
their  resistance,  however  honourable  to 
themselves,  was  totally  ineffectual,  and 
without  advantage  to  the  nation. 

Meanwhile  Buonaparte  was  deeply  en- 
gaged in  intrigues  of  a  different  character, 
by  means  of  which  he  hoped  to  place  the 
sovereign  authority  which  he  had  acquired, 
on  a  footing  less  anomalous,  and  more  cor- 
responding with  that  of  the  other  monarchs 
in  Europe,  than  it  was  at  present.    For  this 


Charp.  XL  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


383 


purpose  an  « verture  was  made  by  the  Prus- 
sian minister  Haugwitz,  through  the  medi- 
um of  Monsieur  de  Meyer,  President  of 
the  Regency  of  Warsaw,  proposing  to  the 
Compte  de  Provence  (since  Louis  XVIIL) 
that  he  should  resign  his  rights  to  the  crown 
of  France  to  the  successful  General  who 
occupied  the  throne,  in  which  case  the 
exiled  princes  were  to  be  invested  with  do- 
minions in  Italy,  and  restored  to  a  brilliant 
existence.  The  answer  of  Louis  was  mark- 
ed at  once  by  moderation,  sense,  and  that 
firmness  of  character  which  corresponded 
with  his  illustrious  birth  and  high  preten- 
sions. "  I  do  not  confound  Monsieur  Buo- 
naparte," said  the  exiled  monarch,  •'  withi 
those  who  have  preceded  him  ;  I  esteem 
his  bravery  and  military  talents  ;  I  owe  him 
goodwill  for  many  acts  of  his  government, 
for  the  good  which  is  done  to  my  people  I 
will  always  esteem  done  to  me.  But  he  is 
mistaken'if  he  thinks  that  my  rig'uts  can  be 
made  the  subjects  of  bargain  and  composi- 
tion. The  very  step  he  is  now  adopting 
would  go  to  establish  them,  could  they  be 
otherwise  called  in  question.  I  know  not 
what  may  be  the  design-s  of  God  for  myself 
and  my  family,  but  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the 
duties  imposed  on  me  by  the  rank  in  which 
it  was  his  pleasure  I  should  be  born.  As  a 
Christian,  I  will  fulfil  tliose  duties  to  my 
last  breath.  .\s  a  descendant  of  Saint 
Louis,  I  will  know  by  his  example  how  to 
respect  myself,  even  were  I  in  fetters.  As 
the  successor  of  I'ranois  the  First,  I  will  at 
least  have  it  to  say  with  him, '  We  have  lost 
all  excepting  our  honour  !'  " 

Such  is  the  account  wliicti  has  been  uni- 
formly given  by  the   Princes  of  the  House 
of  Bourbon,  concerning  this  communica- 
tion, which  is  said  to  have  taken  place  on 
the  2()th  February  1003.     Buonaparte  has 
indeed  denied  that  he  was  accessory  to  any 
such  transac'-ion,  and  lias  said  truly  enough, 
that  an  endeavour  to  acquire  an  interest  in  ; 
the  Bourbons'  title   by  compromise,  would  \ 
have  been  an  admission  on  his  part  that  liis  1 
own,  flowing,  as  he  alleged,  from  tlie  peo- 
ple,  was   imperfect,    and   needed    repairs. 
Therefore,  he  denied  having  taken  any  step  I 


which  could,  in  its  consequences,  have  in- 
ferred such  an  admission. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed tliat  such  a  treaty  would  have  been 
published  by  the  Bourbon  family,  unless  it 
had  been  proposed  by  Meyer;  and  it  is 
equally  unlikely  that  either  Haugwitz  or 
Meyer  would  have  ventured  on  such  a  ne- 
gotiation, excepting  at  the  instigation  of 
Buonaparte,  wiho  alone  could  make  good 
the  terms  proposed  on  the  one  side,  or  de- 
rive advantage  from  the  concessions  stipu- 
lated on  the  other.  Secondly,  without 
stopping  to  inquire  how  far  tiie  title  which 
Buonaparte  pretended  to  the  supreme  au- 
thority, was  of  a  character  incapable  of  be- 
ing improved  by  a  cession  of  the  Compte 
de  Provence's  rights  in  his  favour,  it  would 
still  have  continued  an  object  of  great  po- 
litical consequence  to  have  obtained  a  sur- 
render of  the  claims  of  the  House  of  Bour- 
bon, which  were  even  yet  acknowledged  by 
a  very  considerable  party  within  the  king- 
dom. It  was,  therefore,  worth  while  to 
venture  upon  a  negotiation  which  might 
have  had  the  most  important  results,  al- 
though, when  it  proved  fruitless,  we  can 
see  strong  reasons  for  Napoleon  concealing 
and  disowning  Ins  accession  to  a  step, 
which  might  be  construed  as  implying  some 
sense  of  deficiency  of  his  own  title,  and 
some  degree  of  recognition  of  that  of  the 
exiled  Prince. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that,  up  to  this  pe- 
riod, Napoleon  had  manifested  no  particu- 
lar spleen  towards  the  family  of  Bourbon. 
Oq  the  contrary,  he  had  treated  their  fol- 
lowers with  lenity,  and  spoken  with  decen- 
cy of  their  own  claims.  But  the  rejection 
of  the  treaty  with  Monsieur  Buonaparte, 
however  moderately  worded,  has  been  rea- 
sonably supposed  to  have  had  a  deep  effect 
on  his  mind,  and  may  have  been  one  remote 
cause  of  a  tragedy,  for  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  find  an  adequate  one— the  murder, 
namely,  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien.  But,  be- 
fore we  approach  this  melancholy  part  of 
Napoleon's  history,  it  is  proper  to  trace  the 
events  which  succeeded  the  renewal  of  the 
war. 


CHAP.   XLV. 

Mutual  Feelings  of  Naj)oleon  and  the  British  Nation,  on  the  Renewal  of  the  War. — 
First  Hostile  Measures  on  both  sides. — England  lays  an  Embargo  on  French  Vessels 
in  her  Forts — Napoleon  rclaliulcs  hy  detaining  British  Subjects  in  France. — Effects 
of  this  unprecedented  Measure. — Hanover  and  other  Places  occupied  by  the  French. — 
Scheme  of  Invasion  reneired.— Nature  and  extent  of  Napoleon's  Preparations. — De- 
fensive Measures  of  England. —  Reflections. 


Thk  bloody  war  which  succeeded  the  short 
peace  of  Amiens,  originated,  to  use  the 
words  of  the  satirist,  in  high  words,  jeal- 
ousies, and  fears.  Tliere  was  no  special  or 
determinate  cause  of  quarrel,  which  could 
be  removed  by  explanation,  apology,  or 
concession. 

The  English  nation  were  jealous,  and 
from  the  strides  which  Buonaparte  had 
made  towards  universal  power,  not  jealous 
without  reason,  of  the  farther  purposes  o*" 


the  French  ruler,  and  demanded  guarantees 
against  the  encroachments  which  thev  ap- 
prehended ;  and  such  guarantees  he  deem- 
ed it  beueatli  his  dignity  to  grant.  The 
discussion  of  these  adverse  claims  had  been 
unusually  violent  and  intemperate  ;  and  aa 
Buonaparte  conceived  the  English  nation 
to  be  his  personal  enemies,  so  thev,  on  the 
other  hand,  began  to  regard  his  power  as 
totally  incompatible  with  the  peace  of  Eu- 
rope, and   independence  of  Britain.      To 


384 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chop.  XL  V. 


Napoleon,  the  English  people,  tradesmen 
and  shopkeepers  as  he  chose  to  qualify 
them,  seemed  assuming  a  consequence  in 
Europe,  which  was,  he  conceived,  far  be- 
yond their  due.  He  was  affected  by  feel- 
ings similar  to  those  with  which  Haman 
beheld  Mordecai  sitting  at  the  King's  gate  ; 
— all  things  availing  liim  nothini,',  while 
Britain  held  such  a  high  rank  among  the 
nations,  without  deigning  to  do  him  rever- 
ence or  worship.  The  English  people,  on 
the  other  hand,  regarded  him  as  the  haughty 
and  proud  oppressor  who  had  the  will  at 
least,  if  not  the  power,  to  root  Britain  out 
from  among  the  nations,  and  reduce  them 
to  a  state  of  ignominy  and  bondage. 

When,  therefore,  the  two  nations  again 
arose  to  the  contest,  it  wa^  like  combatants 
whose  anger  against  each  other  has  been 
previously  raised  to  the  highest  pitch  by 
mutual  invective.  Each  had  recourse  to 
the  measures  by  which  their  enemy  could 
be  most  prejudiced. 

England  had  at  her  command  the  large 
means  of  annoyance  arising  out  of  her  im- 
mense naval  superiority,  and  took  her  meas- 
ures with  the  decision  which  the  emergen- 
cy required.  Instant  orders  were  despatch- 
ed to  prevent  the  cession  of  such  colonies 
as  yet  remained  to  be  given  up,  according 
to  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  and  to  seize  by  a 
coup-de-main  such  of  the  French  settle- 
ments as  had  been  ceded,  or  were  yet  oc- 
cupied by  her.  France,  on  the  other  hand, 
in  consequence  of  her  equally  great  superi- 
ority by  land,  assembled  upon  her  extensive 
line  of  sea-coast  a  very  numerous  array, 
with  which  she  appeared  disposed  to  make 
good  her  ruler's  threats  of  invasion.  At  the 
siame  time,  Buonaparte  occupied  without 
ceremony  the  territory  of  Naples,  Holland, 
nnd  such  other  states  as  Britain  must  have 
seen  in  his  hands  with  feelings  of  keen  ap- 
prehension, and  thus  made  good  the  pre- 
vious menaces  of  Talleyrand  in  his  celebra- 
ted Note. 

But  besides  carrying  to  the  utmost  extent 
nil  the  means  of  annoyance  which  the  ordi- 
nary rules  of  hostility  afford,  Napoleon,  go- 
ing beyond  these,  had  recourse  to  strange 
and  unaccustomed  reprisals,  unknown  as 
yet  to  the  code  of  civilized  nature,  and  tend- 
ing only  to  gratify  his  own  resentment,  and 
extend  the  evils  of  war,  already  sufficiently 
numerous. 

The  English  had,  as  is  the  universal  cus- 
tom, laid  an  embargo  on  all  French  vessels 
in  their  ports,  at  the  instant  the  war  was 
proclaimed,  and  the  loss  to  France  was  of 
course  considerable.  Buonaparte  took  a 
singular  mode  of  retaliating,  by  seizing  on 
the  persons  of  the  English  of  every  descrip- 
tion, who  chanced  to  be  at  Paris,  or  travel- 
ling in  the  dominions  of  France,  who,  trust- 
ing to  the  laws  of  good  faith  hitherto  ob- 
served by  all  civilized  nations,  e.tpected 
nothing  less  than  an  attack  upon  their  per- 
sonal freedom.  The  absurd  excuse  at  first 
set  up  for  this  extraordinary  violation  of  hu- 
manity, at  once,  and  of  justice,  was,  that 
some  of  these  individuals  might  be  liable  to 
•erve  in  the  English  militia,  and  were  there- 
fore to  be  considered  as  prisoners  of  war. 


But  this  flimsy  pretext  could  not  have  ex- 
cused the  seizing  on  the  English  of  all 
ranks,  conditions,  and  ages.  The  measure 
was  adopted  without  the  participation  of 
the  First  Consul's  ministers;  at  least  we 
must  presume  so,  since  Talleyrand  himself 
encouraged  some  individuals  to  remain 
after  the  British  ambassador  had  left  Paris, 
with  an  assurance  of  safety  which  he  had  it 
not  in  his  power  to  make  good.  It  was  the 
vengeful  start  of  a  haughty  temper,  render- 
ed irritable,  as  we  have  often  stated,  by 
uninterrupted  prosperity,  and  resenting,  of 
consequence,  resistance  and  contradiction, 
with  an  acuteuess  of  feeling  approaching 
to  frenzy. 

The  individuals  who  suffered  under  this 
capricious  and  tyrannical  act  of  arbitrary 
power,  were  treated  in  all  respects  like 
prisoners  of  war,  and  confined  to  prison  as 
such,  unless  they  gave  their  parole  to  abide 
in  certain  towns  assigned  them,  and  keep 
within  particular  limits. 

The  mass  of  individual  evil  occasioned  by 
this  cruel  measure  was  incalculably  great 
Twelve  years,  a  large  proportion  of  human 
life,  were  cut  from  that  of  each  of  these 
Detenus,  as  they  were  called,  so  far  as 
regarded  settled  plan,  or  active  exertion. 
Upon  many,  the  interruption  fell  with  fatal 
influence,  blighting  all  their  hopes  and  pros- 
pects ;  others  learned  to  live  only  for  the 
passing  day,  and  were  thus  deterred  from 
habitual  study  or  useful  industry.  The  most 
tender  bonds  of  affection  were  broken 
asunder  by  this  despotic  sentence  of  im- 
prisonment ;  the  most  fatal  inroads  wert; 
made  on  family  feelings  and  affections  by 
this  long  separation  between  children,  and 
husbands,  and  wives — all  the  nearest  and 
dearest  domestic  relations.  In  short,  if  it 
was  Buonaparte's  desire  to  inflict  the  high- 
est degree  of  pain  on  a  certain  number  of 
persons,  only  because  they  were  born  in 
Britain,  he  certainly  attained  his  end.  If 
he  hoped  to  gain  anything  farther,  he  wa« 
completely  baffled ;  and  when  he  hypo- 
critically imputes  the  sufferings  of  the  /)•• 
tentis  to  the  obstinacy  of  the  English  min- 
istry, his  reasoning  is  the  same  with  that  of 
a  captain  of  Italian  banditti,  who  murders 
his  prisoner,  and  throws  the  blame  of  the 
crime  on  the  friends  of  the  deceased,  who 
failed  to  send  the  ransom  at  which  he  had 
rated  his  life.  Neither  is  his  vindication 
more  reasonable,  when  he  pretends  to  say 
that  the  measure  was  taken  in  order  to  pre- 
vent England,  on  future  occasions,  from 
seizing,  according  to  ancient  usage,  on  the 
shipping  in  her  ports.  This  outrage  must 
therefore  be  recorded  as  one  of  those  acts 
of  wanton  wilfulness  in  which  Buonaparte 
indulged  his  passion,  at  the  .expense  of  his 
honour,  and,  if  rightly  understood,  of  his 
real  interest. 

The  detention  of  civilians,  unoffending 
and  defenceless,  was  a  breach  of  those 
courtesies  which  ought  to  be  sacred,  as 
mitigating  the  horrors  of  war.  The  occu- 
pation of  Hanover  was  made  in  violation  of 
the  Germanic  Constitution.  This  patrimo- 
ny of  our  kings  had  in  former  wars  been 
admitted  to  the  benefit  of  neutrality  ;  a  rea- 


Chap.  XL  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


.S8r, 


80nable  distinction  being  taken  betwixt  the 
Elector  of  Hanover,  as  one  of  the  grand 
feudatories  of  the  Empire,  and  the  same 
person  in  his  character  of  King  of  Great 
Britain  ;  in  which  latter  crpacity  only  he 
wais  at  war  with  France.  But  Buonaparte 
was  not  disposed  to  recognize  these  meta- 
physical distinctions  ;  nor  were  any  of  the 
powers  of  Germany  in  a  condition  to  incur 
nis  displeasure,  by  asserting  the  constitu- 
tion and  immunities  of  the  empire.  Austria 
had  paid  too  deep  a  price  for  her  former 
attempts  to  withstand  the  power  of  France, 
to  permit  her  to  e.xtend  her  opposition  be- 
yond a  feeble  remonstrance  ;  and  Prussia 
had  too  long  pursued  a  temporizing  and 
truckling  line  of  politics,  to  allow  her  to 
break  short  with  Napoleon,  by  endeavour- 
ing to  merit  the  title  her  monarch  once 
claimed, — of  Protector  of  the  North  of 
Germany. 

Everything  in  Germany  being  thus  favour- 
able to  the  views  of  France,  Mortier,  who 
had  already  assembled  an  army  in  Holland, 
and  on  the  frontiers  of  Germany,  moved  for- 
ward on  Hanover.  A  considerable  force 
was  collected  for  resistance,  under  his  F».oy- 
al  Highness  the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  and 
General  Walmoden.  It  soon  appeared, 
however,  that,  left  to  their  own  resources, 
and  absolutely  unsupported  either  by  Eng- 
land or  the  forces  of  the  Empire,  the  Elect- 
orate was  incapable  of  resistance  5  and  that 
any  attempt  at  an  ineffectual  defence  would 
only  serve  to  aggravate  the  distresses  of  the 
country,  by  subjecting  the  inhabitants  to 
the  extremities  of  war.  In  compassion, 
therefore,  to  the  Hanoverians,  the  Duke  of 
Cambridge  was  induced  to  leave  the  hered- 
itary dominions  of  his  father's  house  ;  and 
General  Walmoden  had  the  mortification  to 
find  himself  obliged  to  enter  into  a  conven- 
tion, by  which  the  capital  of  the  Elector- 
ate, and  all  its  strong-holds,  were  to  be  de- 
livered up  to  the  French,  and  the  Hanove- 
rian army  were  to  retire  behind  the  Elbe, 
on  condition  not  to  serve  against  France 
and  her  allies  till  previously  exchanged. 

The  British  government  having  refused 
to  ratify  this  convention  of  Suhlingen,  as 
it  was  termed,  the  Hanoverian  army  were 
summoned  to  surrender  as  prisoners  of 
war; — hard  terms,  which,  upon  the  deter- 
mined resistance  of  Walmoden,  were  only 
thus  far  softened,  that  these  tried  and  faith- 
ful troops  were  to  be  disbanded,  and  deliv- 
er up  their  arms,  artillery,  horses,  and  mili- 
tary stores.  In  a  letter  to  the  First  Consul, 
Mortier  declares  that  he  granted  these  miti- 
gated terms  from  respect  to  the  misfortunes 
of  a  brave  enemy  ;  and  mentions,  in  a  tone 
of  creditable  feeling,  the  distress  of  Gen- 
eral Walmoden,  and  the  despair  of  the  fine 
regiment  of  Hanoverian  guards,  when  dis- 
mounting from  their  horses  to  surrender 
them  up  to  the  French. 

At  the  same  time  that  they  occupied 
Hanover,  the  French  failed  not  to  make  a 
further  use  of  their  invasion  of  Germany, 
by  laying  forced  loans  on  the  Hanseatic 
towns,  and  other  encroachments. 

The  Prince  Royal  of  Denmark  was  the 
only  sovereign  who  showed  an  honourable 
Vol.  I.  R 


sense  of  these  outrages,  by  assembling  in 
Holstein  an  army  of  thirty  thousand  men  ; 
but  being  unsupported  by  any  other  pow- 
er, he  was  soon  glad  to  lay  aside  the  atti- 
tude which  he  had  assumed.  Austria  ac- 
cepted, as  current  payment,  the  declara- 
tion of  France,  that  by  her  occupation  of 
Hanover  she  did  not  intend  any  act  of  con- 
quest, or  annexation  of  territory,  but  mere- 
ly proposed  to  retain  the  Electorate  as  a 
pledge  for  the  isle  of  Malta,  which  the 
English,  contrary,  as  was  alleged,  to  the 
faith  of  treaties,  refused  to  surrender. 
Prussia  naturally  dissatisfied  at  seeing  the 
aggressions  of  France  extend  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  her  own  territories,  was  nev- 
ertheless obliged  to  rest  contented  with  the 
same  e-xcuse. 

The  French  ruler  did  not  confine  him- 
self to  the  occupation  of  Hanover.  Taren- 
tum,  and  other  sea-ports  of  the  King  of 
Naples's  dominions,  were  seized  upon,  un- 
der the  same  pretext  of  their  being  a  pledge 
for  the  restoration  of  Malta.  In  fact,  by 
thus  quartering  his  troops  upon  neutral  ter- 
ritories, by  whom  he  took  care  that  they 
should  l3e  paid  and  clothed,  Napoleon  made 
the  war  support  itself,  and  spared  France 
the  burthen  of  maintaining  a  great  propor- 
tion of  his  immense  army;  while  large  ex- 
actions, not  only  on  the  commercial  towns, 
but  on  .Spain,  Portugal,  and  Naples,  and  oth- 
er neutral  countries,  in  the  name  of  loans, 
filled  his  treasury,  and  enabled  him  to  car- 
ry on  the  expensive  plans  which  he  medi- 
tated. 

Any  one  of  the  separate  manosuvres  which 
we  have  mentioned,  would,  before  this 
eventful  war,  have  been  considered  as  a 
sufficient  object  for  a  long  campaign.  But 
the  whole  united  was  regarded  by  Buona- 
parte only  as  side-blows,  affecting  Britain 
indirectly  through  the  occupation  of  her 
monarch's  family  dominions,  the  embar- 
rassment offered  to  her  commerce,  and  the 
destruction  of  such  independence  as  had 
been  left  to  the  continental  powers.  His 
great  and  decisive  game  remained  to  he 
played — that  scheme  of  invasion  to  '.vhich 
he  had  so  strongly  pledged  himself  in  his 
angry  dialogue  with  Lord  Whitworth. — 
Here,  perhaps,  if  ever  in  his  life,  Buona 
parte,  from  considerations  of  prudence, 
suffered  the  period  to  elapse  which  would 
have  afforded  the  best  chance  for  execution 
of  his  venturous  project. 

It  must  be  in  the  memory  of  most  who 
recollect  the  period,  that  the  kingdom  of 
Great  Britain  w>»s  seldom  less  provided 
against  invasion  than  at  the  commencement 
of  this  second  war  ;  and  that  an  embarka- 
tion from  the  ports  of  Holland,  if  undertak- 
en instantly  after  the  %var  had  broken  out, 
might  have  escaped  our  blockading  squad- 
rons, and  have  at  least  shown  what  a  Frencii 
army  could  have  done  on  British  ground, 
at  a  moment  when  the  al:inn  wus  general, 
and  the  country  in  an  unprepared  state. 
But  it  is  probable  that  Buonapa-te  himself 
was  as  much  unprovided  as  England  for  tho 
sudden  breach  of  the  treaty  of  .\miens,  an 
event  brought  about  more  by  the  influence 
of  passion  than  of  policy  ;  so  that  its  con- 


386 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XL  V. 


sequences  were  as  unexpected  in  liis  calcu- 
lations as  in  those  of  Great  Britain.  Be- 
sides, he  had  not  diminished  to  himself  the 
dangers  of  the  undertaking,  by  which  he 
must  have  staked  his  military  renown,  his 
power,  wliich  he  held  chiefly  as  the  conse- 
quence of  his  reputation,  perhaps  his  life, 
upon  a  desperate  game,  which  though  he 
had  already  twice  contemplated  it,  he  had 
not  yet  found  hardihood  enough  seriously 
to  enter  upon. 

He  now,  however,  at  length  bent  himself, 
with  the  whole  strength  of  his  mind,  and 
the  whole  force  of  his  empire,  to  prepare 
for  this  final  and  decisive  undertaking.  The 
gun-boats  in  the  Bay  of  Gibralter,  where 
calms  are  frequent,  had  sometimes  in  the 
course  of  the  former  war  been  able  to  do 
considerable  damage  to  the  English  ves- 
sels of  war,  when  they  could  not  use  their 
sails.  Such  small  craft,  therefore,  was 
supposed  the  proper  force  for  covering  the 
intended  descent.  They  were  built  in 
different  harbours,  and  brought  together  by 
Tawling  along  the  French  shore,  and  keep- 
ing nncref  the  protection  of  the  batteries, 
which  were  now  established  on  every  cape, 
almost  as  if  the  sea-coast  of  the  Channel 
on  the  French  side  had  been  the  lines  of  a 
besieged  city,  no  one  point  of  which  could 
with  prudence  be  left  undefended  by  can- 
non. Boulogne  was  pitched  upon  as  the 
centre  port,  from  which  the  expedition  was 
to  sail.  By  incredible  exertions,  Buona- 
parte had  rendered  its  harbour  and  roads 
capable  of  containing  two  thousand  vessels 
of  various  descriptions.  The  smaller  sea- 
ports of  Vimereux,  Ambleteuse,  and  Eta- 
ples,  Dieppe,  Havre,  St.  Valeri,  Caen, 
Gravelines,  and  Dunkirk,  were  likewise  fill- 
ed with  shipping.  Flushing  and  Ostend 
were  occupied  by  a  separate  flotilla.  Brest, 
Toulon,  and  Rochefort,  were  each  the  sta- 
tion of  as  strong  a  naval  squadron  as  France 
had  still  the  means  to  send  to  sea. 

A  land  army  was  assembled  of  the  most 
formidable  description,  whether  we  regard 
the  high  military  character  of  the  troops, 
the  extent  and  perfection  of  their  oppoint- 
ments,  or  their  numerical  strength.  The 
coast,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Seine  to  that 
of  the  Texel,  was  covered  with  forces; 
and  Soult,  Ney,  Davoust,  and  Victor,  names 
that  were  then  the  pride  and  the  dread  of 
war,  were  appointed  to  command  the  Ar- 
my of  England,  (for  that  menacing  title 
was  once  more  assumed,)  and  execute  those 
manoeuvres,  planned  and  superintended  by 
Buonaparte,  the  issue  of  which  was  to  be 
the  blotting  out  of  Britain  from  the  rank  of 
independent  nations. 

Far  from  being  alarmed  at  this  formida- 
ble demonstration  of  force,  England  pre- 
pared for  her  resistance  with  an  energy  he- 
coming  her  ancient  rank  in  Europe,  and  far 
surpassing  in  its  efforts  any  extent  of  mili- 
tary preparation  before  heard  of  in  her  his- 
tory. To  nearly  one  hundred  tho\isaiul 
troops  of  the  line,  were  added  eighty  thou- 
sand and  upwards  of  militia,  which  scarce 
yielded  to  the  regulars  in  point  of  disci- 
pline. The  volunteer  force,  by  which  eve- 
vg    citizen  was   permitted  and  invited  to 


add  his  efforts  to  the  defence  of  the  coun 
try,  was  far  more  numerous  than  during  the 
last  war,  was  better  officered  also,  and  ren- 
dered every  way  more  effective.  It  waa 
computed  to  amount  to  three  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  men,  who,  if  we  regard  the 
shortness  of  the  time  and  the  nature  of  the 
service,  had  attained  considerable  practice 
in  the  use  and  management  of  their  arme. 
Other  classes  of  men  were  embodied,  and 
destined  to  act  as  pioneers,  drivers  of  wag- 
ons, and  in  the  like  services.  On  a  sud- 
den, the  land  seemed  converted  to  an  im- 
mense camp,  the  whole  nation  into  soldiers, 
and  the  good  old  King  himself  into  a  Gen- 
eral-in-Chief. All  peaceful  considerations 
appeared  for  a  time  to  be  thrown  aside  j 
and  the  voice,  calling  the  nation  to  defend 
their  dearest  rights,  sounded  not  only  in 
Parliament,  and  in  meetings  convoked  to 
second  the  measures  of  defence,  but  was 
heard  in  the  places  of  public  amusement, 
and  mingled  even  with  the  voice  of  devo- 
tion— not  unbecominglysurely,  since  tode- 
fend  our  country  is  to  defend  our  religion. 

Beacons  were  erected  in  conspicuous 
points,  corresponding  with  each  other,  all 
around  and  all  through  the  island,  and  morn- 
ing and  evening,  one  might  have  said,  every 
eye  was  turned  towards  them  to  watch  for 
the  fatal  and  momentous  signal.  Partial 
alarms  were  given  in  different  places,  from 
the  mistakes  to  which  such  arrangements 
must  necessarily  be  liable  ;  and  the  ready 
spirit  which  animated  every  s])ecies  of  troops 
where  such  signals  called  to  arms,  was  of  the 
most  satisfactorydescriptionand  afforded  the 
most  perfect  assurance,  that  the  heart  of 
every  man  was  in  the  cause  of  his  country. 
Amidst  her  preparations  by  land,  England 
did  not  neglect  or  relax  her  precautions  on 
the  element  she  calls  her  own.  She  cover- 
ed the  ocean  with  five  hundred  and  seven- 
ty ships  of  war  of  various  descriptions.  Di- 
visions of  her  fleet  blocked  up  every  French 
port  in  the  Channel ;  and  the  army  destined 
to  invade  our  shores,  might  see  the  British 
flag  flying  in  every  direction  on  the  horizon, 
waiting  for  their  issuing  from  the  harbour,  as 
birds  of  prey  may  be  seen  floating  in  the 
air  above  the  animal  which  they  design  to 
pounce  upon.  Sometimes  the  British  frig- 
ates and  sloops  of  war  stood  in,  and  can- 
nonaded or  threw  shells  into  Havre,  Dieppe, 
Granville,  and  Boulogne  itself.  Sometimes 
the  seamen  and  marines  landed,  cut  out 
vessels,  destroyed  signal-posts,  and  disman- 
tled batteries.  Such  events  were  trifling, 
and  it  was  to  be  regretted  that  they  cost 
the  lives  of  gallant  men  ;  but  although 
they  produced  no  direct  results  of  conse- 
quence, yet  they  had  their  use  in  encour- 
aging the  spirits  of  our  sailors,  and  damping 
the  coiitidnnce  of  the  enemy,  who  must 
at  length  have  looked  forward  with  more 
doubt  than  hope  to  the  invasion  of  the 
English  coast,  when  the  utmost  vigilance 
could  not  prevent  their  experiencing  insults 
upon  their  own. 

During  this  period  of  menaced  attack 
and  arranged  defence,  Buonaparte  visited 
Boulogne,  and  seemed  active  in  preparing 
his  soldiers  for  the  grand  effort.    He  re- 


Chap.  XL  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


387 


viewed  them  in  an  unusual  manner,  teach- 
ing them  to  execute  several  manoeuvres  by 
night;  and  experiments  were  also  made 
upon  the  best  mode  of  arranging  the  sol- 
diers in  the  li^l-bottomed  boats,  and  of  em- 
barking and  disembarking  them  with  celer- 
ity. Omens  were  resorted  to  for  keeping 
up  the  enthusiasm  which  the  presence  of 
the  First  Consul  naturally  inspired.  A 
Roman  battle-a.ve  was  said  to  be  found 
wlien  they  removed  the  earth  to  pitch 
Buonaparte's  tent  or  barrack  ;  and  medals 
of  William  the  Conqueror  were  produced, 
as  having  been  dug  up  upon  the  same  hon- 
oured spot.  These  were  pleasant  bodings, 
yet  perhaps  did  not  altogether,  in  the  minds 
of  the  soldiers,  counterbalance  the  sense 
of  insecurity  impressed  on  them  by  the 
prospect  of  being  packed  together  in  these 
miserable  chaloupes,  and  exposed  to  the 
fire  of  an  enemy  so  superior  at  sea,  that 
during  the  Chief  Consul's  review  of  the 
fortifications,  their  frigates  stood  in  shore 
with  composure,  and  fired  at  him  and  his 
suite  as  at  a  mark.  The  men  who  had 
j  braved  the  perils  of  the  Alps  and  of  the 
Egyptian  deserts,  might  yet  be  allowed  to 
feel  alarm  at  a  species  of  danger  which 
I  eeemed  so  inevitable,  and  which  they  had 
1  no  adequate  means  of  repelling  by  force  of 
j  arms. 

,      .A  circumstance  which  seemed  to  render 
the  expedition  in  a  great  measure  hopeless, 
1  was  the  ease  with  which  the  English  could 
i  maintain  a  constant  watch  upon  their  oper- 
'  ations  within  the  port  of  Boulogne.     The 
least  appearance  of  stir  or  preparation,  to 
;  embark  troops,  or  get  ready  for  sea,  was 
promptly  sent  by  signal  to  the  English  coast, 
and  the  numerous  British  cruisers  were  in- 
i  stantly  on  the  alert  to  attend  their  motions. 
Nelson  had,  in  fact,  during  the  last  war, 
declared  the  sailing  of  a  hostile  armament 
I  from  Boulogne   to  be  a  most  forlorn  un- 
I  dertaking,  on   account  of  cross  tides  and 
other  disadvantages,  together  with  the  cer- 
I  tainty  of  the  flotilla  being  lost  if  there  were 
}  the  least  wind  west-north-west.     "  As  for 
I  rowing,"  he  adds,  "that  is   impossible. — 
'  It  is  perfectly  right  to  be   prepared  for  a 
imad  government,"  continued  this  incontes- 
tible  judge  of  maritime  possibilities;  "  but 
with  the  active  force  whicli  has  been  giv- 
i«n  me,  I  may  pronounce  it  almost  imprac- 
ticable." 

Buonaparte  himself  continued  to  the  last 
to  affirm  that  he  was  serious  in  his  attempts 
to  invade  Great  Britain,  and  that  the  scheme 
was  very  practicable.  He  did  not,  however, 
latterly,  talk  of  forcing  his  way  by  means 
of  armed  small  craft  and  gun-boats,  while 
I  the  naval  forces  on  each  side  were  in  their 
jpresent  degree  of  comparative  strength,  the 
iallowed  risk  of  miscarriage  being  as  ten  to 
one  to  that  of  success  ; — this'  bravado, 
which  he  had  uttered  to  Lord  Whitworth, 
involved  too  much  uncertainty  to  be  really 
acted  upon.  At  times,  long  after,  he  talked 
slightingly  to  his  attendants  of  the  causes 
which  prevented  his  accomplishing  his  pro- 
ject of  invasion  ;*  but  when  speaking  seri- 


•  Si  de  Itgtrs  derangtmens  o'avaient  mis  obsto 


ously  and  in  detail,  he  shows  plainly  that  his 
sole  hope  of  effecting  the  invasion  was,  by 
assembling  such  a  fleet  as  should  give  him 
the  temporary  command  of  the  Channel. 
This  fleet  was  to  consist  of  fifty  vessels, 
which,  despatched  from  the  various  ports 
of  France  and  Spain,  were  to  rendezvous 
atMartinico,  and,  returning  from  thence  to 
the  British  Channel,  protect  the  flotilla, 
upon  which  were  to  embark  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  men.*  Napoleon  was 
disappointed  in  his  combinations  respecting 
the  shipping ;  for,  as  it  happened.  Lord 
Cornwallis  lay  before  Brest  j  Pellew  ob- 
served the  harbours  of  Spain ;  Nelson 
watched  Toulon  and  Genoa;  and  it  would 
have  been  necessary  for  the  French  and 
Spanish  navy  to  fight  their  way  through 
these  impediments,  in  order  to  form  a  union 
at  Martinico. 

It  is  wonderful  to  observe  how  incapable^ 
the  best  understandings  become  of  forming" 
a  rational  judgment,  where  their  vanity  anil 
self-interest  are  concerned,  in  slurring  over 
the  total  failure  of  a  favourite  scheme. 
While  talking  of  the  miscarriage  of  this 
plan  of  invasion,  Napoleon  gravely  exclaim- 
ed to  Las  Casas,  "  And  yet  the  obstacles 
which  made  me  fail  were  not  of  human  ori- 
gin— tliey  were  the  work  of  the  elements. 
In  the  south  the  sea  undid  my  plans  ;  in 
the  north,  it  was  the  conflagration  of  Mos- 
cow, the  snows  and  ice  that  destroyed  me. 
Thus,  water,  air,  fire,  all  nature  in  short 
have  been  the  enemies  of  an  universal  re 
generation,  commanded  by  Nature  herself 
The  problems  of  Providence  are  inscruta- 
ble."t 

Independent  of  the  presumptuouf^ness  ol" 
expressions,  by  which  an  individual  being, 
of  the  first-rate  talents  doubtless,  but  yet 
born  of  a  woman,  seems  to  raise  himself 
above  the  rest  of  his  species,  and  deem 
himself  unconquerable  save  by  the  ele- 
mental resistance,  the  inaccuracy  of  the  rea- 
soning is  worth  remarking.  Was  it  the  sea 
which  prevented  his  crossing  to  England, 
or  was  it  the  English  ships  and  sailors"?  He 
might  as  well  have  affirmed  that  the  hJll  of 
Mount  St.  John,  and  the  wood  of  Soignies, 
and  not  the  army  of  Wellington,  v/crc  the 
obstacles  which  prevented  him  from  march- 
ing to  Brussels. 

'  Before  quitting  the  subject,  we  may  no- 
tice, that  Buonaparte  seems  not  to  have 
entertained  the  least  doubts  of  success, 
could  he  have  succeeded  m  disembarking 
his  army.  A  single  general  action  was  to 
decide  the  fate  of  England.  Five  days 
were  to  bring  Napoleon  to  London,  where 
he  was  to  perform  the  part  of  William  the 
Third  ;  but  with  more  generosity  and  disin- 
terestedness. He  was  to  call  a  meeting  of 
the  inhabitants,  restore  them  what  he  cliIU 
their  rights,  and  destroy  the  oiig.archica! 
faction.  A  few  months  would  not,  accord- 
ing to  his  account,  have  elapsed,  ere  the 

cle  k  man  enterprise  fie  B<Hili>gnc,  (\\ie  poovoit  (Stra 
I'Angletcrre  aujourd'hui  7— Las  Casks,  tomo  II 
3nie  panic,  p.  \Xib. 

*  Momoires  ecrits  k  Sainl  FielcBe,  soui)  la  ilictn* 
de  I'Empereur,  tomo  11.  p.  2-77. 

t  Las  Cases,  tomo  I.  purtio  2A;,  p,  278, 


:;SS 


LIFE  OF  KVPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XL  VI. 


two  nations,  late  such  determined  enemies, 
^vould  liuve  been  identified  by  ilieir  princi- 
ples, their  maxims,  their  interests.  The 
full  explanation  of  this  gibberish,  (for  it  can 
be  ternied  no  better,  even  proceeding  from 
the  lips  of  Napoleon,)  is  to  be  found  else- 
where, when  he  spoke  a  language  more 
genuine  than  that  of  the  Moniteur  and  the 
bulletins.  "  England,"  he  said,  "  must 
have  ended,  by  becoming  an  appendage  to 
the  France  of  my  system.  Nature  has  made 
it  one  of  our  islands,  as  well  as  Oleron  and 
Corsica."* 

It  is  impossible  not  to  pursue  the  train  of 
reflections  which  Buonaparte  continued  to 
pour  forth  to  the  companion  of  his  exile,  on 
the  rock  of  St.  Helena.  When  England 
was  conquered,  and  identified  with  France 
in  maxims  and  principles,  according  to  one 
form  of  expression,  or  rendered  an  append- 
age and  dependency,  according  to  another 
l)lirase,  the  reader  may  suppose  that  Buon- 
aparte would  have  considered  his  mission 
:is  accomplished.  Alas  !  it  was  not  much 
more  than  commenced.  "  I  would  have 
departed  from  thence  [from  subjugated 
Britain]  to  carry  the  work  of  European  re- 
generation [that  is,  the  extension  of  his 
own  arbitrary  authority]  from  south  to 
north,  under  the  Republican  colours,  for  I 
was  then  Chief  Consul,  in  the  same  man- 
ner which  I  was  more  lately  on  the  point 
of  achieving  it  under  the  monarchical 
tbrms.'"t  When  we  find  such  ideas  retain- 
ing hold  of  Napoleon's  imagination,  and 
arising  to  his  tongue  after  his  irretrievable 
fall,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  exclaiming, 
Did  ambition  ever  conceive  «x.  ..uU  a 
dream,  and  had  so  wild  a  vision  ever  a  ter- 
oination  so  disastrous  and  humiliating  I 


'  Las  Cases,  tome  II.  partie  3me,  p.  335. 
I*^idem,  tome  II.  partie  2de,  p.  278. 


It  may  be  expected  that  something  should 
be  lieresaid,  upon  the  chances  which  Brit- 
ain would  liave  had  of  defending  herself  suc- 
cessfully against  the  army  of  invaders.  We 
are  willing  to  acknowledge  that  the  risk 
must  have  been  dreadful ;  and  that  Buona- 
parte, with  his  genius  and  his  army,  must 
have  inflicted  severe  calamities  upon  a 
country  which  had  so  long  enjoyed  the 
blessings  of  peace.  But  the  people  were 
unanimous  in  their  purpose  of  defence,  and 
their  forces  composed  of  materials  to  which 
Buonaparte  did  more  justice  when  he  came 
to  be  better  acquainted  with  them.  Of  the 
three  British  nations,  the  English  have 
since  shown  themselves  possessed  of  the 
same  steady  valour  which  won  the  fields  of 
Cressy  and  Agincourt,  Blenheim  and  Min- 
den — the  Irish  have  not  lost  the  fiery  en- 
thusiasm which  has  distinguished  them  in 
all  the  countries  of  Europe — nor  have  the 
Scots  degenerated  from  the  stubborn  cour- 
age with  which  their  ancestors  for  two 
thousand  years  maintained  their  indepen- 
dence against  a  superior  enemy.  Even  if 
London  had  been  lost,  we  would  not,  under 
so  great  a  calamity,  have  despaired  of  the 
freedom  of  the  country  ;  for  the  war  would 
in  all  probability  have  assumed  that  popu- 
lar and  national  character  which  sooner  or 
later  wears  out  an  invading  army.  Neither 
does  the  confidence  with  which  Buonaparte 
affirms  the  conviction  of  his  winning  the 
first  battle,  appear  so  certainly  well-found- 
ed. This  at  least  we  know,  that  the  reso- 
lution of  the  country  was  fully  bent  up  to 
the  hazard ;  and  those  who  remember  the 
period  will  bear  us  wi»9'?«e,  that  the  desire 
that  the  ITrencn  would  make  the  aiiempk, 
was  a  general  feeling  through  all  classes, 
because  they  had  every  reason  to  hope  that 
the  issue  might  be  such  as  forever  to  silence 
the  threat  of  invasion. 


CHAP.  XI. VI. 

Disaffection  begins  to  arise  against  Napoleon  among  the  Soldiery. — Purpose  of  setting 
np  Moreau  against  him. —  Character  of  Moreau — Causes  of  his  Estrangement  from 
Buonaparte.— Pichegru.— The  Duke  D' Enghien— Georges  Cadoudal.  Pichegru— 
and  other  Royalists,  landed  in  France. — Desperate  Enteiprise  of  Georges — Defeated. 
Arrest  of  Moreau — of  Pichegru— and  Georges. — Captain  Wright. — Duke  D' Enghien 
seized  at  Strasburg — hurried  to  Paris — transferred  to  Vincennes —  Tried  by  a  Mili- 
tary Commission — Condemned  and  Executed. —  Universal  Horror  of  France  and 
Europe. — Buonaparte's  Vindication  of  his  Conduct— His  Defence  considered. — Pi- 
chegru found  Dead  in  his  Prison — Attempt  to  explain  his  Death  by  charging  him  with 
Suicide — Captain  Wright  found  with  his  Throat  cut. — A  similar  attempt  made. — 
Georges  and  other  Conspirators  Tried — Condemned  and  Executed. — Royalists  silent- 
ed. — Moreau  sent  into  Exile. 


While  Buonaparte  was  meditating  the 
regeneration  of  Europe,  by  means  of  con- 
quering first  Britain  and  then  the  Northern 
Powers,  a  course  of  opposition  to  his  gov- 
ernment, and  disaffection  to  his  person, 
was  beginning  to  arise  even  among  the  sol- 
diers themselves.  The  acquisition  of  the 
Consulate  for  life,  was  naturally  consider- 
ed as  a  death-blow  to  the  Republic  ;  and  to 
that  name  many  of  the  principal  officers  of 
the  army,  who  had  advanced  themselves  to 
proraotion  by  means  of  the  Revolution,  still 


I  held  a  grateful  attachment.     The  dissatis- 
faction of  these  military  men  was  the  more 

I  natural,  as  some  of  them  might  see  in 
Buonaparte  nothing  more  than  a  success- 

j  fill  adventurer,   who   had    raised   himself 

I  high  above  the  heads  of  his  comrades,  and 
now  exacted  their  homage.  As  soldiers 
they  quickly  passed  from  murmurs  to 
threats  ;  and  at  a  festive  meeting,  which 
was  prolonged  beyond  the  limits  of  sobrie- 
ty, a  colonel  of  hussars  proposed  himself  as 
the  Brutus  to  remove  this  new  Caesar.     Be 


Chap.  XL  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


389 


ing  expert  at  the  use  of  the  pistol,  he  un- 
dertook to  hit  his  mark  at  nfty  yards  dis- 
t;ince,  during  one  of  those  reviews  which 
were  perpetually  taking  place  in  presence 
of  the  First  Consul.  The  affair  became 
known  to  the  police,  but  was  hushed  up  as 
much  as  possible  by  the  address  of  Fouche, 
who  saw  that  Buonaparte  might  be  preju- 
diced by  the  bare  act  of  making  public  that 
such  a  thing  had  been  agitated,  however  un- 
Lhinkingly. 

The  discontent  spread  wide,  and  was 
'■  cretly  augmented  by  the  agents  of  the 
House  of  Bourbon:  and,  besides  the  con- 
stitutional opposition,  whose  voice  was  at 
times  heard  in  the  Legislative  Body  and  the 
Tribunate,  there  existed  malcontents  with- 
out doors,  composed  of  two  parties,  one  of 
whom  considered  Buonaparte  as  the  enemy 
of  public  liberty,  whilst  the  other  regarded 
him  as  the  sole  obstacle  to  the  restoration 
of  the  Bourbons;  and  the  most  eager  parti- 
sins  of  both  began  to  meditate  on  the  prac- 
ticability of  removing  him  by  any  means, 
the  most  violent  and  the  most  secret  not 
r-xcepted.  Those  amorg  the  furious  Repub- 
licans, or  enthusiastic  Royalists,  who  en- 
tertained such  sentiments,  excused  them 
doubtless  to  their  conscience,  by  Napole- 
on's having  destro\ed  the  liberties,  and 
usurped  the  supreme  authority,  of  the 
country ;  thus  palliating  the  complexion 
'if  a  crime  which  can  never  be  vindi- 
cated. 

These  zealots,  however,  bore  no  propor- 
tion to  the  great  body  of  Frenchmen,  wlio, 
displeased  with  the  usurpation  of  Buona- 
parte, and  disposed  to  overthrow  it  if  pos- 
sible, held  themselves  yet  obliged  to  re- 
frain from  all  crooked  and  indirect  practi- 
ces against  his  life.  Proposing  to  destroy 
his  power  in  the  same  way  in  which  it 
had  been  built,  the  first  and  most  ne- 
cessary task  of  the  discontented  party 
was  to  find  some  military  chief,  whose  re- 
putation might  bear  to  be  balanced  against 
that  of  Napoleon  ;  and  no  one  could  claim 
such  distinction  excepting  Moreau.  If 
his  campaigns  were  inferior  to  those  of 
his  great  rival  in  the  lightning-like  bril- 
liancy and  celerity  of  their  operations,  and 
in  the  boldness  of  combination  on  which 
they  were  founded,  they  were  executed 
at  smaller  loss  to  his  troops,  and  were  less 
calculated  to  expose  him  to  disastrous  con- 
sequences if  they  chanced  to  miscarry. 
Moreau  was  no  less  celebrated  for  his 
retreat  through  the  defiles  of  the  Black 
Forest,  in  1796,  than  for  the  splendid  and 
decisive  victory  of  Hohenlinden. 

Moreau's  natural  temper  was  mild,  gen- 
tle, and  accessible  to  persuasion — a  man 
of  great  abilities  certainly,  but  scarcclv 
displaying  the  bold  and  decisive  character 
which  he  ought  to  possess,  who,  in  such 
times  as  w^e  wr'te  of,  aspires  to  place  him- 
eelf  at  the  head  of  a  faction  in  the  state. 
Indeed,  it  rather  would  seem  that  he  was 
forced  into  that  situation  of  eminence  bv  the 
influence  of  general  opinion,  joined  to  con- 
curring circumstances,  than  that  he  delib- 
erately aspired  to  place  himself  there.  He 
waa  the  son  of  a  lawyer  of  Bretagne.  and 


;  in  every  respect  a  man  who  had  risen  by 
,  the  Revolution.  He  was  not,  therefore, 
j  naturally  inclined  towards  the  Boi:rbons; 
I  yet  when  Pichegru's  communications  with 
the  exiled  family  in  1795,  became  knowa 
I  to  him  by  the  correspondence  which  he  in- 
tercepted, Moreau  kept  the  secret  until 
some  months  after,  when  Pichegni  had, 
with  the  rest  of  his  party,  fallen  under  the 
Revolution  of  18th  Fructidor.  which  in- 
stalled the  Directory  of  Barras,  Reubel, 
and  La  Raveilliere.  "After  this  period,  Mo- 
reau's marriage  with  a  lady  who  entertain- 
ed sentiments  favourable  to  the  Bourbons, 
seems  to  have  gone  some  length  in  decid- 
ing his  own  political  opinions." 

Moreau  had  lent  Buonaparte  his  sword 
and  countenance  on  18th  Brumaire  ;  but  he 
was  soon  dissatisfied  with  the  engrossing 
ambition  of  the  new  ruler  of  France,  and 
they  became  gradually  estranged  from  each 
other.  This  was  not  the  fault  of  Buona- 
parte, who,  naturally  desirous  of  attaching 
to  himself  so  great  a  general,  showed  him 
considerable  attention,  and  complained 
that  it  was  received  with  coldness.  On 
one  occasion,  a  most  splendid  pair  of  pis» 
tols  had  been  sent  to  the  First  Consul. 
"  They  arrive  in  a  happy  time/"'  he  said,  and 
presented  them  to  Moreau,  who  at  that  in- 
stant entered  his  presence-chamber.  Mo- 
reau received  the  civility  as  one  .rhich  he 
would  willingly  have  dispensed  with.  He 
made  no  other  acknowledgment  than  a  cold 
bow,  and  instantly  left  the  levee. 

Upon  the  institution  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour,  one  of  the  Grand  Crosses  was  of- 
fered to  him.  "'The  fool!"  said  Moreau, 
"  does  he  not  know  that  I  have  belonged  to 
the  ranks  of  honour  for  these  twelve  years  1" 
Another  pleasantry  on  this  topic,  upon 
which  Buonaparte  was  very  sensitive,  was 
a  company  of  officers,  who  dined  together 
with  Moreau,  voting  a  sauce-pan  of  honour 
to  the  General's  cook,  on  account  of  his 
merits  in  dressing  some  particular  dish. 
Thus,  living  estranged  from  Buonaparte, 
Moreau  came  to  be  gradually  regarded  as 
the  head  of  the  disaffected  party  in  France  ; 
and  the  eyes  of  all  those  who  disliked  Na- 
poleon or  his  government,  were  fixed  upon 
him,  as  the  only  individual  whose  influence 
might  be  capable  of  balancing  that  of  the 
Chief  Consul. 

Meantime  the  peace  of  Amiens  being 
broken,  the  British  government,  with  natu- 
ral policy,  resolved  once  more  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  state  of  public  feeling 
in  France,  and  engage  the  partisans  of  roy- 
alty in  a  fresh  attack  upon  the  Consular 
government,  They  were  probably  in  some 
degree  deceived  concerning  the  strength 
of  that  party,  which  had  been  much  reduc- 
ed under  Buonaparte's  management,  and 
had  listened  too  implicitly  to  the  promises 
and  projects  of  agents,  who,  themselves 
sanguine  beyond  what  was  warranted,  ex- 
aggerated even  their  own  hopes  in  commu- 
nicating them  to  the  British  ministers.  It 
seems  to  have  been  acknowledged,  that  lit- 
tle success  was  to  be  hoped  for.  unless 
Moreau  could  be  brought  to  join  the  con- 
spiracy.     This,    however,  was    esteemed 


390 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XL  VI. 


possible ;  and  notwithstanding  the  disa- 
greement, personal  as  well  as  political, 
which  had  subsisted  betwixt  him  and  Pich- 
egru,  the  latter  seems  to  have  undertaken 
to  become  the  medium  of  communica- 
tion betwixt  Moreau  and  the  Royalists. 
Escaped  from  the  deserts  of  Cayenne,  to 
which  he  had  been  exiled,  Pichegru  had  for 
some  time  found  refuge  and  support  in  Lon- 
don, and  there  operdy  professed  his  prin- 
ciples as  a  Royalist,  upon  which  he  had  for 
a  long  time  acted  in  secret. 

A  scheme  was  in  agitation  for  raising  the 
Royalists  in  the  west,  where  the  Duke  de 
Berri  was  to  make  a  descent  on  the  const 
of  Picardy,  to  favour  the  insurrection.  The 
Duke  d'Enghien,  grandson  of  the  Prince  of 
Conde,  fixed  his  residence  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Margrave  of  Baden,  at  the 
chateau  of  Ettenheim,  with  the  purpose, 
doubtless,  of  being  ready  to  put  himself  at' 
the  head  of  the  Royalists  in  the  east  of 
France,  or,  if  occasion  should  offer,  in 
Paris  itself.  This  Prince  of  the  House  of 
Bourbon,  the  destined  inheritor  of  the 
name  of  the  great  Conde,  was  in  the  flow- 
er of  youth,  handsome,  brave,  and  high- 
minded.  He  had  been  distinguished  for 
his  courage  in  the  emigrant  army,  which 
his  grandfather  commanded.  He  gained 
by  his  valour  the  battle  of  Bortsheim  ;  and 
when  his  army,  to  whom  the  French  Re- 
publicans showed  no  quarter,  desired  to 
execute  reprisals  on  their  prisoners,  he 
threw  himself  among  them  to  prevent  their 
violence.  "These  men,"  he  said,  "are 
Frenchmen — they  are  unfortunate — I  place 
them  under  the  guardianship  of  your  hon- 
our and  your  humanity."  Such  was  the 
princely  youth,  whose  name  must  now  be 
written  in  bloody  characters  in  this  part  of 
Napoleon's  history. 

Whilst  the  French  princes  expected  on 
the  frontier  the  effect  of  commotions  in 
the  interior  of  France,  Pichegru,  Georges 
Cadoudal,  and  about  thirty  other  Royalists 
of  the  most  determined  character,  were  se- 
cretly landed  in  France,  made  their  way  to 
the  metropolis,  and  contrived  to  find  lurk- 
ing-places invisible  to  the  all-seeing  police. 
There  can  be  no  reason  to  doubt  that  a 
part  of  those  agents,  and  Georges  in  par- 
ticular, •saw  the  greatest  obstacle  of  their 
enterprise  in  the  existence  of  Buonaparte, 
and  were  resolved  to  commence  by  his  as- 
sassination. Pichegru,  who  was  constant- 
ly in  company  with  Georges,  cannot  well 
be  supposed  ignorant  of  this  purpose,  al- 
'  though  better  befitting  the  fierce  chief  of  a 
'  band  of  Chouans  than  the  Conqueror  of 
Holland. 

In  the  meantime,  Pichegru  effected  the 
desired  communication  with  Moreau,  then, 
as  we  have  said,  considered  as  the  chief  of 
the  discontented  military  men,  and  the  de- 
clared enemy  of  Buonaparte.  They  met 
at  least  twice  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  on  one 
of  these  occasions  Picliegru  carried  with 
him  (ieorges  Cadoudal,  at  whose  person 
and  plans  Moreau  expressed  horror,  and  de- 
piren  that  Pichegru  would  not  again  bring 
that  irrational  savage  into  his  company. 
The  cause  of  his  dislike  wo  must  naturally 


suppose  to  have  been  the  nature  of  the 
measures  Georges  proposed,  being  the  last 
to  which  a  brave  and  loyal  soldierlike  Mo- 
reau would  willingly  have  resorted  to  ;  but 
Buonaparte,  when  pretending  to  give  au  ex- 
act account  of  what  passed  betwixt  Moreau 
and  Pichegru,  represents  the  conduct  of  the 
former  in  a  very  different  point  o^view. 
Moreau,  according  to  this  account,  inform- 
ed Pichegru,  that  while  the  First  Consul 
livedj  he  had  not  the  slightest  interest  in 
the  army,  and  that  not  even  bis  own  aids- 
de-camp  would  follow  him  agaiost  Napole- 
on ;  but  were  Napoleon  removed,  Moreau 
assured  them  all  eyes  would  be  fixed  on 
himself  alone — that  he  would  then  become 
First  Consul — that  Pichegru  should  be  sec- 
ond, and  was  proceeding  to  make  farther 
arrangements,  when  Georges  broke  in  on 
tiieir  deliberations  with  fury,  accused  the 
generals  of  scheming  their  own  grandeur, 
not  the  restoration  of  the  King,  and  de- 
clared that  to  choose  betwixt  blue  and  blue, 
(a  phrase  by  which  the  V'endeans  distin- 
guished the  Republicans,)  he  would  as 
soon  have  Buonaparte  as  Moreau  at  the 
head  of  affairs,  and  concluded  by  statin? 
his  own  pretensions  to  be  Third  Consul 
at  least.  According  to  this  account,  there- 
fore, Moreau  was  not  shocked  at  the  atroci- 
ty of  Georges's  enterprise,  of  which  he 
himself  had  been  the  first  to  admit  the  ne- 
cessity, but  only  disgusted  at  the  share 
which  the  Chouan  chief  assorted  to  him- 
self in  the  partition  of  the  spoil.  But  we 
pH'e  no  credit  whatever  to  this  story. 
Though  nothing  could  have  been  so  impor- 
tant to  the  First  Consul  at  the  time  as  to 
produce  proof  of  Moreau's  direct  accession 
to  the  plot  on  his  life,  no  such  proof  waa 
ever  brought  forward ;  and  therefore  the 
statement,  we  have  little  doubt,  was  made 
up  afterwards,  and  contains  what  Buona- 
parte might  think  probable,  and  desire  that 
others  should  believe,  not  what  he  knew 
from  certain  information,  or  was  able  to 
prove  by  credible  testimony. 

The  police  was  speedily  alarmed,  and  ill 
action.  Notice  had  been  received  that  a 
band  of  Royalists  had  introduced  them- 
selves into  the  capital,  though  it  was  for 
some  time  very  difficult  to  apprehend  them. 
Georges,  meanwhile,  prosecuted  his  at- 
tempt against  tiie  Chief  Consul,  and  is  be- 
lieved at  one  time  to  have  insinuated  him- 
self in  the  disguise  of  a  menial  into  the  1M- 
illeries,  and  even  into  Buonaparte's  apart- 
ment ;  but  without  finding  any  opportunity 
to  strike  the  blow,  which  his  uncommon 
strength  and  desperate  resolution  might 
otherwise  have  rendered  decisive.  All  the 
barriers  were  closed,  aud  a  division  of 
Buonaparte's  guards  maintained  the  closeit 
watch,  to  prevent  any  one  escaping  from 
the  city.  By  degrees  sufficient  light  wai 
obtained  to  enable  the  government  to  make 
a  communication  to  the  public  upon  the 
existence  and  tendency  of^  the  conspiracy, 
which  became  more  especially  necessary, 
when  it  was  resolved  to  arrest  Moreau 
himself.  This  took  place  on  the  15th  Feb- 
ruary 1804.  He  was  seized  without  diffi- 
culty or  resistance,  while  residing  quietlj 


I' 


Chap.  XL  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


301 


Kt  his  country-house.  On  the  day  follow- 
ing, an  order  of  the  day,  signed  by  Murat, 
then  Governor  of  Paris,  announced  the  fact 
to  the  citizens,  with  the  additional  informa- 
tion, that  Moreau  was  engaged  in  a  conspi- 
racy with  Pichegru,  Georges,  and  others, 
who  were  closely  pursued  by  the  police. 

The  news  of  Moreau's  imprisonment  pro- 
duced the  deepest  sensation  in  Paris  ;  and 
the  reports  which  w^re  circulated  on  the  sub- 
ject were  by  no  means  favourable  to  Buon- 
aparte. Some  disbelieved  the  plot  entirely, 
while  others,  less  sceptical,  considered  the 
Chief  Consul  as  making  a  pretext  of  the 
abortive  attempt  of  Pichegru  and  Georges 
for  the  purpose  of  sacrificing  Moreau,'  who 
was  at  once  his  rival  in  military  fame,  and 
the  declared  opponent  of  his  government. 
It  was  even  asserted  that  secret  agents  of 
Buonaparte  in  London  had  been  active  in 
encouraging  the  attempts  of  the  original 
conspirators,  for  the  sake  of  implicating  a 
man  whom  the  First  Consul  both  hated  and 
feared.  Of  this  there  was  no  proof;  but 
these  and  other  dark  suspicions  pervaded 
men's  minds,  and  all  eyes  were  turned 
with  anxiety  upon  the  issue  of  the  legal  in- 
vestigations which  were  about  to  take  place. 

Upon  the  17lli  February,  the  Great  Judge 
of  Police,  by  a  report  which  was  communi- 
cated to  the  Senate,  the  Legislative  Body, 
and  the  Tribunate,  denounced  Pichegru. 
Georges,  and  others,  as  having  returned  to 
France  from  their  exile,  with  the  purpose 
of  overthrowing  the  government,  and  as- 
sassinating the  Chief  Consul,  and  impli- 
cated Moreau  as  having  held  communica- 
tion with  them.  When  the  report  was  read 
in  the  Tribunate,  the  brother  of  Moreau 
wose,  and,  recalling  the  merits  and  services 
of  his  relative,  complained  of  the  cruelty 
of  calumniating  him  without  pr9of,  and  de- 
manded for  him  the  privilege  of  an  open 
and  public  trial. 

"  This  is  a  fine  display  of  sensibility," 
said  Curee,  one  of  the  Tribunes,  in  ridicule 
of  the  sensation  naturally  produced  by  this 
affecting  incident. 

"  It  is  a  display  of  indignation,"  replied 
the  brother  of  Moreau,  and  left  the  As- 
icmbly. 

The  public  bodies,  however,  did  what 
was  doubtless  expected  of  them,  and  carri- 
ed to  the  foot  of  the  Consular  throne  the 
most  exaggerated  expressions  of  their  inter- 
est in  the  life  and  safety  of  him  by  whom 
it  wa«  occupied. 

Meanwhile  the  vigilance  of  the  police, 
and  the  extraordinary  means  employed  by 
them,  accomplished  the  arrest  of  almost 
all  the  persons  concerned  in  the  plot.  A 
false  friend,  whom  Pichegru  had  trusted  to 
the  highest  degree,  betrayed  his  confidence 
for  a  large  bribe,  and  introduced  the  gens 
d'armes  into  his  apartment  while  he  was 
asleep.  They  first  secured  the  arms  which 
lay  beside  him,  and  then  his  person,  after 
a  severe  struggle.  Georges  Cadoudal,  per- 
haps a  yet  more  important  capture,  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  police  soon  after.  He  had 
been  traced  so  closely,  that  at  length  he 
dared  not  enter  a  house,  but  spent  many 
hours  of  the  day  and  night  in  driving  about 


Paris  in  a  cabriolet.  On  being  arrested,  he 
shot  one  of  the  gens  d'armos  dead,  mortally 
wounded  another,  and  had  nearly  escaped 
from  them  all.  The  other  conspirators, 
and  those  accused  of  countenancing  their 
enterprise,  were  arrested  to  the  number  of 
forty  persons,  who  were  of  very  different 
characters  and  conditions  ;  some  followers 
or  associates  of  Georges,  and  others  belong- 
ing to  the  ancient  nobility.  Among  the 
latter  were  Messrs.  Armand  and  Jules  Po- 
ligiiac,  Charles  de  la  Riviere,  and  other 
Royalists  of  distinction.  Chance  had  also 
thrown  into  Buonaparte's  power  a  victim 
of  another  description.  Captain  Wright, 
the  commander  of  a  British  brig  of  war,  had 
been  engaged  in  putting  ashore  on  the 
coast  of  Morbihan,  Pichegru,  and  some  of 
liis  companions.  Shortly  afterwards,  his 
vessel  was  captured  by  a  French  vessel  of 
superior  force.  Under  pretence  that  his 
evidence  was  necessary  to  the  conviction 
of  the  P'rench  conspirators,  he  was  brought 
up  to  Paris,  committed  to  the  Temple,  and 
treated  with  a  rigour  which  became  a  pre- 
lude to  the  subsequent  tragedy. 

It  might  have  been  supposed,  that  among 
so  many  prisoners,  enough  of  victims  might 
have  been  selected  to  atone  with  their 
lives  for  the  insurrection  which  they  were 
accused  of  meditating  ;  nay,  for  the  attempt 
which  was  alleged  to  be  designed  against 
the  person  of  the  First  Consul.  Most  un- 
happily for  his  fame.  Napoleon  thought  oth- 
erwise ;  and,  from  causes  which  we  shall 
hereafter  endeavour  to  appreciate,  sought 
to  give  a  fuller  scope  to  the  gratification 
of  his  revenge,  than  the  list  of  his  captives, 
though  containing  several  men  of  high  rank, 
enabled  liim  to  accomplish. 

We  have  observed,  that  the  residence  of 
the  Duke  d'Enghien  upon  the  French  fron- 
tier was  to  a  certain  degree  connected  with 
the  enterprise  undertaken  by  Pichegru,  so 
far  as  concerned  the  proposed  insurrection 
of  the  royalists  in  Paris.  This  we  infer 
from  the  Duke's  admission,  that  he  resided 
at  Ettenheim  in  the  expectation  of  having 
soon  a  part  of  importance  to  play  in  France.* 
This  was  perfectly  vindicated  by  his  situa- 
tion and  connexions.  But  that  the  Dme 
participated  in,  or  countenanced  in  t.tc 
slightest  degree,  the  meditated  attempt  on 
Buonaparte's  life,  has  never  even  been  al- 
leged, and  is  contrary  to  all  the  proof  in  the 
case,  and  especially  to  the  sentiments  im- 
pressed upon  him  by  his  grandfather,  the 
Prince  of  Conde.f     He  lived  in  great  pri- 

*  The  passage  alluded  to  is  in  the  Duke  ( f  Rovi- 
go's  (Savary'.s)  Vindication  of  his  own  conduct. 
At  tlie  same  time  no  traccsof  such  an  admission 
are  to  be  found  in  the  interrogations,  as  printed 
elsewhere.  It  is  also  said,  that  when  the  Duke 
(ihnn  at  Ettenheim)  first  heard  of  llie  conspiracy 
of  Pichegru,  he  alleged  that  it  must  have  been  only 
a  prelcmled  discovery.  "  Had  there  l)een  such  an 
inlrigne  in  reality,"  he  said,  "my  father  and 
grandfather  would  have  let  me  know  something  of 
the  matter,  that  I  mi"ht  provide  for  my  safety." 
It  may  be  added,  that  if  he  had  been  really  engag- 
ed in  that  conspiracy,  it  is  probable  that  he  would 
have  retired  from  the  vicinity  of  the  French  terri- 
tory on  the  scheme  being  discovered. 

I  A  remarkable  letter  from  the  Prince  of  CoimW 


392 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XL  VI. 


■vjcy,  and  amused  himself  principally  with 
hunting.  A  pension  allowed  him  by  Eng- 
land was  his  only  means  of  support. 

On  the  evening  of  the  14tn  March,  a 
body  of  French  soldiers  and  gens  d'armes, 
commanded  by  Colonel  Ordener,  acting 
under  the  direction  of  Caulaincourt,  after- 
wards called  Duke  of  Vicenza,  who  had 
been  sent  to  Strasburg  to  superintend  their 
proceedings  suddenly  entered  the  territory 
of  Baden,  a  power  with  whom  France  was 
in  profound  peace,  and  surrounded  the 
chateau  in  which  the  unfortunate  prince  re- 
sided. The  descendant  of  Condf  sprung 
to  his  arms,  but  was  prevented  from  using 
them  by  one  of  his  attendants,  who  repre- 
sented the  force  of  the  assailants  as  too 
great  to  be  resisted.  The  soldiers  rushed 
into  the  apartment,  and,  presenting  their 
pistols,  demanded  to  know  which  was  the 
Duke  d'Enghien.  "  If  you  desire  to  arrest 
him,"  said  the  Duke,  "you  ought  to  have 
his  description  in  your  warrant."—"  Then 
we  must  seize  on  you  all,"  replied  the  offi- 
cer in  command;  and  the  prince,  with  his 
little  household,  were  arrested  and  carried 
to  a  mill  at  some  distance  from  the  house, 
wliere  he  was  permitted  to  receive  some 
clothes  and  necessaries.  Being  now  recog- 
nized, he  was  transferred,  with  his  attend- 
ants, to  the  citadel  of  Strasburg,  and  pres- 
ently afterwards  separated  from  the  gentle- 
men of  his  household,  with  the  exception 
of  his  aid-de-camp,  the  Baron  de  St.  Jac- 
ques. The  most  exact  precautions  were 
taken  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  his  com- 
municating with  any  one.  He  remained 
a  close  prisoner  for  three  days  ;  but  on  the 
18th,  betwixt  one  and  two  in  the  morning, 
a  party  of  gens  d'armes  entered  his  apart- 
ment, and  obliged  him  to  rise  and  dress 
himself  hastily,  informing  him  only  that  he 


to  tl>e  Conipte  d'Attois,  dated  24th  January  1802, 
contains  the  following  passage,  which  we  trans- 
late literally: — "  The  Chevalier  de  Roll  will  give 
vou  an  account  of  what  has  passed  here  yesterday. 
A  man  of  a  very  simple  and  gentle  exterior  arrived 
the  night  before,  and  iiaving  travelled,  as  he  aflirni- 
C(l,  on  foot,  from  Paris  to  Calais,  had  an  audience 
of  me  about  eleven  in  the  forenoon,  and  distinctly 
offered  to  rid  us  of  the  Usurper  by  the  shortest 
method  possible.  I  ilid  not  give  him  time  to  finish 
the  details  of  his  project,  but  rejected  the  proposal 
with  horror,  assuring  him  that  you,  if  present, 
would  do  the  same.  1  told  him,  we  should  always 
be  the  enemies  of  him  who  had  arrogated  to  him- 
self the  power  and  the  throne  of  our  Sovereign, 
until  he  siiould  make  restitution :  that  we  had 
combated  the  Usurper  by  open  force,  and  would  do 
so  again  if  opportunity  offered  ;  but  that  we  would 
never  employ  that  species  of  means  which  only 
became  the  Jacobin  party  ;  and  if  that  faction 
should  meditate  such  a  crime,  assuredly  we  would 
not  be  their  accomplices."  This  discourse  the 
I'rince  renewed  to  the  secret  agent  in  the  presence 
of  the  Chevalier  de  Roll,  as  a  confidential  friend 
of  the  Compte  d'Arfdis,  and,  finally,  advised  the 
man  instantly  to  leave  England,  as,  in  case  of  his 
being  arrested,  the  Prince  would  afford  him  no 
countenance  or  protection.  The  person  to  whom 
tlie  Prince  of  Conde'  addressed  sentiments  so  wor- 
thy of  himself  and  of  his  great  ancestor,  after- 
wards proved  to  be  an  agent  of  Buonaparte,  de- 
•  patched  to  sound  the  opinions  of  the  Princes  of 
the  House  of  Bourbon,  and  if  possible  to  implicate 
them  in  such  a  nefarious  project  as  should  justly 
excite  public  indignation  against  them. 


was  about  to  commence  a  journey.  He  re- 
quested the  attendance  of  his  valet-de- 
chambre  ;  but  was  answered  that  it  was  un- 
necessary. The  linen  which  he  was  per. 
mitted  to  take  with  him  amounted  to  two 
shirts  only,  so  nicely  had  his  worldly  wants 
been  calculated  and  ascertained.  He  was 
transported  with  the  utmost  speed  and  se- 
crecy towards  Paris,  where  he  arrived  on  the 
20th,  and  after  having  been  committed  for  a 
few  hours  to  the  Temple,  was  transferred 
to  the  ancient  Gothic  castle  of  Vincennes, 
about  a  mile  from  the  city,  long  used  as  a 
state  prison,  but  whose  walls  never  receiv- 
ed a  more  illustrious  or  a  more  innocent 
victim.  There  he  was  permitted  to  take 
some  repose  ;  and,  as  if  the  favour  had  on- 
ly been  granted  for  the  purpose  of  being 
withdrawn,  he  was  awaked  at  midnight, 
and  called  upon  to  sustain  an  interrogatory 
on  which  his  life  depended. 

The  inquisitors  before  whom  he  was  car- 
ried, formed  a  military  commission  of  eight 
officers,  having  General  Hulin  as  their 
president.  They  were,  as  the  proceedings 
express  it,  named  by  Buonaparte's  brother- 
in-law  Murat,  then  governor  of  Paris. — 
Though  necessarily  exhausted  with  fatigue 
and  want  of  rest,  the  Duke  d'Enghien  per- 
formed in  this  melancholy  scene  a  part 
worthy  of  the  last  descendant  of  the  great 
Conde.  He  avowed  his  name  and  rank, 
and  the  share  which  he  had  taken  in  the 
•war  against  France,  but  denied  all  knowl- 
edge of  Pichegru  or  of  his  conspiracy. 
The  interrogations  ended  by  his  demand- 
ing an  audience  of  the  Chief  Consul.  "  My 
name,"  he  said,  "  my  rank,  my  sentiments, 
and  the  peculiar  distress  of  my  situation, 
lead  me  to  hope  that  my  request  will  not 
be  refused." 

The  military  commissioners  paused  and 
hesitated — nay,  though  selected  doubtless 
as  fitted  for  the  office,  they  were  even  affect- 
ed by  the  whole  behaviour,  and  especially  by 
the  intrepidity,  of  the  unhappy  prince.  But 
Savary,  then  chief  of  the  police,  stood  be- 
hind the  president's  chair  and  controlled 
their  sentiments  of  compassion.  When 
they  proposed  to  further  the  prisoners 
request  of  an  audience  of  the  First  Consul, 
Savary  cut  the  discussion  short,  by  saying, 
that  was  inexpedient.  At  length  they  re- 
ported their  opinion,  that  the  Duke  d'En- 
ghien was  guilty  of  having  fought  against 
the  Republic,  intrigued  with  England,  and 
maintained  intelligence  in  .Strasburg,  for  the 
purpose  of  seizing  the  place  ; — great  part 
of  which  allegations,  and  especially  the 
last,  was  in  express  contradiction  to  the  on- 
ly proof  adduced,  the  admission,  namely, 
of  the  prisoner  himself.  The  report  being 
sent  to  Buonaparte  to  know  his  farther 
pleasure,  the  court  received  for  answer 
their  own  letter,  marked  with  the  emphatic 
words,  "Condemned  to  death."  Napoleon 
was  obeyed  by  his  satraps  with  Persian  de- 
votion. The  sentence  was  pronounced, 
and  the  prisoner  received  it  with  the  same 
intrepid  gallantry  which  distinguished  him 
through  the  whole  of  the  bloody  scene. 
He  requested  the  aid  of  a  confessor. — 
"  Would  you  die  like  a  monk?"  is  said  to 


Chap.  XL  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


393 


have  been  the  insulting  reply.  The  duke, 
without  noticing  the  insult,  knelt  down  for 
&  minute,  and  seemed  absorbed  in  profound 
devotion. 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said,  when  he  arose 
from  his  knees.  All  was  in  readiness  for 
the  execution ;  and,  as  if  to  stamp  the  trial 
as  a  mere  mockery,  the  grave  had  been 
prepared  ere  the  judgment  of  the  court  was 
pronounced.*  Upon  quitting  the  apart- 
ment in  which  the  pretended  trial  had  ta- 
ken place,  the  prince  was  conducted  by 
torch-light  down  a  winding  stair,  which 
seemed  to  descend  to  the  dungeons  of  the 
ancient  castle. 

"  .\m  I  to  be  immured  in  an  oubliette  ?" 
he  said,  naturally  recollecting  the  use 
which  had  sometimes  been  made  of  those 
tombs  for  the  livinrr. — "  No,  Monseigneur," 
answered  the  soldier  he  addressed,  in  a 
voice  interrupted  by  uohs,  "  be  tranquil  on 
that  subject."  The  stair  led  to  a  postern, 
which  opened  into  the  castle  ditch,  where, 
as  we  have  already  said,  a  grave  was  dug, 
beside  wliich  were  drawn  up  a  party  of  the 
gens  d'armes  d'clite.  It  was  near  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  day  had  dawned.  But 
as  there  was  a  heavy  mist  on  the  ground, 
several  torches  and  lamps  mixed  their  pale 
and  ominous  light  with  that  afforded  by  the 
heavens, — a  circumstance  which  seems  to 
have  given  rise  to  the  inaccurate  report, 
that  a  lantern  was  tied  to  the  button  of  the 
victim,  that  his  slayers  might  take  the  more 
certain  aim.  .Savary  was  again  in  attend- 
ance, and  had  taken  his  place  upon  a  para- 
pet which  commanded  the  place  of  execu- 
tion. The  victim  was  placed,  the  fatal 
word  was  given  by  the  future  Duke  de  Ro- 
vigo,  the  party  fired,  and  the  prisoner  fell. 
The  body,  dressed  as  it  was,  and  without 
the  slightest  attention  to  the  usual  decen- 
cies of  sepulture,  was  huddled  into  the 
grave  with  as  little  ceremony  as  common 
robbers  use  towards  the  carcases  of  the 
murdered. 

Paris  learned  with  astonishment  and  fear 
the  singular  deed  which  had  been  perpetra- 
ted so  near  her  walls.  No  act  had  ever  ex- 
cited more  universal  horror,  both  in  France 
and  in  foreign  countries,  and  none  has  left  so 
deep  a  stain  on  the  memory  of  Napoleon.  If 
there  were  farther  proof  necessary  of  the 
general  opinion  of  mankind  on  the  subject. 
the  anxiety  displayed  by  Savary,  Hulin,  and 
the  other  subaltern  assents  in  this  shameful 
transaction,  to  diminish  their  own  share  in 
it,  or  transfer  it  to  otliers,  would  be  sufficient 
evidence  of  the  deep  responsioilitv  to 
which  they  felt  themselves  subjected. ' 

There  is  but  justice,  however,  in  listen- 
ing to  the  defence  which  Buonaparte  set 
up  for  himself  when  in  Saint  Helena,  es- 
pecially as  it  appeared  perfectly  convincinir 
to  Las  Cases,  his  attendant,  who,  though 
reconciled  to  most  of  his  master's  actions, 

*Savary  has  denird  tliia.  It  is  not  of  much 
oonsequenca  The  illp^il  arrest — the  precipita- 
tion of  the  mock  trial — the  disconformity  of  tlie 
■entence  from  the  proof— the  hurry  of  the  execu- 
tion— all  prove  that  the  unfortunate  prince  was 
doomed  to  die  long  before  be  was  brought  before 
be  military  commission.  _ 

VoJ  I  R  2 


had  continued  to  regard  the  Duke  d'En- 
ghien's  death  as  so  great  a  blot  upon  his  es- 
cutcheon, that  he  blushed  even  when  Na- 
poleon himself  introduced  the  subject.* 

His  exculpation  seems  to  have  assumed 
a  different  and  inconsistent  character,  ac- 
cording to  the  audience  to  whom  it  was 
stated.  Among  his  intimate  friends  and  fol- 
lowers, he  appears  to  have  represented  the 
whole  transaction  as  an  affair  not  of  his  own 
device,  but  which  was  pressed  upon  him  by 
surprise  by  his  ministers.  "  I  was  seated,'' 
ho  said,  '•'  alone,  and  engaged  in  finishing 
my  coffee,  when  they  came  to  announce  to 
me  the  discovery  of  some  new  machination. 
They  represented  it  was  time  to  put  an  end 
to  such  horrible  attempts,  by  washing  my- 
self in  the  blood  of  one  amongst  the  Bour- 
bons; and  they  suggested  the  Duke  d'En- 
ghien  as  the  most  proper  victim."  Buona- 
parte proceeds  to  say,  that  he  did  not  know 
exactly  who  the  Duke  d'Enghien  was,  far 
less  that  he  resided  so  near  France  as  to  be 
only  three  leagues  from  the  Rhine.  This 
was  explained.  '•  In  that  case,"  said  Napo- 
leon, "  he  ought  to  be  arrested."  His  pru- 
dent ministers  had  foreseen  this  conclusion. 
They  had  the  whole  scheme  laid,  and  the 
orders  ready  drawn  up  for  Buonaparte's  sig- 
nature ;  so  that,  according  to  this  account, 
he  was  hurried  into  the  enormity  by  the 
zeal  of  those  about  him,  or  perhaps  in  con- 
sequence of  their  private  views  and  myste- 
rious intrigues.  He  also  charged  Talley- 
rand with  concealing  from  him  a  letter, 
written  by  the  unfortunate  prisoner,  in 
which  he  offered  his  services  to  Buona- 
parte, but  which  was  intercepted  by  the 
minister.  If  this  had  reached  him  in  time, 
he  intimates  that  he  would  Imve  spared  the 
prince's  life.  To  render  this  statement 
probable,  he  denies  generally  that  Josephine 
had  interested  herself  to  the  utmost  to  en- 
gage him  to  spare  the  duke  ;  although  this 
has  been  affirmed  by  the  testimony  of  such 
as  declared,  that  they  received  the  fact  from 
the  Empress's  own  lips. 

It  is  unfortunate  for  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment, and  the  soundness  of  the  defence 
which  it  contains,  that  neither  Talleyrand, 
nor  any  human  being  save  Buonaparte  him- 
self, could  have  the  least  interest  in  the 
death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien.  That  Napo- 
leon should  be  furious  at  the  conspiracies 
of  Georges  and  Pichegru,  and  should  be, 
willing  to  avenge  the  personal  dangers  he 
incurred  ;  and  that  he  should  be  desirous  to 
intimidate  the  family  of  Bourbon,  by  ■•  wash- 
ing himself,"  as  he  expresses  it,  ''  in  the 
blood  of  one  of  their  House,"  was  much  in 
character.  But  that  the  sagacious  Talley- 
rand should  have  hurried  on  a  cruel  pro- 
ceeding, in  which  he  had  no  earthly  inter- 
est, is  as  unlikely,  as  that,  if  he  had  desired 
to  do  so,  he  could  have  been  able  to  elicit 
from  Buonaparte  the  powers  necessary  for 
an  act  of  so  much  consequence,  without  his 
master  having   given  the  affair,  in  all   its 

*  The  reasoning  and  sentiments  of  Buonapari^ 
on  this  subject,  are  taken  from  the  work  of  I^i^ 
Cases,  torn.  iv.  partie  7ieme,  p.  249,  where  t)i<  v 
are  given  at.  great  length. 


394 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chop.  XL  VI. 


bearings,  the  most  full  and  ample  consider- 
ation. It  may  also  be  noticed,  that  besides 
transferring  a  part  at  least  of  the  guilt  from 
himself,  Buonaparte  might  be  disposed  to 
gratify  his  revenge  against  Talleyrand,  by 
stigmatising  him,  from  St.  Helena,  with  a 
crime  the  most  odious  to  his  new  sovereigns 
of  the  House  of  Bourbon.  Lastly,  the  ex- 
istence of  the  letter  above-mentioned  has 
never  been  proved,  and  it  is  inconeistent 
with  every  thought  and  sentiment  of  the 
Duke  d'Enghien.  It  is  besides  said  to  have 
been  dated  from  Strasburg ;  and  the  duke's 
aid-de-camp,  the  Baron  de  St.  Jacques,  has 
given  his  testimony  that  he  was  never  an 
instant  separated  from  his  patron  during  his 
confinement,  in  that  citadel ;  and  that  the 
duke  neither  wrote  a  letter  to  Buonaparte 
nor  to  any  one  else.  But  after  all,  if  Buo- 
naparte had  actually  proceeded  in  this 
bloody  matter  upon  the  instigation  of  Tal- 
leyrand, it  cannot  be  denied,  that,  as  a  man 
knowing  right  from  wrong,  he  could  not 
hope  to  transfer  to  his  counsellor  the  guilt 
of  the  measures  which  he  executed  at  his 
recommendation.  The  murder,  like  the  re- 
bellion of  Absalom,  was  not  less  a  crime, 
even  supposing  it  recommended  and  facili- 
tated by  the  unconscientious  counsels  of  a 
modern  Achitophel. 

Accordingly,  Napoleon  has  not  chosen  to 
trust  to  this  defence  :  but,  inconsistently 
with  his  pretence  of  being  hurried  into  the 
flieasure  by  Talleyrand,  he  has,  upon  other 
occasions,  broadly  and  boldly  avowed  that 
it  was  in  itself  just  and  necessary  ;  that  the 
Duke  d'Enghien  was  condemned  by  the 
laws,  and  suffered  execution  accordingly 
under  ^heir  sanction. 

It  is  an  eas*-  task  to  show,  that  even  ac- 
cording to  the  law  of  France,  jealous  and 
severe  as  it  was  in  its  application  to  such 
subjects,  there  existed  no  right  to  take  the 
life  of  the  duke.  It  is  true  he  was  an  emi- 
giunt,  and  the  law  denounced  the  penalty 
of  death  against  such  of  these  as  should  re- 
turn to  France  with  arms  in  their  hands. 
But  the  duke  did  not  so  return — nay,  his  re- 
turning at  all  was  not  an  act  of  his  own,  but 
the  consequence  of  violence  exercised  on 
his  person.  He  was  in  a  more  favourable 
case,  than  even  those  emigrants  whom 
storms  had  cast  on  their  native  shore,  and 
whom  Buonaparte  himself  considered  as 
objects  of  pity,  not  of  punishment.  He 
had  indeed  borne  arms  against  France  ;  but 
as  a  member  of  the  House  of  Bourbon,  he 
was  not,  and  could  not  be  accounted,  a  sub- 
ject of  Buonaparte,  having  left  the  country 
before  his  name  was  heard  of  5  nor  could  he 
be  considered  a.s  in  contumacy  against  the 
state  of  France,  for  he,  like  the  rest  of  the 
roya.  family,  wad  specially  excluded  from 
the  benefits  of  the  amnesty  which  invited 
the  return  of  the  less  distinguished  emi- 
grants. The  act  by  which  he  was  trepan- 
ned, and  brought  witliin  the  compass  of 
French  power,  not  of  French  law,  was  as 
much  a  violation  of  the  rights  of  nations,  as 
the  precipitation  with  which  the  pretended 
trial  followed  the  arrest,  and  the  execution 
the  trial,  was  an  outrage  upon  humanity. 
On  the    trial  no  witnesses  were  produced, 


nor  did  any  investigation  take  place,  saving 
by  the  interrogation  of  the  prisoner.  What- 
ever points  of  accusation,  therefore,  are 
not  established  by  the  admission  of  the  duke 
himself,  must  be  considered  as  totally  un- 
proved. Yet  this  unconscientious  tribunal 
not  only  found  their  prisoner  guilty  of 
having  borne  arms  against  the  Republic, 
which  he  readily  admitted,  but  of  having 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  a  party  of 
French  emigrants  in  the  pay  of  England, 
and  carried  on  machinations  for  surprising 
the  city  of  Strasburg  ;  charges  which  he 
himself  positively  denied,  and  which  were 
supported  by  no  proof  whatsoever. 

Buonaparte,  well  aware  of  the  total  ir- 
regularity of  the  proceedings  in  this  extra- 
ordinary case,  seems,  on  some  occasions, 
to  have  wisely  renounced  any  attempt  to  de- 
fend what  he  must  have  been  convinced 
was  indefensible,  and  has  vindicated  hi* 
conduct  upon  general  grounds,  of  a  nature 
well  worthy  of  notice.  It  seems  that,  whea 
he  spoke  of  the  death  of  the  Duke  d'En- 
ghien among  his  attendants,  he  always  chose 
to  represent  it  as  a  case  falling  under  the 
ordinary  forms  of  law,  in  which  all  regular- 
ity was  observed,  and  where,  though  he 
might  be  accused  of  severity,  he  could  not 
be  charged  with  violation  of  justice.  This 
was  safe  language  to  hearers  from  whom  he 
was  sure  to  receive  neither  objection  nor 
contradiction,  and  is  just  an  instance  of  an 
attempt,  on  the  part  of  a  consciously  guilty 
party,  to  establish,  by  repeated  assevera- 
tions, an  innocence  which  was  inconsistent 
with  fact.  But  with  strangers,  from  whom 
replies  and  argument  might  "be  expected. 
Napoleon  took  broader  grounds.  He  alleg- 
ed the  death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  to  he 
an  act  of  self-defence,  a  measure  of  state 
polity,  arising  out  of  the  natural  rights  of 
humanity,  by  which  a  man,  to  save  his  own 
life,  is  entitled  to  take  away  that  of  another, 
"  I  was  assailed,"  he  said,  "  on  all  hands  bj 
the  enemies  whom  the  Bourbons  raised  up 
against  me  ;  threatened  with  air-guns,  in- 
fernal machines,  and  deadly  stratagems  of 
every  kind.  I  had  no  tribunal  on  earth  to 
which  I  could  appeal  for  protection,  there- 
fore I  had  a  right  to  protect  myself;  and  by 
putting  to  death  one  of  those  whose  follow- 
ers threatened  my  life,  I  was  entitled  to 
strike  a  salutary  terror  into  the  others. 

We  have  no  doubt  that,  in  this  argument, 
which  is  in  the  original  niuc'i  extended, 
Buonaparte  explained  his  real  motives ;  at 
least  we  can  only  add  to  them  the  stimulus 
of  obstinate  resentment,  and  implacable  re- 
venge. But  the  whole  resolves  itself  into 
an  allegation  of  that  state  necessity,  which 
has  been  justly  called  the  Tyrant's  plea,  and 
which  has  always  been  at  hand  to  defend, 
or  rather  to  palliate,  the  worst  crimes  of 
sovereigns.  The  prince  may  be  lamented, 
who  is  exposed,  from  civil  disaffection,  to 
the  dagger  of  the  assassin,  but  his  danger 
gives  him  no  right  to  turn  such  a  weapon, 
even  against  the  individual  person  by  whom 
it  is  pointed  at  him.  Far  less  could  the  at- 
tempt of  any  violent  partisans  of  the  Hou»e 
of  Bourbon  authorize  the  First  Coniul  to 
take,  by  a  suborned  judgment,  and  the  oioat 


Chap.XLVI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


395 


precipitate  procedure,  the  life  of  a  young 
prince,  against  whom  the  accession  to  the 
conspiracies  of  which  Napoleon  complained 
had  never  been  alleged,  far  less  proved.  In 
every  point  of  view,  the  act  was  a  murder; 
and  the  stain  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien's  blood 
must  remain  indelibly  upon  Napoleon  Buo- 
Daparte . 

With  similar  sophistry,  he  attempted  to 
daub  over  the  violation  of  the  neutral  terri- 
tory of  Baden,  which  was  committed  for 
the  purpose  of  enabling  his  emissaries  to 
seize  the  person  of  his  unhappy  victim. 
This,  according  to  Buonaparte,  was  a  wrong 
which  was  foreign  to  the  case  of  the  Duke 
d'  Enghien,  and  concerned  the  sovereign  of 
Baden  alone.  As  that  prince  never  com- 
plained of  this  violation,  •'  the  plea,"  he 
contended,  "  could  not  be  used  by  any  oth- 
er person."  This  was  merely  speaking  as 
one  who  has  power  to  do  wrong.  To  whom 
was  the  Duke  of  Baden  to  complain,  or  what 
reparation  could  he  expect  by  doing  so  ? 
He  was  in  the  condition  of  a  poor  man,  who 
Buffers  injustice  at  the  hands  of  a  wealthy 
neighbour,  because  he  has  no  means  to  go 
to  law,  but  whose  acquiescence  under  the 
injury  cannot  certainly  change  its  charac- 
ter, or  render  that  invasion  just  which  is  in 
Its  own  character  distinctly  otherwise.  The 
passage  may  be  marked  as  showing  Napo- 
leon's unhappy  predilection  to  consider 
public  measures  not  according  to  the  im- 
mutable rules  of  right  and  wrong,  but  ac- 
cording to  the  opportunities  which  the 
weakness  of  one  kingdom  may  afford  to  the 
superior  strength  of  another. 

It  may  be  truly  added,  that  even  the  pli- 
ant argument  of  state  necessity  was  far  from 
justifying  this  fatal  deed.  To  have  retained 
the  Duke  d'Enghien  a  prisoner,  as  a  host- 
age who  might  be  made  responsible  for  the 
Royalists'  abstainmg  from  their  plots,  might 
have  had  in  it  some  touch  of  policy;  but 
the  murder  of  the  young  and  gallant  prince, 
in  a  way  so  secret  and  so  savage,  had  a  deep 
moral  effect  upon  the  European  world,  and 
excited  hatred  against  Buonaparte  wherever 
the  tale  was  told.  In  tlie  well-known  words 
of  Fouche.  the  duke's  execution  was  worse 
than  a  moral  crime — it  was  a  political  blun- 
der. It  had  this  consequence  most  unfor- 
tunate for  Buonaparte,  that  it  seemed  to 
Btamp  his  character  as  bloody  and  unforgiv- 
ing ;  and  in  so  far  prepared  the  public  mind 
to  receive  the  worst  impressions,  and  au- 
thorized the  worst  suspicions,  when  other 
tragedies  of  a  more  mysterious  character 
■followed  that  of  the  last  of  the  race  of 
Conde. 

The  Duke  d'Enghien's  execution  took 
place  on  the  21st  March  ;  on  the  7th  Aoril 
following  General  Pichegru  was  found  dead 
in  his  prison.  A  black  handkerchief  was 
wrapped  round  his  neck,  which  had  been 
tightened  by  twisting  round  a  short  stick 
inserted  through  one  of  the  folds.  It  was 
asserted  that  he  had  turned  this  stick  with 
his  own  hands,  until  lie  lost  the  power  of 
respiring,  and  then,  by  laying  his  head  on 
the  pillow,  had  secured  the  stick  in  its  po- 
•ition.  It  did  not  escape  the  public,  that 
this  was  a  mode  of  tertnioating  life  far  more 


likely  to  be  inflicted  by  the  lands  of  others 
than  those  of  the  deceased  himself.  Sur- 
geons were  found,  but  men,  it  is  said,  of 
small  reputation,  to  sign  a  report  upon  the 
stale  of  the  body,  in  which  they  affirm  that 
Pichegru  had  died  by  suicide  ;  yet  as  he 
must  have  lost  animation  and  sense  so  soon 
as  he  had  twisted  the  stick  to  the  point  of 
strangulation,  it  seems  strange  he  should 
not  have  then  unclosed  his  grasp  on  the  fa- 
tal tourniquet,  which  he  used  as  the  means 
of  self-destruction.  In  that  case  the  pres- 
sure must  have  relaxed,  and  the  fatal  pur- 
pose have  remained  unaccomplished.  No 
human  eye  could  see  into  the  dark  recesses 
of  a  state  prison,  but  there  were  not  want- 
ing many  who  entertained  a  total  disbelief 
of  Pichegru's  suicide.  It  was  argued  that 
the  First  Consul  did  not  dare  to  bring  before 
a  public  tribunal,  and  subject  to  a  personal 
interrogatory,  a  man  of  Pichegru's  boldness 
and  presence  of  mind — it  was  said  also,  that 
his  evidence  would  have  been  decisively 
favourable  to  Moreau — that  the  citizens  of 
Paris  were  many  of  them  attached  to  Pich- 
egru's person — that  the  soldiers  had  not  for- 
gotten his  military  fame — and,  finally,  it 
was  reported,  that  in  consideration  of  these 
circumstances,  it  was  judged  most  expedi- 
ent to  take  away  his  life  in  prison.  Public 
rumour  went  so  far  as  to  name,  as  the 
agents  in  the  crime,  four  of  those  Mame- 
lukes, of  whom  Buonaparte  had  brought  a 
small  party  from  Egypt,  and  whom  he  used 
to  have  about  his  person  as  matter  of  parade. 
This  last  assertion  had  a  strong  irapreseion 
on  the  multitude,  who  are  accustomed  to 
think,  and  love  to  talk,  about  the  mutes 
and  bowstrings  of  Eastern  despotism.  But 
with  well-informed  persons,  its  improbabil- 
ity threw  some  discredit  on  the  whole  ac- 
cusation. The  state  prisons  of  France  must 
have  furnished  from  their  officials  enough 
of  men  as  relentless  and  dexterous  in  such 
a  commission  as  those  Eastern  strangers 
whose  unwonted  appearance  in  these 
gloomy  regions  must  have  at  once  shown  a 
fatal  purpose,  and  enabled  every  one  to 
trace  it  to  Buonaparte. 

A  subsequent  catastrophe,  of  nearly  the 
same  kind,  increased  by  its  coincidence 
the  dark  suspicions  which  arose  out  of 
the  circumstances  attending  the  death  ot' 
Pichegru. 

Captain  Wright,  from  whose  vessel  Pich- 
egru and  his  companions  had  disembarked 
on  the  French  coast,  had  become,  as  we 
have  said,  a  prisoner  of  war,  his  ship  being 
captured  by  one  of  much  superior  force,  and 
after  a  most  desperate  defence.  Under 
pretext  that  his  evidence  was  necessary  to 
the  conviction  of  Pichegru  and  Georges,  he 
was  brought  to  Paris,  and  lodged  a  close 
prisoner  in  tlie  Temple.  It  must  also  be 
mentioned,  that  Captain  Wright  had  been 
an  officer  under  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  and  that 
the  mind  of  Buonaparte  was  tenaciously 
retentive  of  animosity  against  those  who 
aided  to  withstand  a  darling  purpose,  or 
diminish  and  obscure  the  military  renown, 
which  was  yet  more  dear  to  him.  The 
treatment  of  Captain  Wright  was — must 
have    been  severe,    even   if  it  extendec. 


396 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.XLVI. 


DO  farther  than  solitary  imprisonment ;  but 
reports  went  abroad,  that  torture  was  em- 
ployed to  bring  the  gallant  seaman  to  such 
confessions  as  might  suit  the  purposes  of 
the  French  government.  This  belief  be- 
came very  general,  when  it  was  heard  that 
Wright,  like  Pichegru,  wis  found  dead  in 
his  apartment,  with  his  throat  cut  from  ear 
to  ear,  the  result,  according  to  the  account 
given  by  government,  of  his  own  impa- 
tience and  despair.  This  official  account 
of  the  second-suicide  committed  by  a  state 
prisoner,  augmented  and  confirmed  the 
opinions  entertained  concerning  the  death 
of  Pichegru,  which  it  so  closely  resembled. 
The  unfortunate  Captain  Wright  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  sacrificed,  partly  per- 
haps to  Buonaparte's  sentiments  of  petty 
vengeance,  but  chiefly  to  conceal,  within 
the  walls  of  the  Temple,  the  evidence  which 
his  person  would  have  exhibited  in  a  public 
court  of  justice,  of  the  dark,  and  cruel  prac- 
tices by  which  confession  was  sometimes 
eitorted. 

Buonaparte  always  alleged  his  total  igno- 
rance concerning  the  fate  of  Pichegru  and 
Wright,  and  affirmed  upon  all  occasions, 
that  they  perished,  so  far  as  he  knew,  by 
their  own  hands,  and  not  by  those  of  assas- 
sins. No  proof  has  ever  been  produced  to 
contradict  his  assertion  ;  and  so  far  as  he 
is  inculpated  upon  these  heads,  his  crime 
can  be  only  matter  of  strong  suspicion.  But 
it  was  singular  that  this  rage  for  suicide 
should  have  thus  infected  the  state  prisons 
of  Paris,  and  that  both  these  men,  deter- 
mined enemies  of  the  Emperor,  should 
have  adopted  the  resolution  of  putting 
themselves  to  death,  just  when  that  event 
was  most  convenient  to  their  oppressor. 
Above  all,  it  must  be  confessed,  that,  by 
his  conduct  towards  the  Duke  d'Enghien, 
Buonaparte  had  lost  that  fairness  of  charac- 
ter to  which  he  might  otherwise  have  ap- 
pealed, as  in  itself  an  answer  to  the  pre- 
sumptions formed  against  him.  The  man 
v/ho,  under  pretext  of  state  necessity,  ven- 
tured on  such  an  open  violation  of  the  laws 
of  justice,  ought  not  to  complain  if  he  is 
judged  capable,  in  every  case  of  su'spicion. 
of  sacrificing  the  rights  of  humanity  to  hi.s 
passions  or  his  interest.  He  himself  has  af- 
firmed, that  Wright  died  long  before  it  was 
sinnounced  to  the  public,  but  has  given  no 
reason  why  silence  was  preserved  witli  re- 
spect to  the  event.  The  Duke  de  Rovigo, 
also  denying  all  knowledge  of  Wright's 
death,  acknowledges  that  it  was  a  dark  and 
mysterious  subject,  and  intimates  his  belief 
that  Fouch6  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  tra- 
gedy. In  Fouche's  real  or  pretended  Me- 
moirs, the  subject  is  not  mentioned.  We 
leave,  in  the  obscurity  in  whic.'i  we  found 
it,  a  dreadful  tale,  of  which  the  truth  can- 
not, in  all  probability,  be  known,  until  the 
•ecrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open. 

Rid  of  Pichegru,  by  his  own  hand  or  his 
jailor's,  Buonaparte's  government  was  now 
left  to  deal  with  Georges  and  his  comrades, 
as  well  as  with  Moreau.  With  the  first  it 
was  an  easy  task,  for  the  Chouan  chief 
retained,  in  the  court  of  criminal  justice 
J-veforo   which  he  was  conveyed,  the  same 


fearless  tone  of  defiance  which  he  had  dis- 
played from  the  beginning.  He  acknowl- 
edged that  he  came  to  Paris  for  the  sake  of 
making  war  personally  on  Napoleon,  and 
seemed  only  to  regret  his  captivity,  as  it 
had  disconcerted  his  enterprise.  He  treat- 
ed the  judges  with  cool  contempt,  and 
amused  himself  by  calling  Thuriot,  who 
conducted  the  process,  and  who  had  been 
an  old  Jacobin,  by  the  name  of  Monsieur 
Tue-Roi.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining sentence  of  death  against  Georges 
and  nineteen  of  his  associates ;  amongst 
whom  was  Armand  de  Polignac,  for  whose 
life  his  brother  aiTectionately  tendered  his 
own.  Armand  de  Polignac,  however,  with 
seven  others,  were  pardoned  by  Buona- 
parte ;  or  rather  banishment  in  some  cases, 
and  imprisonment  in  others,  were  substi- 
tuted for  a  capital  punishment.  Georges 
and  the  rest  were  executed,  and  died  with 
the  most  determined  firmness. 

The  discovery  and  suppressioa  of  this 
conspiracy  seems  to  have  produced,  in  a 
great  degree,  the  effects  expected  by  Buon- 
aparte. The  Royal  party  became  silent  and 
submissive,  and,  but  that  their  aversion  to 
the  reign  of  Napoleon  showed  itself  in  lam- 
poons, satires,  and  witticisms,  which  were 
circulated  in  their  evening  parties,  it  could 
hardly  have  been  known  to  exist.  Offers 
were  made  to  Buonaparte  to  rid  him  of  the 
remaining  Bourbons,  in  consideration  of  a 
large  sum  of  money  ;  but  with  better  judg- 
ment than  had  dictated  his  conduct  of  late, 
he  rejected  the  proposal.  His  interest,  he 
was  now  convinced,  would  be  better  con- 
sulted by  a  line  of  policy  which  should 
reduce  the  exiled  family  to  a  state  of  insig- 
nificance, than  by  any  rash  and  violent 
proceedings  which  must  necessarily  draw 
men's  attention,  and,  in  doing  so,  were 
likely  to  interest  them  in  behalf  of  the  suf- 
ferers, and  animate  them  against  their  pow- 
erful oppressor.  With  this  purpose,  the 
names  of  the  exiled  family  were,  shortly 
after  this  period,  carefully  suppressed  in  all 
periodical  publications,  and,  with  one  or 
two  exceptions,  little  allusion  to  their  exis- 
tence can  be  traced  in  the  pages  of  the  offi- 
cial journal  of  France;  and  unquestiona- 
bly, the  policy  was  wisely  adopted  towards 
a  people  so  light,  and  animated  so  intensely 
with  the  interest  of  the  moment,  as  the 
French,  to  whom  the  present  is  a  great 
deal,  the  future  much  less,  and  the  past 
nothing  at  all. 

Though  Georges's  part  of  the  conspiracy 
was  disposed  of  tlius  easily,  the  trial  of 
Moreau  involved  a  much  more  dangerous 
task.  It  was  found  impossible  to  procure 
evidence  against  him,  beyond  his  own  ad- 
mission that  he  had  seen  Pichegru  twice  ; 
and  this  admission  was  coupled  with  a  pos- 
itive denial  that  he  had  engaged  to  be  par- 
ticipant in  his  schemes.  A  majority  of  the 
judges  seemed  disposed  to  acquit  him  en- 
tirely, but  were  cautioned  by  the  president 
Hemart.  that,  by  doing  so,  they  would  force 
the  government  upon  violent  measures. 
Adopting  this  hint,  and  willing  to  compro- 
mise matters,  they  declared  Moreau  guilty, 
but  not  to  the  extent  of  a  capital  criate- 


Chop.  XL  VII.]  LITE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


397 


He  was  subjected  to  imprisonment  for  two 
years  ;  but  the  soldiers  continuing  to  inte- 
rest themselves  in  his  fate,  Fouche,  who 
about  this  time  was  restored  to  the  admin- 
istration of  police,  interceded  warmly  in 
his  favour,  and  seconded  the  applications 
of  Madame  RIoreau,  for  a  commutation  of 
Iier  husband's  sentence.  His  doom  of  im- 
prisonment was  therefore  exchanged  for 
Jiat  of  exile  ;  a  mode  of  punishment  safer 
"or  Moreau,  considering  the  late  incidents 
.'n  the  prisons  of  state  ;  and  more  advantage- 
ous for  Buonaparte,  as  removing  entirely 


from  the  thoughts  of  the  republican  party, 
and  of  the  soldiers,  a  leader,  whose  military 
talents  brooked  comparison  with  his  own, 
and  to  whom  the  public  eye  would  natural- 
ly be  turned  when  any  cause  of  discontent 
with  their  present  government  might  in- 
cline them  to  look  elsewhere.  Buonaparte 
thus  escaped  from  the  conseauences  of  this 
alarming  conspiracy ;  and,  (ike  a  patient 
whose  disease  is  brought  to  a  favourable 
crisis  by  the  breaking  of  an  imposthume,  he 
attained  additional  strength  by  the  discom- 
fiture of  those  secret  enemies. 


CHAP.  XLVII. 

General  indignation  of  Europe  in  consequence  of  the  Murder  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien. — 
Russia  complains  to  Talleyrand  of  the  violation  of  Baden  ;  and,  along  \cith  Sweden, 
remonstrates  in  a  Note  laid  before  the  German  Diet — but  without  effect. — Charges 
brought  by  Buonaparte  against  Mr.  Drake,  and  Mr.  Spencer  Smith — who  are  accord- 
ingly dismissed  from  the  Courts  of  Stutgard  and  Munich. — Seizure — imprisonment — 
and  dismissal — of  Sir  George  Rumbold.  the  British  Envoy  at  Lower  Saxony. — 
Treachery  attempted  against  Lord  Elgin,  by  the  Agents  of  Buonaparte — Details — De- 
feated by  the  exemplary  Prudence  of  that  Xobleman. —  These  Charges  brought  before 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  peremptorily  denied  by  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 


Buonaparte,  as  we  have  seen,  gained  a 
great  accession  of  power  by  the  event  of 
Pichegru's  conspiracy.  But  this  was  in 
some  measure  counterbalanced  by  the  dim- 
inution of  character  which  attached  to  the 
kidnapping  and  murdering  the  Duke  d'Eng- 
hien, and  by  the  foul  suspicions  arising  from 
the  mysterious  fate  of  Pichegru  and  Wright. 
He  possessed  no  longer  the  respect  which 
might  be  claimed  by  a  victor  and  legislator, 
but  had  distinctly  shown  that  either  the 
sudden  tempest  of  ungoverned  passion,  or 
the  rankling  feelings  of  personal  hatred, 
could  induce  him  to  take  the  readiest  means 
of  wreaking  the  basest,  as  well  as  the  blood- 
iest vengeance.  Deep  indignation  was  felt 
through  every  country  on  the  Continent, 
though  Russia  and  Sweden  alone  ventured 
to  express  their  dissatisfaction  with  a  pro- 
ceeding so  contrary  to  the  law  of  nations. 
The  court  of  St.  Petersburgh  went  into 
state  mourning  for  the  Duke  d'Enghien, 
and  while  the  Russian  minister  at  Paris 
presented  a  note  to  M.  Talleyrand,  com- 
plaining of  the  violation  of  the  Duke  of  Ba- 
den's territory,  the  Russian  resident  at  Ra- 
tisbon  was  instructed  to  lay  before  the  Diet 
of  the  Empire  a  remonstrance  to  the  same 
oflfect.  The  Swedish  minister  did  the  same. 
The  answer  of  the  French  minister  was 
hostile  and  offensive.  He  treated  with 
scorn  the  pretensions  of  Russia  to  interfere 
in  the  affairs  of  France  and  Germany,  and 
accused  that  power  of  being  desirous  to  re- 
kindle the  Hames  of  war  in  Europe.  This 
correspondence  tended  greatly  to  inflame 
the  discontents  already  subsisting  betwixt 
France  and  Russia,  and  was  one  main  cause 
'■>f  again  engaging  France  in  war  with  that 
powerful  enemy. 

The  Russian  and  Swedish  remonstrance 
to  the  Diet  produced  no  effect.  Austria 
was  too  much  depressed,  Prussia  was  too 
closely  leagued  with  France,  to  he  influ- 
anced  by  it ;   and  there  were  none  of  the 


smaller  powers  who  could  be  expetted  to 
provoke  the  displeasure  of  the  First  Con- 
sul, by  seconding  the  complaint  of  the  vio- 
lation of  the  territory  of  Baden.  The  blood 
of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  was  not,  however, 
destined  to  sleep  unavenged  in  his  obscure 
dwelling.  The  Duke  of  Baden  himself  re- 
quested the  matter  might  be  left  to  silence 
and  oblivion ;  but  many  of  the  German  po- 
tentates t'elt  as  men,  what  they  dared  not, 
in  their  hour  of  weakness,  resent  as  princes. 
It  was  a  topic  repeatedly  and  efficaciously 
resumed  whenever  an  opportunity  of  resist- 
ance against  the  universal  conqueror  pre- 
sented itself;  and  the  perfidy  and  cruelty 
of  the  whole  transaction  continued  to  ani- 
mate new  enemies  against  him,  until,  in  the 
issue,  they  became  strong  enough  to  work 
his  overthrow.  From  the  various  and  in- 
consistent pleas  which  Buonaparte  set  up 
in  defence  of  his  conduct,  now  attempting 
to  justify,  now  to  apologize  for,  now  to 
throw  on  others,  a  crime  which  he  alone 
had  means  and  interest  to  commit,  it  is  be- 
lieved that  he  felt  the  death  of  the  Duke 
d'Enghien  to  be  the  most  reprehensible 
as  well  as  the  most  impolitic  act  in  hj« 
life. 

Already  aware  of  the  unpopularity  which 
-.tached  to  his  late  cruel  proceedings,  Buo- 
naparte became  desirous  to  counterbalance 
it  by  filling  the  public  mind  with  a  terrific 
idea  of  the  schemes  of  England,  which,  in 
framing  and  encouraging  attempts  upon  hJB 
life,  drove  him  to  those  unusual  and  extra- 
ordinary acts,  which  he  desired  to  represent 
as  measures  of  retaliation.  Singular  ma- 
ncEuvres  were  resorted  to  for  the  purpose 
of  confirming  the  opinions  which  he  was  de- 
sirous to  impress  upon  the  world.  The  im- 
prudence— so  at  least  it  neenis — of  Mr. 
Drake,  British  resident  at  Munich,  enabled 
Buonaparte  to  make  his  charges  against 
England  with  some  speciousness.  Thi« 
agent  of  the  British  government  had  miiw 


398 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEO]N  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XLVII. 


tained  a  secret  correspondence  with  a  per- 
«on  of  infamous  character,  called  Mehee  de 
la  Touche,  who,  affecting  the  sentiments  of 
a  Royalist  and  enemy  of  Buonaparte,  was 
in  fact  employed  by  the  First  Consul  to  tre- 
pan Mr.  Drake  into  expressions  which  might 
implicate  the  English  ministers,  his  con- 
•tituents,  and  furnish  grounds  for  the  ac- 
-cusations  which  Buonaparte  made  against 
them.  It  certainly  appears  that  Mr.  Drake 
endeavoured,  by  the  medium  of  De  la 
Touche,  to  contrive  the  means  of  effecting 
an  insurrection  of  the  Royalists,  or  other 
enemies  of  Buonaparte,  with  whom  his 
country  was  then  at  war;  and  in  doing  so, 
he  acted  according  to  the  practice  of  all 
belligerent  powers,  who,  on  all  occasions, 
are  desirous  to  maintain  a  communication 
with  such  malcontents  as  may  e.iist  in  the 
hostile  nation.  But,  unless  by  the  greatest 
distortion  of  phrase  and  expression,  there 
arises  out  of  the  letters  not  the  slightest 
room  to  believe  that  Mr.  Drake  encouraged 
the  party  with  whom  he  supposed  himself 
to  be  in  correspondence,  to  proceed  by  the 
mode  of  assassination,  or  any  others  than 
are  compatible  with  the  law  of  nations,  and 
acknowledged  by  civilized  governments. 
The  error  of  Mr.  Drake  seems  to  have  been, 
that  he  was  not  sufficiently  cautious  re- 
specting the  sincerity  of  the  person  with 
whom  he  maintained  his  intercourse.  Mr. 
Spencer  Smith,  the  British  envoy  at  Stut- 
gard,  was  engaged  in  a  similar  intrigue, 
which  appears  also  to  have  been  a  snare 
spread  for  him  by  the  French  government. 

Buonaparte  failed  not  to  make  the  utmost 
use  of  these  pretended  discoveries,  which 
were  promulgated  with  great  form  by  Reg- 
nier,  who  held  the  office  of  Grand  Judge. 
He  invoked  the  faith  of  nations,  as  if  the 
Duke  d'Enghien  had  been  still  residing  in 
peaceable  neutrality  at  Ettenheim,  and  es- 
cladmed  against  assassination,  as  if  his  state 
dungeons  could  not  have  whispered  of  the 
death  of  Pichegru.  The  complaisant  sove- 
reigns of  Munich  and  Stutgard  readily  or- 
dered Smith  and  Dralve  to  leave  their 
courts  ;  and  the  latter  was  forced  to  depart 
on  foot,  and  by  cross-roads,  to  avoid  being 
kidnapped  by  the  French  gens  d'arraes. 

The  fate  which  Mr.  Drake  dreaded,  and 
perhaps  narrowly  escaped,  actually  befell 
Sir  George  Rumbold,  resident  at  the  free 
German  city  of  Hamburgh,  in  the  capacity 
of  his  British  Alajesty's  envoy  to  the  Circle 
of  Lower  Saxony.  On  the  night  of  the  2oth 
October,  he  was  seized,  in  violation  of  the 
rights  attached  by  the  law  of  nations  to  the 
persons  of  ambassadors,  as  well  as  to  the 
territories  of  neutral  countries,  by  a  party 
of  the  French  troops,  who  crossed  the  Elbe 
for  that  purpose.  The  envoy,  with  his  pa- 
pers, was  then  transferred  to  Paris  in  the 
capacity  of  a  close  prisoner,  and  thrown 
into  the  fatal  Temple.  Tl.e  utmost  anxie- 
ty was  excited  even  amongst  Buonaparte's 
ministers,  lest  th's  imprisonment  should  be 
intended  as  a  prelude  to  farther  violence  ; 
and  both  Fouchc  and  Talleyrand  exerted 
what  influence  they  possessed  over  the  mind 
of  Napoleon,  to  prevent  the  proceedings 
which  were  to  be  apprehended.    The  King 


of  Prussia  also  extended  his  powerful  in- 
terposition ;  and  the  result  was,  that  Sir 
George  Rumbold,  after  two  days'  imprison- 
ment, was  dismissed  to  England,  on  giving 
liis  parole  not  to  return  to  Hamburgh.  It 
seems  probable,  although  the  Moniteur  calls 
this  gentleman  the  worthy  associate  of 
Drake  and  Spencer  Smith,  and  speaks  of 
discoveries  amongst  his  papers  which  were 
to  enlighten  the  public  on  the  policy  of 
England,  that  nothing  precise  was  sdleg- 
ed  against  him,  even  to  palliate  the  outrage 
which  the  French  ruler  had  committed. 

The  tenor  of  Buonaparte's  conduct  in  an- 
other instance,  towards  a  British  nobleman 
of  distinction,  though  his  scheme  was  ren- 
dered abortive  by  the  sagacity  of  the  noble 
individual  against  whom  it  was  directed,  ia 
a  striking  illustration  of  the  species  of  in- 
trigue practised  by  the  French  police,  and 
enables  us  to  form  a  correct  judgment  of 
the  kind  of  evidence  upon  which  Buona- 
parte brought  forward  his  calumnious  accu- 
sation against  Britain  and  her  subjects. 

The  Earl  of  Elgin,  lately  ambassador  of 
Great  Britain  at  the  Porte,  had,  contrary  to 
the  usage  among  civilized  nations,  been 
seized  upon  with  his  family  as  he  passed 
through  the  French  territory  ;  and,  during 
the  period  of  which  we  arc  treating,  ha 
was  residing  upon  his  parole  near  Pau,  in 
the  south  of  France,,  as  one  of  the  Detenu*. 
Shortly  after  the  arrest  of  Moreau,  Georges, 
&c.  an  order  arrived  for  committing  hi» 
lordship  to  close  custody,  in  reprisal,  it  waa 
said,  of  severities  exercised  in  England  on 
the  French  General  Boyer.  The  truth  was, 
that  the  affair  of  General  Boyer  had  beea 
satisfactorily  explained  to  the  French  go»- 
ernment.  In  the  Parisian  papers,  on  the 
contrary,  his  lordship's  imprisonment  wa* 
ascribed  to  barbarities  which  he  was  said  to 
have  instigated  against  the  French  prison- 
ers of  war  in  Turkey — a  charge  totally 
without  foundation.  Lord  Elgin  was,  how- 
ever, transferred  to  the  strong  castle  of 
Lourdes,  situated  on  the  descent  of  the 
Pyrenees,  where  the  commandant  received 
him,  though  a  familiar  acquaintance,  with 
the  reserve  and  coldness  of  an  entire  stran- 
ger. Attempts  were  made  by  this  gentle- 
man and  his  lieutenant  to  exasperate  the 
feelings  which  must  naturally  agitate  the 
mind  of  a  man  torn  from  the  bosom  of  hia 
family,  and  committed  to  close  custody  itt 
a  remote  fortress,  where  the  accommoda-. 
tion  was  as  miserable  as  the  castle  itself 
was  gloomy,  strong,  and  ominously  seclud-. 
ed  from  the  world.  They  failed,  however, 
in  extracting  from  their  prisoner  any  ex- 
pressions of  violence  or  impatience,  how- 
ever warranted  by  the  usage  to  which  be 
was  subjected. 

After  a  few  days'  confinement,  a  serjeant 
of  the  guard  delivered  to  Lord  Elgin  a  let- 
ter, the  writer  of  which  informed  him,  that, 
being  his  fellow-prisoner,  and  confined  in  a 
secluded  dungeon,  he  regretted  he  could, 
not  wait  on  his  lordship,  but  that  when  he 
walked  in  the  court-yard,  he  could  have 
conversation  with  him  at  the  window  of 
his  room.  Justly  suspecting  this  communi- 
cation, Lord   Elgin   destroyed  the  letter;- 


Chap.  XL  VIl] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


399 


and  while  he  gave  the  serjeant  a  louis  d'or, 
lold  him,  that  if  he  or  any  of  hia  comrades 
should  again  bring  him  any  secret  letter  or 
message,  he  would  inform  the  commandant 
of  the  circumstance.  Shortly  afterwards, 
the  commandant  of  the  fortress,  in  conver- 
sation with  Lord  Elgin,  spoke  of  the  prison- 
er in  question  as  a  person  whose  health  was 
suffering  for  want  of  exercise  ;  and  next  day 
his  lordship  saw  the  individual  walking  in 
the  court-yard  before  his  window.  He  man- 
ifested every  disposition  to  engage  his  lord- 
ship in  conversation,  which  Lord  Elgin  suc- 
cessfully avoided. 

A  few  weeks  afterwards,  and  not  till  he 
had  been  subjected  to  several  acts  of  se- 
verity and  vexation.  Lord  Elgin  was  permit- 
ted to  return  to  Pau.  But  he  was  not  yet 
extricated  from  the  nets  in  which  it  was  the 
fraudulent  policy  of  the  French  government 
to  involve  him.  The  female,  who  actea  as 
porter  to  his  lordship's  lodgings,  one  morn- 
ing presented  him  with  a  packet,  which  she 
said  had  been  left  by  a  woman  from  the 
country,  who  was  to  call  for  an  answer. 
With  the  same  prudence  which  distinguish- 
ed his  conduct  at  Lourdes,  Lord  Elgin  de- 
tained the  portress  in  the  apartment,  and 
found  that  the  letter  was  from  the  state 
prisoner  already  mentioned ;  that  it  contain- 
ed an  account  of  his  being  imprisoned  for 
an  attempt  to  burn  the  French  fleet ;  and 
detailed  his  plan  as  one  which  he  had  still 
in  Tiew,  and  which  he  held  out  in  the  col- 
ours most  likely,  as  he  judged,  to  interest 
an  Englishman.  The  packet  also  covered 
letters  to  the  Compte  d'Artois  and  other 
foreigners  of  distinction,  which  Lord  Elgin 
was  requested  to  forward  with  his  best  con- 
»enience.  Lord  Elgin  thrust  the  letters  in- 
to the  fire  in  presence  of  the  portress,  and 
kept  her  in  the  room  till  they  were  entire- 
ly consumed  ;  explaining  to  her  at  the  same 
time,  that  such  letters  to  him  as  might  be 
delivered  by  any  other  channel  than  the  or- 
dinary post,  should  be  at  once  sent  to  the 
governor  of  the  town.  His  lordship  judged 
It  his  farther  duty  to  mention  to  the  prefect 
the  conspiracy  detailed  in  the  letter,  under 
the  condition,  however,  that  no  steps  should 
be  taken  in  consequence,  unless  the  affair  ! 
became  known  from  some  other  quarter. 

.Some  short  time  after  these  transactions,  i 
and  when  Buonaparte  was  appointed  to  as-  ■ 
sume  the  imperial  crown,  (at  which  period 
there  was  hope  of  a  general  act  of  grace,  i 
which  should  empty  the  prisons,)  Lord  El- 
gin's fellow-captive  at  Lourdes,   being,  it  | 
seems,  a  real  prisoner,  as  well  as  a  spy,  in  j 
hopes  of  meriting  a  share  in  this  measure 
of  clemency,  made  a  full  confession  of  all  ; 
which    he   had  done   or    designed    to   do  ! 
agaiiist  Napoleon's    interest     Lord   Elgin 
was  naturally  interested  in  this  confession,  ■ 
which  appeared  in  the  Moniteur,  and  was  i 
a  good  deal  surprised  to  see  that  a  detail, 
otherwise  minute,  bore  no  reference  to,  or 
correspondence  regarding,  the  plan  of  burn- 
ing  the   Brest  fleet.     He  lost  no   time  in  1 
writing  an  account  of  the   particulars   we  \ 
have    mentioned,  to  a  friend  at  Paris,  by  i 
whom  they  were  communicated  to  Mon- ' 
•iaur   Fargues,  senator  of  tlie  district  uf 


Beam,  whom  these  plots  particularly  inter- 
ested as  having  his  senatorie  for  their  scene. 
When  Lord  Elgin's  letter  was  put  into  hia 
hand,  the  senator  changed  countenance, 
and  presently  after  expressed  his  high  con- 
gratulation at  what  he  called  Lord  Elgin's 
providential  escape.  He  then  intimated, 
with  anxious  hesitation,  that  the  whole  waa 
a  plot  to  entrap  Lord  Elgin  ;  that  the  let- 
ters were  written  at  Paris,  and  sent  down  to 
Beam  by  a  confidential  agent,  with  the  full 
expectation  that  they  would  be  found  in  hi* 
lordship's  possession.  This  was  confirmed 
by  the  commandant  of  Lourdes,  with  whom 
Lord  Elgin  had  afterwards  an  unreserved 
communication,  in  which  he  laid  aside  the 
jailor,  and  resumed  the  behaviour  of  a. 
gentleman.  He  imputed  Lord  Elgin's  lib- 
eration to  the  favourable  report  which  he 
himself  and  his  lieutenant  had  made  of  the 
calm  and  dignified  manner  in  which  bis 
lordship  had  withstood  the  artifices  which 
they  had  been  directed  to  use,  with  a  view 
of  working  on  his  feelings,  and  leading  him 
into  some  intemperance  of  expression 
against  France  or  her  ruler;  which  might 
have  furnished  a  pretext  for  treating  him 
with  severity,  and  for  implicating  the  Brit- 
ish government  in  the  imprudence  of  one 
of  her  nobles,  invested  with  a  diplomatic 
character.* 

The  above  narrative  forms  a  singularly  lu- 
minous commentary  on  the  practices  im- 
puted to  Messrs.  Drake  and  Spencer,  and 
subsequently  to  Sir  George  Rumbold  ;  nor 
is  it  a  less  striking  illustration  of  the  deten- 
tion of  the  unfortunate  Captain  Wright. 
With  one  iota  less  of  prudence  and  pres- 
ence of  mind.  Lord  El;_'iri  must  have  been 
entangled  in  the  snare  which  was  so  treach- 
erously spread  for  him.  Had  he  even  engag- 
ed in  ten  minutes  conversation  with  the 
villainous  spy  and  incendiary,  it  would  have 
been  in  the  power  of  such  a  wretch  to  rep 
resent  the  import  after  his  own  pleasure. 
Or  had  his  lordship  retained  the  packet  of 
letters  even  for  half  an  hour  in  his  posses- 
sion, which  he  might  have  most  innocently 
done,  he  would  probably  have  been  seized 
with  them  upon  his  person  ;  and  it  must  in 
that  case  have  been  impossible  for  him 
to  repel  such  accusations,  as  Buonaparte 
would  have  no  doubt  founded  on  a  circum- 
stance so  suspicious 

While  Napoleon  used  such  perfidious 
means,  in  order  to  attach  if  possible,  to  a 
British  ambassador  of  such  distinguished 
rank,  the  charge  of  carrying  on  intrigues 
against  his  person,  the  British  ministers,  in 
a  tone  the  most  manly  and  dignified,  dis- 
claimed the  degrading  charges  which  had 
been  circulated  agoinst  them  through  Eu- 
rope. When  the  topic  Nvas  introduced  by 
Lord  Morpeth  into  the  British  House  of 
Commons,  by  a  motion  respecting  the  cor- 
respondence of  Drake,  the  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer  replied,  "  I  thank  the  noble 
lord  for  giving  me  an  opportunity  to  repel, 
openly  and  courageously,  one  of  the  most 


•  This  account  is  abstracted  from  the  full  de- 
tnil^  which  Lord  Elgin  did  us  th«  honour  to  son* 
icuiiicale  in  au  authonticalod  maouscript. 


100 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.       [Chap.  XL  VIII. 


gross  and  most  atrocious  calumnies  ever 
fabricated  in  one  civilized  nation  to  the 
prejudice  of  another.  I  affirm,  that  no  pow- 
er has  been  given,  no  instruction  has  been 
sent,  by  this  government  to  any  individual, 
to  act  in  a  manner  contrary  to  the  law  of  na- 
tions. I  again  alErm,  as  well  in  my  own  name 
as  in  that  of  my  colleagues,  that  we  have 
not  authorized  any  human  being  to  conduct 
himself  in  a  manner  contrary  to  the  lionour 
of  this  country,  or  the  dictates  of  humanity." 


This  explicit  declaration,  made  by  Brit- 
ish ministers  in  a  situation  where  detected 
falsehood  would  have  proved  dangerous  to 
those  by  whom  it  was  practised,  is  to  be 
placed  against  the  garbled  correspondence 
of  which  tlie  French  possessed  themselves, 
by  means  violently  subversive  of  the  law 
of  nations;  and  which  correspondence  was 
the  result  of  intrigues  that  would  never 
have  existed  but  for  the  treacherous  sugges- 
tions of  their  own  agents. 


CHAP.  XI.VIII. 

Napoleon  meditates  a  change  of  title  from  Chief  Consul  to  Emperor. — A  Motion  to  thit 
purpose  brought  forward  inthe  Tribunate — Opposed  by  Carnot — Adopted  by  the  Tri- 
bunate and  Senate. —  Outline  of  the  A'ew  Si'stcm — Coldly  received  by  the  People. — 
Napoleon  visits  Boulogne,  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  the  Frontiers  of  Germany,  where  he 
is  received  with  respect. —  The  Coronation. — Pius  VII.  is  summoned  from  Rome  to 
perform  the  Ceremony  at  Paris. — Details. — Reflections. — Changes  that  took  place  in 
Italy. — Napoleon  appointed  Sovereign  of  Italy,  and  Crowned  at  Milan. — Genoa  an- 
nexed to  France. 


The  time  seemed  now  propitious  for  Buo- 
naparte to  make  the  last  remaining  move- 
ment in  the  great  game,  which  he  had 
hitherto  played  with  equal  skill,  boldness, 
and  success.  The  opposing  factions  of  the 
state  lay  in  a  great  measure  prostrate  before 
him.  Tlie  death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  and 
of  Pichegru  had  intimidated  the  Royalists, 
while  the  exile  of  Moreau  had  left  the  Re- 
publicans without  a  leader. 

These  events,  while  they  greatly  injured 
Buonaparte's  character  as  a  man,  extended, 
in  a  like  proportion,  the  idea  of  his  power, 
and  of  his  determination  to  employ  it  to  the 
utmost  extremity  against  whosoever  might 
oppose  him.  This  moment,  therefore,  of 
general  submission  and  intimidation,  was 
the  fittest  to  be  used  for  transmuting  the 
military  baton  of  the  First  Consul  into  a 
sceptre,  resembling  those  of  the  ancient  and 
established  sovereignties  of  Europe  ;  and  it 
only  remained,  for  one  who  could  now  dis- 
pose of  France  as  he  listed,  to  dictate  the 
form  and  fashion  of  the  new  emblem  of  his 
sway. 

The  title  of  King  most  obviously  pre- 
sented itself;  but  it  was  connected  with 
the  claims  of  the  Bourbons,  which  it  was 
not  Buonaparte's  policy  to  recall  to  remem- 
brance. That  of  Emperor  implied  a  yet 
higher  power  of  sovereignty,  and  there  ex- 
isted no  competitor'  who  could  challenge 
a  claim  to  it.  It  was  a  novelty  also,  and 
flattered  the  French  love  of  change  ;  and 
though,  in  fact,  the  establishment  of  an 
empire  w.as  inconsistent  with  the  various 
oaths  taken  against  royalty,  it  was  not,  in 
terms,  so  directly  contradictory  to  them. 
As  the  re-cstablishmeiit  of  a  kingdom,  so 
far  it  was  agreeable  to  those  who  might 
seek,  not  indeed  how  to  keep  their  vows, 
but  how  to  elude,  in  words  at  least,  the 
charge  of  having  broken  them.  To  Napo- 
leon's ov/n  ear,  the  word  King  might  sound 
as  if  it  restricted  his  power  within  the  lim- 
its of  the  ancient  kingdom  ;  while  that  of 
Emperor  might  comprise  dominions  equal 


to  the  wide  sv.-eep  of  ancient  Rome  her- 
self, and  the  bounds  of  the  habitable  earth 
alone  could  be  considered  as  circumscrib- 
ing their  extent. 

"The  main  body  of  the  nation  being  pas- 
sive or  intimidated,  there  was  no  occasion 
to  stand  upon  much  ceremony  with  the 
constitutional  bodies,  the  members  of  whicli 
were  selected  and  paid  by  Buonaparte  him- 
self, held  their  posts  at  his  pleasure,  had 
every  species  of  advancement  to  hope  if 
they  promoted  his  schemes,  and  every  evil, 
of  which  the  least  would  be  deprivation 
of  office,  to  expect,  should  they  thwart 
him. 

On  the  30th  of  April  ISOi,  Curee,  an  ora- 
tor of  no  great  note,  (and  who  was  perhaps 
selected  on  that  very  account,  that  his  pro- 
posal might  be  disavowed  should  it  meet 
with  unexpected  opposition,)  took  the  lead 
in  this  measure,  which  was  to  destroy  the 
slight  and  nominal  remains  of  a  free  constitu- 
tion which  France  retained  under  her  pres- 
ent form  of  government.  •'  It  was  time  to 
bid  adieu,"  he  said,  "to  political  allusions. 
The  internal  tranquillity  of  France  had 
been  regained,  peace  with  foreign  states 
had  been  secured  by  victory.  The  finan- 
ces of  the  country  had  been  restored,  its 
code  of  laws  renovated  and  re-established. 
It  was  time  to  ;iscertain  the  possession  of 
these  blessings  to  the  nation  in  future,  and 
the  orator  saw  no  mode  of  doing  this,  save 
rendering  the  supreme  power  hereditary 
in  the  person  and  family  of  Napoleon,  to 
whom  France  owed  such  a  debt  of  gratitude. 
This,  he  stated,  was  the  universal  desire  of 
the  army  and  of  the  people.  He  invited 
the  Tribunate,  therefore,  to  give  effect  to 
the  general  wish,  and  hail  Napoleon  Buon- 
aparte by  the  title  of  Emperor,  as  that 
which  best  corresponded  with  the  dignity 
of  the  nation." 

The  members  of  the  Tribunate  contend- 
ed with  each  other  who  should  most  en- 
hance the  merits  of  Napoleon,  and  prove, 
in  the  most  logica'  aud  rhetorical  terms. 


Chap.  XL  VlII]        LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


401 


the  advantages  of  arbitrary  power  over  the 
various  modifications  of  popular  or  unlimit- 
ed governments.  But  one  man,  Carnot, 
was  bold  enough  to  oppose  the  full  tide  of 
sophistry  and  adulation.  This  name  is 
unhappily  to  be  read  among  the  colleagues 
of  Robespierre  in  the  Revolutionary  Com- 
mittee, as  well  as  amongst  those  who  voted 
for  the  death  of  the  misused  and  unoffend- 
ing Louis  XVI. ;  yet  his  highly  honourable 
conduct  in  the  urgent  crisis  now  under 
discussion,  shows  that  the  zeal  for  liberty 
which  led  him  into  such  excesses,  was  gen- 
uine and  sincere  ;  and  that,  in  point  of  firm- 
ness and  public  spirit,  Carnot  equalled  the 
ancient  patriots  whom  he  aspired  to  imitate. 
His  speech  was  as  temperate  and  expres- 
sive as  it  was  eloquent.  Buonaparte,  he 
admitted,  had  saved  France,  and  saved  it 
by  the  assumption  of  absolute  power ;  but 
this  he  contended  was  only  the  temporary 
consequence  of  a  violent  crisis  of  the  kind 
to  which  republics  were  subject,  and  the 
evils  of  which  could  only  be  stemmed  by  a 
remedy  equally  violent.  The  present  head 
of  the  government  was,  he  allowed,  a  dic- 
tator} but  in  the  same  sense  in  which  Ka- 
bi:>.B,  Camillus,  and  Cincinnatus,  were  so 
of  yore,  who  retired  to  the  condition  of 
private  citizens  when  they  had  accomplish- 
ed the  purpose  for  which  temporary  supre- 
macy had  been  intrusted  to  them.  The 
like  was  to  be  expected  from  Buonaparte, 
who,  on  entering  on  the  government  of  the 
state,  had  invested  it  with  Republican  forms, 
which  he  had  taken  a  solemn  oath  to  main- 
tain, and  which  it  was  the  object  of  Cu- 
ree's  motion  to  invite  him  to  violate.  He 
allowed  that  the  various  Republican  forms 
of  France  had  been  found  deficient,  in  sta- 
bility, which  he  contended  was  owing  to 
the  tempestuous  period  in  which  tV-ey  had 
been  adopted,  and  the  excited  and  irritable 
temper  of  men  fired  with  political  animosi- 
ty, and  incapable  at  the  moment  of  steady 
or  philosophical  reflection  ;  but  he  appeal- 
ed to  the  United  States  of  America,  as 
an  example  of  a  democratical  government, 
equally  wise,  vigorous,  and  permanent.  He 
admitted  the  virtues  and  talents  of  the 
present  governor  of  France,  but  contended 
that  these  attributes  could  not  be  rendered 
hereditary  along  with  the  throne.  He  re- 
minded the  Tribunate  that  Domitian  had 
been  the  son  of  the  wise  V^espasian,  Cali- 
gula of  Germanicus,  and  Commodus  of 
Marcus  Aurelius.  Again  he  asked,  wjieth- 
er  it  was  not  wronging  Buonaparte's  glory 
to  substitute  a  new  title  to  that  which  lie 
had  rendered  so  illustrious,  and  to  invite 
and  tempt  him  to  become  the  instrument 
of  destroying  the  liberties  of  the  very 
country  to  which  he  had  rendered  such  in- 
estimable services?  He  then  announced 
the  undeniable  proposition,  that  what  ser- 
vices soever  an  individunl  might  render  to 
the  state  of  which  he  was  a  member,  tliore 
were  bounds  to  public  gratitude  prescribed 
by  honour  as  well  as  reason.  If  a  citizen 
had  the  means  of  operating  the  sufeiv,  or 
restoring  the  liberty  of  his  country,  it  could 
not  be  termed  a  becoming  recompense  to 
enrrender  to  him  that  very  liberty,  the  re- 


establishment  of  which  had  been  his  owa 
work.  Or  what  glory,  he  asked,  could  ac- 
crue to  the  selfish  individual,  who  should 
claim  the  surrender  of  his  country's  inde- 
pendence in-  requital  of  his  services,  and 
desire  to  convert  the  state  which  his  tal- 
ents had  preserved  into  his  cwn  private 
patrimony  ? 

Carnot  concluded  his  manly  and  patriot- 
ic speech  by  declaring,  that  though  he  op- 
posed on  grounds  of  conscience  the  altera- 
tion of  government  which  had  been  pro- 
posed, he  would,  nevertheless,  should  it  be 
adopted  by  the  nation,  give  it  his  unlimited 
obedience.  He  kept  his  word  accordingly, 
and  retired  to  a  private  station,  in  poverty 
most  honourable  to  a  statesman  who  had 
filled  the  highest  offices  of  the  state,  and 
enjoyed  the  most  unlimited  power  of  amass- 
ing wealth. 

When  his  oration  was  concluded,  there 
was  a  contention  for  precedence  among 
the  time-serving  speakers,  who  were  each 
desirous  to  take  the  lead  in  refuting  the 
reasoning  of  Carnot.  It  would  be  tedious 
to  trace  them  through  their  sophistry.  The 
leading  argument  turned  upon  the  talents 
of  Buonaparte,  his  services  rendered  to 
France,  and  the  necessity  there  was  for  ac- 
knowledging them  by  something  like  a  pro- 
portionate act  of  national  gratitude.  Their 
eloquence  resembled  nothing  so  nearly  as 
the  pleading  of  a  wily  procuress,  who  en- 
deavours to  persuade  some  simple  maiden, 
that  the  services  rendered  to  her  by  a  lib- 
eral and  gallant  admirer,  can  only  be  re- 
warded by  the  sacrifice  of  her  honour.  The 
speaking  (for  it  could  neither  be  termed 
debate  nor  deliberation)  was  prolonged  for 
three  days,  after  which  the  motion  of  Cu- 
ree  was  adopted  by  the  Tribunate,  without 
one  negative  voice  excepting  that  of  the 
inflexible  Carnot. 

The  Senate,  to  whom  the  Tribunate  has- 
tened to  present  their  project  of  establish- 
ing despotism  under  its  own  undisguised 
title,  hastened  to  form  a  senatus  consultum, 
which  established  the  new  constitution  of 
France.  The  outline. — for  what  would  it 
serve  to  trace  the  minute  details  of  a  de- 
sign sketched  in  the  sand,  and  obliterated 
by  the  tide  of  subsequent  events, — was  as 
follows  : — 

1st,  Napoleon  Buonaparte  was  declared 
hereditary  Emperor  of  the  French  nation. 
The  empire  was  made  hereditary,  first  in 
the  male  line  of  the  Emperor's  direct  de- 
scendants. Failing  these,  Napoleon  might 
adopt  the  sons  or  grandsons  of  his  brothers, 
to  succeed  him  in  such  order  as  he  might 
point  out.  In  default  of  such  adoptive 
heirs,  Josepli  and  Louis  Buonaparte  were, 
in  succession,  declared  the  lawful  heirs 
of  the  empire.  Lucien  and  Jerome  Buon- 
aparte were  excluded  from  this  rich  inherit- 
ance, as  they  had  both  disobliged  Napoleon 
by  marrying  without  his  consent. 

2d.  The  members  of  the  Imperial  family 
were  declared  Princes  of  the  Blood,  and  by 
the  decree  of  the  Senate,  the  offices  of  Grand 
Elector,  .\rchchancellor  of  the  empire, 
Archchancellor  of  State,  High  Constable 
and  Great  Admiral  of  the  Empire,  were  ei« 


402 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XLVIU 


tablished  as  necessary  appendages  of  the 
empire.  These  dignitaries,  named  of  course 
by  the  Emperor  himself,  consisting  of  his 
relatives,  connexions,  and  most  faithful  ad- 
herents, formed  his  Grand  Council.  The 
rank  of  Marechal  of  the  Empire  was  con- 
ferred upon  seventeen  of  the  most  distin- 
guished generals,  comprehending  Jourdan, 
Augereau,  and  others,  formerly  zealous  Re- 
publicans. Duroc  was  named  Grand  Mare- 
chal of  the  Palace  ;  Caulaincourt,  Master 
of  the  Horse;  Berthier,  Grand  Huntsman, 
and  the  Compte  de  Segur,  a  nobleman  of 
the  old  court,  Master  of  Ceremonies. 

Thus  did  republican  forms,  at  length  and 
finally,  give  way  to  those  of  a  court ;  and 
that  nation,  which  no  moderate  or  rational 
degree  of  freedom  would  satisfy,  now  con- 
tentedly, or  at  least  passively,  assumed  the 
yoke  of  a  military  despot.  France,  in  1792, 
had  been  like  the  wild  elephant  in  his  fits 
of  fury,  when  to  oppose  his  course  is  death  ; 
in  1804,  she  was  like  the  same  animal  tam- 
ed and  trained,  who  kneels  down  and  suf- 
fers himself  to  be  mounted  by  the  soldier, 
whose  business  is  to  drive  him  into  the 
throng  of  the  battle. 

Measures  were  taken  as  on  former  occa- 
sions, to  preserve  appearances,  by  obtain- 
ing, in  show  at  least,  the  opinion  of  the 
people,  on  this  radical  change  of  their  sys- 
tem. Government,  however,  were  already 
confident  of  their  approbation,  which,  in- 
deed had  never  been  refused  to  any  of  the 
variuus  constitutions,  however  inconsistent, 
that  had  succeeded  each  other  with  such 
rapidity.  Secure  on  this  point,  Buonaparte's 
accession  to  the  Empire  was  proclaimed 
with  the  greatest  pomp,  without  waiting  to 
inquire  whether  the  people  approved  of  his 
promotion  or  otherwise.  The  proclama- 
tion was  coldly  received,  even  by  the  popu- 
lace, and  excited  little  enthusiasm.  It 
seemed,  according  to  some  writers,  as  if  the 
shades  of  T'Enghien  andPichegru  had  been 
present  invisibly,  and  spread  a  damp  over 
the  ceremony.  The  Emperor  was  recog- 
nised by  the  soldiery  with  more  warmth. 
He  visited  the  encampments  at  Boulogne, 
with  the  intention,  apparently,  of  receiving 
euch  an  acknowledgment  from  the  troops 
as  was  paid  by  the  ancient  Franks  to  their 
monarchs,  when  they  elevated  them  on 
their  bucklers.  Seated  on  an  iron  chair, 
•aid  to  have  belonged  to  King  Dagobert,  he 
took  his  place  between  two  immense  camps, 
and  having  before  him  the  Channel,  and  the 
hostile  coasts  of  England.  The  weather, 
we  have  been  assured,  had  been  tempestu- 
ous, but  no  sooner  had  the  Emperor  assum- 
ed his  seat,  to  receive  the  homage  of  his 
shouting  host,  than  the  sky  cleared,  and  the 
wind  dropt,  retaining  just  breath  sufficient 
gently  to  wave  the  banners.  Even  the  ele- 
ments seemed  to  acknowledge  the  Impe- 
rial dignity,  all  save  the  sea,  which  rolled 
as  carelessly  to  the  feet  of  Napoleon  as  it 
had  formerly  done  towards  those  of  Canute 
the  Dane. 

The  Emperor,  accompanied  with  his  Em- 
press, who  bore  her  honours  both  graceful- 
ly and  meekly,  visited  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and 
ttie  frontiers  of  Germany.    They  received 


the  congratulations  of  all  the  powers  of 
Europe,  excepting  England,  Russia,  and 
Sweden,  upon  their  new  exaltation  ;  and 
the  German  princes,  who  had  everything  to 
hope  and  fear  from  so  powerful  a  neigh- 
bour, hastened  to  pay  their  compliments  to 
Napoleon  in  person,  which  more  distant 
sovereigns  offered  by  their  ambassadors. 

But  the  most  splendid  and  public  recog- 
nition of  his  new  rank  was  yet  to  be  made, 
by  the  formal  act  of  coronation,  which, 
therefore,  Napoleon  determined  should 
take  place  with  circumstances  of  solemnity, 
which  had  been  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
temporal  prince,  however  powerful,  for  ma- 
ny ages.  His  policy  was  often  marked  by 
a  wish  to  revive,  imitate,  and  connect  his 
own  titles  and  interest  with,  some  ancient 
observance  of  former  days;  as  if  the  novel- 
ty of  his  claims  could  have  been  rendered 
more  venerable  by  investing  them  with  an- 
tiquated forms,  or  as  men  of  low  birth, 
when  raised  to  wealth  and  rank,  are  some- 
times desirous  to  conceal  the  obscurity  of 
their  origin  under  the  blaze  of  heraldic 
honours.  Pope  Leo,  he  remembered,  had 
placed  a  golden  crown  on  the  head  of 
Charlemagne,  and  proclaimed  him  Empe- 
ror of  the  Romans.  Pius  VII.,  he  deter- 
mined, should  do  the  same  for  a  successor 
to  much  more  than  the  actual  power  of 
Charlemagne.  But  though  Charlemagne 
had  repaired  to  Rome  to  receive  inaugura- 
tion from  the  hands  of  the  Pontiff  of  that 
day.  Napoleon  resolved  that  he  who  now 
owned  the  proud,  and  in  Protestant  eyes 
profane,  title  of  Vicar  of  Christ,  should 
travel  to  France  to  perform  the  coronation 
of  the  successful  chief,  by  whom  the  See 
of  Rome  had  been  more  than  once  hum- 
bled, pillaged,  and  impoverished,  but  by 
whom  also  her  power  had  been  re-erected 
and  restored,  not  only  in  Italy,  but  in 
France  itself. 

Humiliating  as  the  compliance  with  Buo- 
naparte's request  must  have  seemed  to  the 
more  devoted  Catholics,  Pius  VII.  had  al- 
ready sacrificed,  to  obtain  the  Concordat, 
so  much  of  the  power  and  privileges  of  the 
Roman  See,  that  he  could  hardly  have  been 
justified  if  he  had  run  the  risk  of  losing  the 
advantages  of  a  treaty  so  dearly  purchased, 
by  declining  to  incur  some  personal  trou- 
ble,- or,  it  might  be  termed,  sbme  direct 
self-abasement.  The  Pope,  and  the  cardi- 
nals whom  he  consulted,  implored  the  illu- 
mination of  Heaven  upon  their  councils  ; 
but  it  was  the  stern  voice  of  necessity 
which  assured  them,  that,  except  at  the 
risk  of  dividing  the  Church  by  a  schism, 
they  could  not  refuse  to  comply  with  Buo- 
naparte's requisition.  The  Pope  left  Rome 
on  the  5th  November.  He  was  every- 
where received  on  the  road  with  the  highest 
respect,  and  most  profound  veneration  ;  the 
Alpine  precipices  themselves  had  been  se- 
cured by  parapets  wherever  they  could  ex- 
pose the  venerable  Father  of  the  Catholic 
Church  to  danger,  or  even  apprehension. — 
Upon  the  25th  November,  he  met  Buona- 
parte at  Fontainbleau  ;  and  the  conduct  of 
the  Emperor  Napoleon  was  as  studiously 
respectful  towards  him,  as  that  of  Charle- 


Chap.  XL  VIII.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


403 


magne,  whom  he  was  pleased  to  call  his 
predecessor,  could  have  been  towards  Leo. 

On  the  2d  December,  the  ceremony  of 
the  coronation  took  place  in  the  ancient 
cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  with  the  addition 
of  every  ceremony  which  could  be  devised 
to  add  to  its  solemnity.  Yet  we  liave  been 
told  that  the  multitude  did  not  participate 
in  the  ceremonial  with  that  eagerness 
which  characterises  the  inhabitants  of  all 
capitals,  but  especially  those  of  Paris,  up- 
on similar  occasions.  They  had,  within  a 
very  few  years,  seen  so  many  exhibitions, 
processions,  and  festivals,  established  on 
the  most  discordant  principles,  which, 
though  announced  as  permanent  and  un- 
changeable, had  successively  given  way 
to  newer  doctrines,  that  they  considered 
the  splendid  representation  before  them  as 
an  unsubstantial  pageant,  which  would  fade 
away  in  its  turn.  Buonaparte  himself 
seemed  absent  and  gloomy,  till  recalled  to  a 
sense  of  his  grandeur  by  the  voice  of  the 
numerous  deputies  and  functionaries  sent 
up  from  all  the  several  departments  of 
France,  to  witness  the  coronation.  These 
functionaries  had  been  selected  with  due 
attention  to  their  political  opinions  ;  and 
many  of  them  holding  offices  under  the 
government,  or  expecting  benefits  from  tiie 
Emperor,  made  up,  by  the  zealous  vivacity 
of  tneir  acclamations,  for  the  coldnes3  of 
the  good  citizens  of  Paris. 

The  Emperor  took  his  coronation  oath  as 
usual  on  such  occasions,  with  his  hands 
upon  the  Scripture,  and  in  the  form  in  whicli 
it  was  repeated  to  him  by  the  Pope.  But 
in  the  act  of  coronation  itself,  there  was  a 
marked  deviation  from  the  universal  cus- 
tom, characteristic  of  the  man,  the  age, 
and  the  conjuncture.  In  all  other  similar 
solemDities,  the  crown  had  been  placed  on 
the  sovereign's  head  by  the  presiding  spir- 
itual person,  as  representing  the  Deity,  by 
whom  princes  rule.  But  not  even  from  the 
Head  of  the  Catholic  Church  would  Buona- 
parte consent  to  receive  as  a  boon  the  gold- 
en symbol  of  sovereignty,  which  he  was 
sensible  he  owed  solely  to  his  own  unpar- 
alleled train  of  military  and  civil  successes. 
The  crown  having  been  blessed  by  the 
Pope,  Napoleon  took  it  from  the  altar  with 
his  own  hands,  and  placed  it  on  his  brows. 
He  then  put  the  diadem  on  the  head  of  his 
Empress,  as  if  determined  to  show  that  his 
authority  was  the  child  of  his  own  actions. 
Te  Deum  was  sung;  the  hej^ilds,  (for  they 
also  had  again  come  into  fashion,)  pro- 
claimed, "that  the  thrice  glorious  and 
thrice  august  Napoleon,  Emperor  of  the 
French,  was  crowned  and  installed."  Thus 
concluded  this  remarkable  ceremony. — 
Those  who  remember  having  beheld  it, 
must  now  doubt  whether  they  were  waking, 
or  whether  fancy  l;ad  framed  a  vision  so 
dazzling  in  its  appearance,  so  extraordinary 
in  its  origin  and  progress,  and  so  epheme- 
ral in  its  endurance. 

The  very  day  before  the  cercmonv  of 
coronation,  (that  is,  on  the  1st  of  Decem- 
ber,) the  senate  had  waited  upon  the  Empe- 
ror with  the  result  of  the  votes  collected  in 
the  departments,  which,  till  that  time,  had 


been  taken  for  granted.  Upwards  of  three 
millions  five  hundred  thousand  citizens  had 
given  their  votes  on  this  occasion ;  of  whom 
only  about  tiiree  thousand  five  hundred  had 
declared  against  the  proposition.  The 
vice-president,  Neufchateau,  declared, 
"  this  report  was  the  unbiassed  expression 
of  the  people's  choice.  No  government 
could  plead  a  title  more  authentic." 

This  was  the  established  language  of  the 
day  ;  but  when  the  orator  went  farther,  and 
mentioned  the  measure  now  adopted  as  en- 
abling Buonaparte  to  guide  into  port  the 
vessel  of  the  Republic,  one  would  have 
tliought  llipre  was  more  irony  than  compli- 
ment in  the  expression. 

Napoleon  replied,  by  promises  to  employ 
the  power  which  the  unanimous  consent  of 
the  senate,  the  people,  and  the  army,  had 
conferred  upon  him,  for  the  advantage  of 
that  nation  which  he  himself,  writing  from 
fields  of  battle ,  had  first  saluted  with  the  title 
of  the  Great.  He  promised,  too,  in  name 
of  his  Dynasty,  that  his  children  should 
long  preserve  the  throne,  and  be  at  once 
the  first  soldiers  in  the  array  of  France 
and  the  first  magistrates  among  her  citi- 
zens. 

As  every  word  on  such  an  occasion  was 
scrupulously  sifted  and  examined,  it  seem- 
ed to  some  that  this  promise,  which  Napo- 
leon volunteered  in  behalf  of  children  who 
had  as  yet  no  existence,  intimated  a  med- 
itated change  of  consort,  since  from  his  pres- 
ent Empress  he  had  no  longer  any  hope  of 
issue.  Others  censured  the  proplietic  tone 
in  which  he  announced  what  would  be  the 
fate  and  conduct  of  unborn  beings,  and  spoke 
of  a  reign,  newly  commenced,  under  the 
title  of  a  Dynasty,  which  is  usually  applied 
to  a  race  of  successive  princes. 

We  pause  for  a  moment  to  consider  the 
act  of  popular  accession  to  the  new  gov- 
ernment ;  because  there,  if  anywhere,  we 
are  to  look  for  something  like  a  legal 
right,  in  virtue  of  which  Napoleon  might 
claim  obedience.  He  himself,  when  plead- 
ing his  own  cause  after  his  fall,  repeat- 
edly rests  his  right  to  be  considered  and 
treated  as  a  legitimate  monarch,  upon  the 
fact  that  he  was  called  to  the  crown  by  the 
voice  of  the  people. 

We  will  not  stop  to  inquire  how  the  re- 
gisters, in  which  the  votes  of  the  citizens 
were  enrolled,  were  managed  by  the  func- 
tionaries who  had  the  charge  of  them  ; — 
it  is  only  necessary  to  state  in  passing,  that 
these  returning  officers  were  in  general 
accessible  to  the  influence  of  government, 
and  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  institu- 
ting any  scrutiny  into  the  authenticity  of 
the  returns.  Neither  will  we  repeat,  that 
instead  of  waiting  for  the  event  of  the  pop- 
ular vote,  he  had  accepted  of  the  empire 
from  the  Senate,  and  had  been  proclaimed 
Emperor  accordingly.  Waiving  those  cir- 
cumstances entirely,  let  it  be  remembered, 
that  France  is  usually  reckoned  to  contain 
upwards  of  thirty  millions  of  inhabitants, 
and  that  three  millions,  five  hundred  thou- 
sand, only,  gave  their  votes.  This  was  not 
a  third  part,  deducting  women  and  children, 
of  those  who  had  a  title  to  express  their 


404 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.        [Chap.  XL  VIII. 


opinion,  w.iere  it  was  to  be  held  decisive 
of  the  greatest  change  which  the  state  could 
undergo;  and  it  must  be  allowed  that  the 
authority  of  so  limited  a  portion  of  the  peo- 
ple is  far  too  small  to  bind  the  remainder. 
We  have  heard  it  indeed  argued,  that  the 
question  having  been  formerly  put  to  the 
nation  at  large,  every  one  was  under  an  ob- 
ligation to  make  a  specific  reply;  and  they 
who  did  not  vote,  must  be  held  to  have  ac- 
quiesced in  the  opinion  e.xpressed  by  the 
majority  of  such  as  did.  This  argument, 
being  directly  contrary  to  the  presumption 
of  law  in  all  similar  cases,  is  not  more  valid 
than  the  defence  oi'the  soldier,  who,  accus- 
ed of  having  stolen  a  necklace  from  an  image 
of  the  Virgin,  replied  to  the  charge,  that  he 
had  first  asked  the  Madonna's  permission, 
and,  receiving  no  answer,  had  taken  silence 
for  consent. 

In  another  point  of  view,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  this  vote,  by  which  Na- 
poleon claimed  the  absolute  and  irre- 
deemable cession  of  the  liberties  of  France 
in  his  favour,  was  not  a  jot  more  solemn 
than  those  by  which  the  people  had  previ- 
ously sanctioned  the  Constitution  of  the 
Year  17al,  that  of  the  Year  VIII.,  and  that 
of  the  Consular  Government.  Now,  either 
the  vote  upon  all  those  occasions  was  bind- 
ing and  permanent,  or  it  was  capable  of  be- 
ing denied  and  recalled  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  people.  If  the  former  was  the  case, 
then  the  people  had  no  right,  in  1804,  to 
resume  the  votes  they  had  given,  and  the 
oaths  they  had  sworn,  to  the  first  form  of 
government  in  1791.  The  others  which 
they  sanctioned  in  its  stead,  were,  in  con- 
sequence, mere  usurpations,  and  that  now- 
attempted  the  most  flagrant  of  all,  since 
three  constitutions,  each  resting  on  the 
popular  consent,  were  demolished,  and 
three  sets  of  oaths  broken  and  discarded, 
to  make  room  for  Represent  model.  Again, 
if  the  people,  in  swearing  to  one  constitu- 
tion, retained  inalienably  the  right  of  sub- 
stituting another,  whenever  they  thought 
proper,  the  Imperial  Constitution  remained 
at  their  mercy  as  much  as  those  that  pre- 
ceded it;  and  then  on  what  could  Buona- 
parte rest  the  inviolability  of  his  authority, 
guarded  with  such  jealous  precaution,  and 
designed  to  descend  to  his  successors, 
without  any  future  appeal  to  the  people  ? 
The  dynasty  which  he  supposed  himself  to 
have  planted,  was  in  that  case  not  the  oak- 
tree  which  he  conceived  it,  but,  held  dur- 
ing the  good  pleasure  of  a  fickle  people, 
rather  resembled  the  thistle,  whose  un- 
substantial crest  rests  upon  the  stalk  only 
80  long  as  the  wind  shall  not  disturb  it. 

But  we  leave  these  considerations  ;  nor 
do  we  stop  to  inquire  how  many,  amid  the 
three  millions  and  upwards  of  voters,  gave 
an  unwilling  signature,  which  they  would 
have  refused  if  they  had  dared,  nor  how 
many  more  attached  no  greater  conse- 
quence to  the  act  than  to  a  piece  of  formal 
complaisance,  which  every  government  ex- 
pected in  its  turn,  and  which  bound  the 
subject  no  longer  than  the  ruler  had  means 
to  enforce  his  obedience.  Another  and 
Tiore  formidable  objection  remains  behind, 


which  pervaded  the  whole  pretended  sur 
render  by  the  French  nation  of  their  liber- 
ties, and  rendered  it  void,  null,  and  without 
force  or  effect  whatsoever.  It  was,  from 
the  commencement,  what  jurists  call  a 
pactum,  in  illicitit : — the  people  gave  that 
whicli  they  had  no  right  to  surrender,  and 
Buonaparte  accepted  that  which  he  had  no 
title  to  take  at  their  hands.  In  most  in- 
stances of  despotic  usurpation — we  need 
only  look  at  the  case  of  CcEsar — the  popular 
party  have  been  made  the  means  of  work- 
ing out  their  own  servitude  ;  the  govern- 
ment being  usurped  by  some  demagogue 
who  acted  in  their  name,  and  had  the  art  to 
make  their  own  hands  the  framers  of  their 
own  chains.  But  though  such  consent  on 
the  part  of  the  people,  elicited  from  an  ex- 
cess of  partial  confidence  or  of  gratitude, 
may  have  rendered  such  encroachments 
on  the  freedom  of  the  state  more  easy,  it 
did  not  and  could  not  render  it  in  any  case 
more  legal.  The  rights  of  a  free  people 
aire  theirs  to  enjoy,  but  not  theirs  to  alienate 
or  surrender.  The  people  are  in  this  re- 
spect like  minors,  to  whom  law  assures 
their  property,  but  invests  them  with  no 
title  to  give  it  away  or  consume  it ;  the 
national  privileges  are  an  estate  entailed 
from  generation  to  generation,  and  they 
can  neither  be  the  subject  of  gift,  exchange, 
nor  surrender,  by  those  who  enjoy  the 
usufruct  or  temporary  possession  of  them 
No  man  is  lord  even  of  his  person,  to  the 
effect  of  surrendering  his  life  or  limbs  to 
the  mercy  of  another;  the  contract  of  the 
Merchant  of  Venice  would  now  be  held 
null  from  the  beginning  in  any  court  of 
justice  in  Europe.  But  far  more  should 
the  report  of  1804,  upon  Buonaparte's  elec- 
tion, be  esteemed  totally  void,  since  it  in- 
volved the  cession  on  the  part  of  the  French 
people  of  that  which  ought  to  have  been 
far  more  dear  to  them,  and  held  more  inali- 
enable, than  the  pound  of  flesh  nearest  the 
heart,  or  the  very  heart  itself. 

As  the  people  of  France  had  no  right  to 
resign  their  own  liberties,  and  that  of  their 
posterity,  for  ever,  so  Buonaparte  could  not 
legally  avail  himself  of  their  prodigal  and 
imprudent  cession.  If  a  blind  man  give  a 
piece  of  gold  by  mistake  instead  of  a  piece 
of  silver,  he  who  receives  it  acquires  no 
legal  title  to  the  surplus  value.  If  an  igno- 
rant man  enter  unwittingly  into  an  illegal 
compact,  his  signature,  though  voluntary. 
is  not  binding  upon  him.  It  is  true,  that 
Buonaparte  had  rendered  the  highest  ser- 
vices to  France,  by  his  Italian  campaigns  in 
the  first  instance,  and  aflerwards  by  that 
wonderful  train  of  success  which  followed 
his  return  from  Egypt.  Still,  the  services 
yielded  by  a  subject  to  his  native  land,  like 
the  duty  paid  by  a  child  to  a  parent,  cannot 
render  him  creditor  of  the  country,  beyond 
the  amount  which  she  has  legal  means  of 
discharging.  If  France  had  received  the 
highest  benefits  from  Buonaparte,  she  had 
in  return  raised  him  as  high  as  any  subject 
could  be  advanced,  and  had,  indeed,  in  her 
reckless  prodigality  of  gratitude,  given,  or 
suffered  him  to  assume,  the  very  despotic 
authority,  which  this  compiict  of  which  we 


Chap.  XL  Vin.]         LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


405. 


treat  was  to  consolidate  and  sanction  under 
Its  real  name  of  Empire.  Here,  therefore, 
we  close  the  argument;  concluding  the 
pretended  vote  of  the  French  people  to  be 
totally  null,  both  a3  regarding  the  subjects 
who  yielded  their  privileges,  and  the  empe- 
ror who  accepted  of  their  surrender.  The 
former  could  not  give  away  rights  which  it 
was  not  lawful  to  resign,  the  latter  could  not 
accept  an  authority  which  it  was  unlawful 
to  exercise. 

An  apologv',  or  rather  a  palliation,  of  Buo- 
naparte's usurpation,  has  been  set  up  by 
himself  and  his  more  ardent  admirers,  and 
we  are  desirous  of  giving  to  it  all  the 
weight  which  it  shall  be  found  to  deserve. 
They  have  said,  and  with  great  reason,  that 
Buonaparte,  viewed  in  his  general  conduct, 
was  no  selfish  usurper,  and  that  the  mode  in 
which  he  acquired  his  power  was  gildcfd  ov- 
er by  the  use  which  he  made  of  it.  This  is 
true  ;  for  we  will  not  underrate  the  merits 
which  Napoleon  thus  acquired,  by  observ- 
ing that  shrewd  politicians  have  been  of 
opinion,  that  sovereigns  who  have  only  a 
questionable  right  to  their  authority,  are 
compelled,  were  it  but  for  their  own  sakes, 
to  govern  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  the 
country  feel  its  advantage  in  submitting  to 
their  sovernment.  We  grant  willingly,  that 
in  much  of  his  internal  administratio.T  Buo- 
naparte showed  that  he  desired  to  have  no 
advantage  separate  from  that  of  France  ; 
that  he  conceived  her  interests  to  be  con- 
nected with  his  own  glory  ;  that  he  expend- 
ed his  wealth  in  ornamenting  the  empire, 
and  not  upon  objects  more  immediately  per- 
sonal to  himself.  We  have  no  doubt  that 
he  had  more  pleasure  in  seeing  treasures  of 
art  added  to  the  Museum,  than  in  hanging 
them  on  the  walls  of  his  own  palace  ;  and 
that  he  spoke  truly,  when  asserting  that  he 
grudged  Josephine  the  expensive  plants 
with  which  she  decorated  her  residence  at 
Malmaison,  because  her  tnste  interfered 
with  the  prosperity  of  the  public  botanical 
garden  of  Paris.  We  allow,  therefore,  that 
Buonaparte  fully  identified  himself  with  the 
country  which  he  had  rendered  his  patri- 
mony ;  and  that  while  it  should  be  called 
by  his  name,  he  w.as  desirous  of  investing  it 
with  as  much  external  splendour,  and  as 
much  internal  prosperity,  as  his  gigantic 
schemes  were  able  to  compass.  No  doubt 
it  may  be  said,  so  completely  was  the  coun- 
try identified  with  its  ruler,  that  as  France 
had  nothing  but  what  belonged  to  its  Em- 
peror, he  was  in  fact  improving  his  own  es- 
tate when  he  advanced  her  public  works, 
and  could  no  more  be  said  to  lose  sight  of 
his  own  interest,  than  a  private  gentleman 
does,  who  neglects  his  garden  to  ornament 
his  park.  But  it  is  not  fair  to  press  the  mo- 
tives of  human  nature  to  their  last  retreat, 
in  which  something  like  a  taint  of  self-in- 
terest may  so  often  be  discovered.  It  is 
enough  to  reply,  that  the  selfishness  which 
embraces  the  interests  of  a  whole  kingdom, 
is  of  a  kind  so  liberal,  so  extended,  and  so 
refined,  as  to  be  closelv  allied  to  patriot- 
ism ;  and  that  the  good  intentions  of  Buo- 
naparte towards  that  France,  over  wliich  he 
ruled  with  despotic  sway,  can  be  no  more 


doubted,  than  the  affections  of  an  arbitrarj 
father,  whose  object  it  is  to  make  his  son 
prosperous  and  happy,  to  which  he  annexes 
as  the  only  condition,  that  he  shall  be  im- 
plicitly obedient  to  every  tittle  of  his  will. 
The  misfortune  is,  however,  that  arbitrary 
power  is  in  itself  a  faculty,  which,  whether 
exercised  over  a  kingdom,  or  in  the  bosom 
of  a  family,  is  apt  to  be  used  with  caprice 
rather  than  judgment,  and  becomes  a  snare 
to  those  who  possess  it,  as  well  as  a  burthen 
to  those  over  whom  it  extends.  A  father, 
for  example,  seeks  the  happiness  of  his  son, 
while  he  endeavours  to  assure  his  fortunes, 
by  compelling  him  to  enter  into  a  mercena- 
ry and  reluctant  marriage  ;  and  Buonaparte 
conceived  himself  to  be  benefiting  as  well 
as  aggrandising  France,  when,  preferring  the 
splendour  of  conquest  to  the  blessings  of 
peace,  he  led  the  flower  of  her  young  men 
to  perish  in  foreign  fields,  and  finally  was 
the  means  of  her  being  delivered  up,  drain- 
ed of  her  population,  to  the  mercy  of  the 
foreign  invaders,  whose  resentment  his  am- 
bition had  provoked. 

Such  are  the  considerations  which  natu- 
rally arise  out  of  Napoleon's  final  and  avow- 
ed assumption  of  the  absolute  power,  which 
he  had  in  reality  possessed  and  exercised 
ever  since  he  had  been  created  First  Con- 
sul for  life.  It  was  soon  after  made  mani- 
fest, that  France, enlarged  and  increased  in 
strength  as  she  had  been  under  his  auspif- 
es,  v/as  yet  too  narrow  a  sphere  for  his  dom- 
ination. '  Italy  afforded  the  first  illustratioa 
of  his  grasping  ambition. 

The  northern  states  of  Italy  had  follow- 
ed the  example  of  France  through  all  her 
change  of  models.  They  had  become  re- 
publican in  a  Directorial  form,  when  Napo- 
leon's swnrd  conquered  them  from  the  Aus- 
trians  ;  had  changed  to  an  establishment 
similar  to  the  Consular,  when  that  was  in- 
stituted in  Paris  by  the  18th  Brumaire  ; 
and  were  now  destined  to  receive,  as  a  King, 
him  who  had  lately  accepted  and  exercised 
with  regal  authority  the  office  of  their  pres- 
ident. 

The  authorities  of  the  Italian  (late  Cisal- 
pine) Republic,  had  a  prescient  guess  of 
what  was  expected  of  them.  A  deputation 
appeared  at  Paris,  to  declare  the  absolute 
necessity  wliich  they  felt,  that  their  govern- 
ment should  assume  a  monarchical  and 
hereditary  form.  On  the  17th  March,  they 
obtained  an  audience  of  the  Emperor,  to 
whom  they  intimated  the  unanimous  desire 
of  their  countrymen,  that  Napoleon,  found- 
er of  the  Italian  Republic,  should  be  mon- 
arch of  the  Italian  Kingdom.  He  was  to 
have  power  to  name  his  successor,  such 
being  always  a  native  of  France  or  Italy. 
With  an  affectation  of  jealous  indepen- 
dence, however,  the  authors  of  this  "  hum- 
ble petition  and  advice"  stipulated,  thatths 
crowns  of  France  and  Italy  should  never, 
save  in  the  present  instance,  be  placed  on 
the  head  of  the  same  monarch.  Napoleon 
might,  during  his  life,  devolve  the  sove- 
reignty of  Italy  on  one  of  his  descendants, 
either'natural  or  adopted;  but  it  was  anx- 
iously stipulated,  that  such  delegation 
should  not'be  made  during  the  period  whilo 


406 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE.         [Chap.  XL  Vm. 


France  continued  to  occupy  the  Neapolitan 
territories,  the  Russians  Corfu,  and  the 
British  Malta. 

Buonaparte  granted  the  petition  of  the 
Italian  States,  and  listened  with  indulgence 
to  their  jealous  scruples.  He  agreed  with 
them,  that  the  separation  of  the  crowns  of 
France  and  Italy,  which  might  be  useful  to 
their  descendants,  would  be  in  the  high- 
est degree  dangerous  to  themselves  ;  and 
therefore  he  consented  to  bear  the  addition- 
al burthen  whicli  their  love  and  confidence 
imposed,  at  least  until  the  interest  of  his 
Italian  subjects  should  permit  him  to  place 
the  crown  on  a  younger  head,  who,  animat- 
ed by  his  spirit,  should,  he  engaged,  "  be 
ever  ready  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  the  peo- 

Ele  over  whom  he  should  be  called  to  rcMgn, 
y  Providence,  by  the  constitution  of  the 
country,  and  by  the  will  of  Napoleon."  In 
announcing  this  new  acquisition  to  the 
French  Senate,  Buonaparte  made  use  of 
an  expression  so  singularly  audacious,  that 
to  utter  It  required  almost  as  much  courage 
as  to  scheme  one  of  his  most  daring  cam- 
paigns. •'  The  power  and  majesty  of  the 
French  empire,"  he  said,  "  are  surpassed 
by  the  moderation  which  presides  over  her 
political  transactions.'' 

Upon  the  11th  April,  Napoleon,  with  his 
Empress,  set  off  to  go  through  the  form  of 
coronation,  as  King  of  Italy.  The  cere- 
mony almost  exactly  resembled  that  by 
whicli  he  had  been  inaugurated  Emperor. 
The  ministry  of  the  Pope,  however,  was 
not  employed  on  this  second  occasion,  al- 
though, as  Pius  VII.  was  then  on  his  return 
to  Rome,  he  could  scarcely  have  declined 
officiating,  if  he  had  been  requested  by 
Buonaparte  to  take  Milan  in  his  route  for 
that  purpose.  Perhaps  it  was  thought  too 
harsh  to  exact  from  the  Pontiff  the  conse- 
cration of  a  King  of  Italy,  whose  very  title 
implied  a  possibility  that  his  dominion 
might  be  one  day  extended,  so  as  to  include 
the  patrimony  of  Saint  Peter.  Perhaps,  and 
we  rather  believe  it  was  the  case,  some 
cause  of  dissatisfaction  had  already  occur- 
red betwixt  Napoleon  and  Pius  VII. 
However  this  may  be,  the  ministry  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Milan  was  held  sufficient  for 
the  occasion,  and  it  was  he  who  blessed 
the  celebrated  iron  crown  said  to  have  gird- 
ed the  brows  of  the  ancient  Kings  of  the 
Lombards.  Buonaparte,  as  in  the  ceremony 
at  Paris,  placed  the  ancient  emblem  on  his 
head  with  his  own  hands,  assuming  and  re- 
peating aloud  the  haughty  motto  attached 
to  it  by  its  ancient  owners,  Ditu  me  I'a 
donne  ;  Gate  qiti  la  louche* 


*  God  has  given  it  me  ;  Let  him  beware  who 
<rouid  touch  il 


The  new  kingdom  was,  in  all  respects, 
modelled  on  the  same  plan  with  the  French 
empire.  An  order,  called  "  of  the  Iron 
Crown,"  was  established  on  the  footing  of 
that  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.  A  large 
French  force  was  taken  into  Italian  pay,  and 
Eugene  Beauharnois,  the  son  of  Josephine 
by  her  former  marriage,  who  enjoyed  and 
merited  the  confidence  of  his  father-in-law, 
was  created  viceroy,  and  appointed  to  re- 
present, in  that  character,  the  dignity  of 
Napoleon. 

i\ap  leon  did  not  leave  Italy  without 
fartlif  extension  of  his  empire.  Genoa, 
once  le  proud  and  the  powerful,  resigned 
her  itvJependence,  and  her  Doge  presented 
to  the  Emperor  a  request  that  the  Ligurian 
Republic,  laying  down  her  separate  rights, 
should  be  considered  in  future  as  a  part  of 
the  French  nation.  It  was  but  lately  that 
Buonaparte  had  declared  to  the  listening 
Senate,  that  the  boundaries  of  France  were 
permanently  fixed,  and  should  not  be  exten- 
ded for  the  comprehension  of  future  con- 
quests. It  is  farther  true,  that,  by  a  solemn 
alliance  with  France,  Genoa  had  placed  her 
arsenals  and  harbours  at  the  disposal  of  the 
French  government ;  engaged  to  supply  her 
powerful  ally  with  six  thousand  sailors,  and 
ten  sail  of  the  line,  to  be  equipped  at  her 
own  expense  ;  and  that  her  independence, 
or  such  a  nominal  share  of  that  inestimabh.- 
privilege  as  was  consistent  with  her  con- 
nexion with  this  formidable  power,  had 
been  guaranteed  by  France.  But  neither 
the  charge  of  inconsistency  with  his  own 
public  declarations,  nor  consideration  of  the 
solemn  treaty  acknowledging  the  Ligurian 
Republic,  prevented  Napoleon  from  avail- 
ing himself  of  the  pretext  afforded  by  the 
petition  of  the  Doge.  It  was  convenient 
to  indulge  the  city  and  government  of  Ge- 
noa in  their  wish  to  become  an  integral 
part  of  the  Great  nation.  Buonaparte  wan 
well  aware,  that,  by  recognising  them  as  a 
department  of  France,  he  was  augmenting 
the  jealousy  of  Russia  and  Austria,  who 
had  already  assumed  a  threatening  front  to- 
wards him;  but,  as  he  visited  the  splendid 
city  of  the  Dorias,  and  saw  its  streets  of 
marble  palaces,  ascending  from  and  sur- 
rounding its  noble  harbours,  he  was  heard 
to  exclaim,  that  such  a  possession  was  well 
worth  the  risks  of  war.  The  success  of 
one  mighty  plan  only  induced  him  to  form 
another;  and  while  he  was  conscious  that 
he  was  the  general  object  of  jealousy  and 
suspicion  to  Europe,  Napoleon  could  not 
refrain  from  encroachments,  which  neces- 
sarily increased  and  perpetuated  such  ho«« 
tile  sentiments  towards  him. 


CJuip.  XUX] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


407 


CHAP.  ZLIZ. 

Napoleon  addresses  a  Second  Letter  to  the  King  of  England  personally — The  folly  and 
inconvenience  of  this  Innovation  discussed — Answered  by  the  British  Secretary  qf 
State  to  Talleyrand. — Alliance  formed  betwixt  Russia  and  England. — Prussia  keep* 
tUoof,  and  the  Emperor  Alexander  visits  Berlin. — Austria  prepares  for  War,  and 
marches  an  Army  into  Bavaria — Her  impolicy  in  prematurely  coinmencing  Hostili- 
ties, and  in  her  Conduct  to  Bavaria. —  Unsoldierlike  Conduct  of  the  Austrian  Gener- 
al, Mack. — Buonaparte  is  joined  by  the  Electors  of  Bavaria  and  IVirtemburg,  and 
Uie  Duke  of  Baden. — Skilful  Manoeuvres  of  the  French  Generals,  and  successive  lo*»- 
e*  of  the  Austrians. — Xapoleon  violates  the  Neutrality  of  Prussia,  by  marching 
through  Anspach  and  Bareuth. — Further  Losses  of  the  Austrian  Leaders,  and  con- 
sequent disunion  among  them. — Mack  is  cooped  up  in  Ulm — Issues  a  formidable  De- 
"ilaration  on  the  I6th  October — and  surrenders  on  the  following  day. — Fatal  ReauiU 
vfthis  Man's  Poltroonery,  want  of  Skill,  and  probable  I'reachery. 


BcoifAPARTE,  Consul,  had  affected  to  give 
&  direct  testimony  of  his  desire  to  make 
peace,  by  opening  a  communication  imme- 
diately and  personally  with  the  King  of 
Great  Britain.  Buonaparte,  Emperor,  had, 
according  to  his  own  interpretation  of  his 
proceedings,  expiated  by  his  elevation  all 
the  crimes  of  the  Revolution,  and  wiped 
out  for  ever  the  memory  of  those  illusory 
visions  of  liberty  and  equality,  which  had 
alarmed  such  governments  as  continued  to 
rest  their  authority  on  the  ancient  basis  of 
legitimacy.  He  had,  in  short,  according  to 
his  own  belief,  preserved  in  his  system  all 
that  the  Republic  had  produced  of  good, 
nnd  done  away  all  the  memory  of  that 
which  was  evil. 

With  such  pretensions,  to  say  nothing  of 
his  absolute  power,  he  hastened  to  claim 
admission  among  the  acknowledged  Princes 
of  Europe  ;  and  a  second  time  (27th  Janu- 
ary 1805,)  by  a  letter  addressed  to  King 
George  lU..  personally,  under  the  title  of 
'•  Sir  my  Brother,"  endeavoured  to  prove, 
by  a  string  of  truisms, — on  the  preference 
of  a  state  of  peace  to  war,  and  on  the  recip- 
rocal grandeur  of  France  and  England,  both 
adTanced  to  the  highest  pitch  of  prosperity, 
— that  the  hostilities  between  the  nations 
ought  to  be  ended. 

\Ve  have  already  stated  the  inconvenien- 
«es  which  must  necessarily  attach  to  a  de- 
parture from  the  usual  course  of  treating 
between  states,  and  to  the  transference  of 
the  discussions  usually  intrusted  to  inferior 
and  responsible  agents,  to  those  who  are 
themselves  at  the  head  of  the  nation.  But 
if  Napoleon  had  been  serious  in  desiring 
peace,  and  saw  anv  reason  for  directly  com- 
municating with  the  English  King  rather 
than  with  the  English  government,  he  ought 
to  have  made  his  proposals  something  more 
fpeciiic  than  a  string  of  general  proposi- 
tions, which,  affirmed  on  the  one  side,  and 
undisputed  on  the  other,  left  the  question 
between  the  belligerent  powers  as  undecid- 
ed as  formerly.  The  question  was,  not 
whether  peace  was  desirable,  but  on  what 
terms  it  was  offered,  or  could  be  obtained. 
If  Buonaparte,  while  statir.i,  as  he  might 
have  been  expected  to  do,  that  the  jealous- 
ies entertained  by  England  of  his  power 
were  unjust,  had  agreed,  that  for  the  tran- 
quillity of  Europe,  the  weal  of  both  nations 
*nd  the  respect  in  which  he  held  the  char- 
Kter  of  the  monarch  whom  he  addressed, 


Malta  should  remain  with  Britain  in  perpe- 
tuity, or  for  a  stipulated  period,  it  would 
have  given  a  serious  turn  to  his  overture, 
which  was  at  present  as  vague  in  its  ten- 
dency, as  it  was  unusual  in  the  form. 

The  answer  to  his  letter,  addressed  by 
the  British  Secretary  of  Slate  to  Talleyrand, 
declared,  that  Britain  could  not  make  a 
precise  reply  to  the  proposal  of  peace  inti- 
mated in  Napoleon's  letter,  until  she  had 
communicated  with  her  allies  on  the  Conti- 
nent, and  in  particular  with  the  Emperor 
of  Russia. 

These  expressions  indicated,  what  wa« 
already  well  known  to  Buonaparte,  the 
darkening  of  another  continental  storm, 
about  to  be  directed  against  his  power.  On 
this  occasion,  Russia  was  the  soul  of  the 
confederacy.  Since  the  death  of  the  un- 
fortunate Paul  had  placed  that  mighty  coun- 
trv  under  the  government  of  a  wise  and 
prudent  Prince,  whose  education  had  been 
sedulously  cultivated,  and  who  had  profiteo 
in  an  eminent  degree  by  that  advantage,  her 
counsels  had  been  dignified,  wise,  and  mod- 
erate. She  had  offered  her  mediation  be- 
twixt the  belligerent  powers,  which,  accept- 
ed willingly  by  Great  Britain,  had  been 
somewhat  haughtily  declined  by  France, 
whose  ruler  was  displeased,  doubtless,  to 
find  that  power  in  the  hands  of  a  sharp- 
sighted  and  sagacious  sovereign,  which, 
when  lodged  in  those  of  Paul,  he  might 
reckon  upon  as  at  his  own  disposal,  through 
his  influence  over  that  weak  and  partial 
monarch. 

From  this  time  there  was  coldness  be- 
twixt the  French  and  Russian  governments. 
The  murder  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  increas- 
ed the  misunderstanding.  The  Emperor  of 
Russia  was  too  high-spirited  to  view  this 
scenB  of  perfidy  and  violence  in  silence  ; 
and  as  he  not  only  remonstrated  with  Buo- 
naparte himself,  but  appealed  to  the  Ger- 
man Diet  on  the  violation  of  the  territories 
of  the  empire,  Napoleon,  unused  to  have  his 
actions  censured  and  condemned  by  others, 
how  powerful  soever,  seems  to  have  regard- 
ed the  Emperor  .\lexander  with  personal 
dislike.  Russia  and  Sweden,  and  their 
monarchs,  became  the  subjects  of  satira 
and  ridicule  in  the  Moniteur  ;  and,  as  eve- 
ry one  knew,  such  arrows  were  never  di»- 
charaed  without  Buonaparte's  special  au- 
thority. The  latter  prince  withdrew  hi» 
ambassador  from  Paris,  and  in  a  public  note 


408 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLIX. 


delivered  to  the  French  envoy  at  Stock- 
holm, expressed  his  surprise  at  the  "  inde- 
cent and  ridiculous  insolencies  which  Mon- 
sieur Napoleon  Buonaparte  had  permitted 
to  be  inserted  in  the  Moniteur."  Gustavus 
was,  it  is  true,  of  an  irregular  and  violent 
temper,  apt  to  undertake  plans,  to  the 
achievrtnent  of  which  the  strength  of  his 
kingdom  was  inadequate  ;  yet  he  would 
scarcely  have  expressed  himself  with  so  lit- 
tle veneration  for  the  most  formidable  au- 
thority in  Europe,  had  he  not  been  confi- 
dent in  the  support  of  the  Czar,  in  fact, 
on  the  10th  of  January  1805,  the  King  of 
Sweden  had  signed  a  treaty  of  close  alliance 
with  Russia ;  and.  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence, on  the  31st  of  October  following, 
he  published  a  declaration  of  war  against 
France,  in  terms  personally  insulting  to  iVa- 
jvjloon. 

Russia  and  England,  in  tlie  meantime, 
h:id  engaged  in  an  alliance,  the  general  pur- 
jiDSP  of  which  was  to  form  a  league  upon 
the  continent,  to  compel  the  French  gov- 
«;ri)asent  to  consent  to  the  re-establishment 
•  li' the  balance  of  Europe.  The  objects  pro- 
iii:ii:d  were  briefly  the  independence  of 
IfoUand  and  Switzerland  ;  the  evacuation 
iif  Hanover  and  the  north  of  Germany  by  the 
French  troops  ;  the  restoration  of  Piedmont 
to  the  King  of  Sardinia  ;  and  the  complete 
evacuation  of  Italy  by  the  French.  These 
were  gigantic  schemes,  for  which  suitable 
»'lForts  were  to  be  made.  Five  hundred 
Ihousnnd  men  were  to  be  employed ;  and 
Britain,  besides  affording  the  assistance  of 
Ikt  forces  by  sea  and  land,  was  to  pay 
large  subsidies  for  supporting  the  armies  of 
the  coalition. 

Great  Britain  and  Russia  were  the  ani- 
mating sources  of  this  new  coalition  against 
France  ;  but  it  was  impossible,  considering 
the  insular  situation  of  the  first  of  those 
powers,  and  the  great  distance  of  the  sec- 
ond from  the  scene  of  action,  that  they 
alone,  without  the  concurrence  of  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria  and  the  King  of  Prussia, 
should  be  able  to  assail  France  with  any 
prospect  of  making  a  successful  impression. 
F.very  effort,  therefore,  was  used  to  awaken 
those  states  to  a  sense  of  the  daily  repeated 
<5acroachments  of  Buonaparte,  and  of  the 
extreme  danger  to  which  they  were  respec- 
tively exposed  by  the  rapidly  increasing  ex- 
tent of  his  empire. 

But  since  the  unsuccessful  campaign  of 
the  year  1792,  Prussia  had  observed  a  cau- 
tious and  wary  neutrality.  She  had  seen, 
not  perhaps  without  secret  pleasure,  the 
humiliation  of  Austria,  her  natural  rival  in 
Germany,  and  she  had  taken  many  opportu- 
nities to  make  acquisition  of  petty  objects 
of  advantage,  in  consequence  of  the  various 
changes  upon  the  continent  ;  so  that  she 
seemed  to  lind  her  own  interest  in  the  suc- 
cesses of  France.  It  is  imagined,  also,  that 
Buonaparte  had  found  some  of  her  leading 
statesmen  not  altogether  inaccessible  to  in- 
fluence of  a  different  kind,  by  the  liberal 
exercise  of  which  he  was  enabled  to  main- 
tain a  strong  interest  in  the  Prussian  coun- 
eils.  Butthe  principles  of  these  ministers 
ware  far  from  being  shared  by  the  nation  at 


large.  The  encroachments  on  the  German 
Empire  intimately  concerned  the  safety  of 
Prussia,  and  the  nation  saw,  in  the  decay  of 
the  Austrian  influence,  the  creation  and  in- 
crease of  a  strong  German  party  in  favour 
of  France,  to  whom  Bavaria,  VVirtemberg, 
and  almost  all  the  petty  princes  upon  the 
Rhine  and  its  vicinity,  began  now  to  lookup 
with  the  devotion  and  reverence  which  had 
hitherto  been  paid  to  the  great  states  of 
.\ustria  and  Prussia.  The  subjects  of  the 
Great  Frederick  also  remembered  his  nu- 
merous victories,  and,  proud  of  the  army 
which  he  had  created  and  bequeathed  to  l.is 
succe.ssor,  felt  neither  apprehension  nor 
unwillingness  at  the  thought  of  measuring 
forces  with  the  Dictator  of  Europe.  The 
councils,  therefore,  of  Prussia  were  divid- 
ed ;  and  though  those  which  were  favoura- 
ble to  France  prevailed  so  far  as  to  prevent 
her  immediately  becoming  a  member  of  the 
coalition,  yet,  by  increasing  her  army  to  the 
war  establishment,  and  marching  forces  to- 
wards the  country  which  appeared  about  to 
become  the  scene  of  hostilities,  Prus.^ia 
gave  plain  intimation  that  the  continuance 
of  her  neutrality  depended  upon  the  events 
of  war. 

To  animate  her  councils,  if  possible,  with 
a  more  decided  spirit,  Alexander  visited  the 
court  of  Berlin  in  person.     He  was  received 
with  the  utmost  distinction,  and  both  the 
King  of  Prussia,  and  his  beautiful  and  inter- 
esting queen,  gave  manifest  tokens  of  the 
share  they   took  personally  in  the  success 
of  the  alliance.     An  oath  was  taken  by  the 
two  sovereigns  at  the  tomb  of  the  (ireat 
Frederick,  by  which  they  are  said  to  have 
devoted  themselves  to   the  liberation    of 
Germany, — a  vow  which,  though  at  a  di.s- 
tant  period,  they  amply  redeemed.     Still, 
whatever  might  be  the  personal  opinions  of 
the  King  of  Prussia,  the  counsels  of  Haug- 
witz   continued   to  influence  his  cabinet ; 
and  the  Emperor  withdrew  from  Berlin,  to 
place   himself  at  the  head   of  his   troops, 
while  the  Prussian  monarch,  assembling  an 
army  of  observation,  assumed  the  menacing 
air  of  a  neutral  who  feels  himself  able  to 
turn  the  scale  in  favour  of  either  of  the  bel- 
ligerent powers  at  his  pleasure.     This  was 
not  the  moment  for  Buonaparte  to  take  of- 
fence at  these  demonstrations,  as  the  doing 
so  might  convert  a  doubtful  friend  into  an 
avowed   and  determined  enemy.     But  the 
dubious  policy  of  Prussia  was  not  forgotten. 
— it  was  carefully  treasured  in  Napoleon's 
memory,  as  that  for  which  she  was  to  be 
called  to  account  at  a  future  period.     In  the 
meantime  he  had  the  full  advantage  of  her 
hesitating  councils  and  doubtful  neutrality. 
Austria  was   more  accessible  to  the  ap- 
plication  of  the   allies.      Notwithstanding 
the  disasters  of  the  last  two  wars,  the  lo.ssof 
a   large  portion  of  Italy,  the  disasters   of 
Bellegarde.  Alvinzi,  and  Wurniser.  and  the 
disastrous  defeats  of  Marengo  and  Hohen- 
linden,  the  extent  and  inilitiiry  character  of 
her  population,  among  whom  a  short  inter- 
val of  peace  was   sufficient  to  recruit  tlia 
losses  of  the  most  bloody   war. — aoove  all. 
the  haughty  determination  of  a  cabinet  re- 
markable for  the  tenacity  with  which  they 


Chap.  XLIX] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


409 


retain  and  act  upon  the  principles  which 
they  have  once  adopted,  induced  her  gov- 
ernment to  accede  to  the  alliance  betwixt 
Russia  and  Great  Britain.  She  had  not  for- 
gotten the  successes  which  her  generals 
and  armies  had  obtained  when  fighting  by 
the  side  of  Suwarrow,  and  might  hope  to 
see  once  more  renewed  the  victories  of 
Trebiaand  of  Novi.  She  therefore  increas- 
ed her  force  in  every  quarter ;  and  while 
the  Archduke  Charles  took  the  command 
of  eighty  thousand  men  in  Italy,  on  which 
country  Austria  always  kept  a  wishful  eye, 
eighty  thousand  more,  destined  to  act  upon 
the  Lech,  and  it  was  hoped  upon  the  Rhine, 
were  placed  under  the  charge  of  General 
Mack,  whose  factitious  and  ill-merited 
reputation  had,  unfortunately  for  Austria, 
remained  unabated,  notwithstanding  his 
miserable  Neapolitan  campaign  in  1799. 
The  Archduke  Ferdinand,  a  prince  of  great 
courage  and  hopes,  was  the  nominal  com- 
mander of  the  last-mentioned  army,  while 
the  real  authority  was  lodged  in  this  old  and 
empty  professor  of  tactics.  To  conclude 
this  detail  of  preparation,  the  Archduke 
John  was  appointed  to  command  in  the 
Tyrol. 

It  remained  only  to  try  the  event  of  ne- 
gotiation, ere  finally  proceeding  to  military 
extremities.  It  was  not  difficult  to  state 
the  causes  of  the  war,  which  was  now  about 
to  break  out  anew.  By  the  peace  of  Lune- 
ville,  finally  concluded  between  Austria 
and  France,  the  independence  of  the  Italian, 
Helvetian,  and  Batavian  republics  had  been 
stipulated;  but  instead  of  such  terms  being 
complied  with.  Napoleon,  rendering  him- 
self Grand  Mediator  of  Switzerland  and 
King  of  Italy,  had  at  the  same  time  filled 
Holland  with  troops,  and  occupied  the 
whole  three  countries  in  such  a  manner, 
as  made  them  virtually,  and  almost  avow- 
edly, the  absolute  dependencies  of  France. 

Complaints  on  these  heads,  warmly  urg- 
ed by  Austria,  were  sharply  answered  by 
France,  who  in  her  turn  accused  Austria 
of  want  of  confidence,  and  of  assuming  arms 
in  the  midst  of  peace.  The  Emperor  of 
Russia  interfered,  and  sent  a  special  ambas- 
Bador  to  Paris,  with  the  purpose  of  coming, 
if  possible,  to  an  amicable  accommodation, 
which  might  even  yet  preserve  the  tranquil- 
lity of  Europe.  But  ere  Novosiltzoff"  had 
reached  his  place  of  destination,  the  union 
of  Genoa  with  the  French  empire  was  an- 
nounced ;  an  encroachment,  which,  joined 
to  Napoleon's  influence  in  Switzerland, 
rendered  the  whole  north-w., -stern  frontier 
of  Italy  completely  open  fo.-the  march  of 
French  armies,  and  precluded  the  possible 
hope  of  that  fine  country  assuming  any 
character  of  independence,  even  if.  at  a 
future  time,  its  crown  should  be  vested 
in  a  person  different  from  the  ruler  of 
France. 

Upon  hearing  of  this  new  usurpation, 
made  at  the  very  time  when  Napoleon's 
steps  towards  the  aggrandisement  of  his 
power  were  under  challenge,  Russia  coun- 
termanded her  ambassador ;  and  Austria, 
after  the  exchange  of  some  more  angry 
Botes,  began  her  daring  enterprise  by  march- 
VoL.  I.  S 


ing  a  large  army  upon  Bavaria.  It  would 
have  been  better,  probably,  had  the  Empe- 
ror Francis  suspended  this  decisive  meas- 
ure, and  continued  to  protract,  if  possible, 
the  negotiation,  until  the  Russiaii  auxiliary 
armies,  two  in  number,  of  fifty  thousand 
men  each,  could  have  advanced  to  the  as- 
sistance of  their  allies  ;  or  until  a  sense  of 
the  approaching  crisis  had  removed  the  in- 
decision in  the  Prussian  councils,  and  in- 
duced the  King  to  join  the  coalition.  Ei- 
ther of  these  events,  and  more  especially 
both,  might  have  given  a  very  different 
turn  to  this  disastrous  campaign. 

But  Austria  was  not  alone  to  be  blamed 
for  precipitating  the  war — she  exposed  her- 
self to  censure  by  the  mode  in  which  she 
conducted  it.  Occupying  Bavaria  with  nu- 
merous forces,  the  Elector  was  required  to 
join  the  confederacy.  Maximilian  of  Ba- 
varia was  not  disinclined  to  unite  his  forces 
with  those  which  proposed  for  their  object 
the  defence  of  Germany;  but  he  pleaded 
that  his  son,  now  travelling  in  France, 
would  be  made  responsible,  should  he  join 
the  coalition.  "  On  rny  knees,"  he  said, 
in  a  letter  to  the  Emperor  Francis,  "  I  im- 
plore you  for  permission  to  remain  neutral." 
His  reasonable  request  was  rejected,  and 
the  Elector  was  required  to  join  the  con- 
federacy with  a  violence  of  urgency,  both 
unjust  and  impolitic.  He  was  farther  given 
to  understand,  that  his  troops  would  not  be 
permitted  to  remain  as  a  separate  army, 
but  must  be  incorporated  with  those  of 
Austria.  These  were  terms  so  harsh,  as  to 
render  even  the  precarious  alliance  of 
France  preferable  to  submission.  Maxi- 
milian, retreating  from  his  capital  of  Mu- 
nich to  Wurtzburg,  and  withdrawing  his 
army  into  Franconia,  again  endeavoured  to 
negotiate  for  neutrality.  It  was  again  im- 
periously refused ;  and  while  the  Austrian 
government  insisted  that  the  Elector  should 
join  them  with  his  whole  forces,  the  Aus- 
trian troops  were  permitted  to  conduct 
themselves  as  in  an  enemy's  country  ;  re- 
quisitions were  raised,  and  other  measures 
resorted  to,  tending  to  show  that  the  inva- 
ders remembered  the  ancient  grudge  which 
had  so  long  subsisted  between  Bavaria  and 
Austria.  It  was  natural  that  the  Bavarian 
prince,  incensed  at  this  treatment,  should 
regard  the  allies  as  enemies,  ajd  wait  the 
arrival  of  the  French  as  liberators. 

The  military  inanucuvrea  of  the  Austriaa 
army  were  not  more  able,  than  her  conduct 
towards  the  neutral  state  of  Bavaria  was 
politic  or  just.  There  are  two  errors, 
equally  fptal,  into  which  a  general  of  mid- 
dling or  inferior  talent  is  apt  to  fall,  vyhen 
about  to  encounter  v.'ith  an  adversary  of 
genius.  If  he  mixes  presumption  with  ^is 
weakness  of  parts,  he  will  ojidnavour  to 
calculate  the  probable  motions  of  his  an- 
tagonist; and  having,  as  he  supposes,  as- 
certained what  thev  are  likely  to  bo,  will 
attempt  to  anticipate  and  interrupt  them, 
and  thereby  expose  himself  to  some  8ign;il 
disaster,  by  mistaking  the  principle  on 
which  his  enemy  desic^ns  to  act.  Or,  if  in- 
timidated by  the  reputation  of  the  crm- 
mander  opgosed  to  him,  such  a  geoerai  's 


ilii 


LIFE  OF  JS'APOLEOlN  BUOiNAFARTE. 


[CUap.  XLIX 


aptitirc.nain  passive  and  irresolute,  until 
the  motions  of  the  enemy  make  his  purpose 
evident,  at  a  time  when  it  is  probably  im- 
possible to  prevent  his  attaining  it.  It  was 
left  for  General  Mack,  within  the  space  of 
a  ver}  brief  campaign,  to  unite  both  char- 
acters ;  and  fall  first  into  errors  of  rashness 
and  presumption,  afterwards  into  those  of 
indecision  and  cowardice. 

It  required  little  experience  to  know, 
'hat,  after  two  singularly  unfortunate  wars, 
every  precaution  should  have  been  taken 
to  bring  the  Austrian  troops  into  contact 
with  their  enemy,  under  such  advantages 
of  position  and  numbers  as  might  counter- 
balance the  feelings  of  discouragement 
with  which  the  bravest  soldiers  must  be 
affected,  in  consequence  of  a  course  of  de- 
feat and  disaster  so  uniform,  that  there 
seemed  tn  be  a  fate  in  it.  In  tliis  point  of 
view,  the  Austrian  armies  ought  to  have 
halted  on  their  own  territories,  where  the 
river  Inn  forms  a  strong  and  excellent  line 
of  defence,  extending  betwixt  the  Tyrol  and 
the  Danube,  into  which  the  Inn  empties  it- 
self at  Passau.  Supposing  Mack's  large 
force  concentrated,  with  this  formidable 
barrier  in  front,  it  seems  as  if  the  Austrians 
might  have  easily  maintained  a  defensive 
position  until  the  armies  of  Russia  appear- 
ed to  support  them. 

If,  determined  upon  the  imperious  and 
unjust  aggression  on  Bavaria,  Mack  found 
it  necessary  to  advance  more  to  the  west- 
ward than  the  line  of  the  Inn,  in  order  to 
secure  the  country  of  the  Elector,  the 
Lech,  in  its  turn,  offered  him  a  position  in' 
which  he  might  have  awaited  the  Russians, 
though  their  junction  must  necessarily  have 
been  protracted,  in  proportion  to  the  ex- 
tent of  his  advance.  But  it  was  the  choice 
of  this  unlucky  tactician  to  leave  Bavaria 
also  behind  him,  and,  approaching  the 
frontiers  of  France,  to  take  possession  of 
Ulra,  Memoiingen,  and  the  line  of  the  Iller 
and  Danube,  where  he  fortified  himself 
with  great  care,  as  if  to  watch  the  defiles 
of  the  Black  Forest.  It  can  only  be  thought 
by  those  who  judged  most  favourably  of 
Mack's  intentions,  that,  as  the  passes  of 
that  celebrated  forest  had  been  frequently 
the  route  by  which  the  French  invaded 
Germany,  he  had  concluded  it  nust  there- 
fore be  by  th-.t  road,  and  no  other,  that  their 
approach  on  the  present  occasion  was  to  be 
expected.  Knowing  with  whom  he  had  to 
contend,  the  Austrian  general  ought  to  have 
suspected  the  direct  contrary  ;  for  Buona- 
parte's manoauvres  were  nr.t  more  distin- 
guished by  talents,  than  by  novelty  and 
originality  of  design. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  great 
confederacy  took  at  unawares  one  who  had 
80  many  reasons  for  being  alert.  The  Aus- 
trian forces,  thougii  they  had  commenced 
the  campaign  so  hastily,  were  not  more 
early  read>'  for  the  field,  than  were  the  im- 
mense armies  of  the  French  empire.  The 
camps  at  Boulogne,  so  long  assembled  on 
the  shores  of  the  Channel,  were  now  to  be 
relieved  from  their  inactivity  ;  and,  serious 
as  the  danger  was  in  which  their  assistance 
was  required,  Buonaparte  was  perhaps  not 


displeased  at  finding  a  fair  pretext  to  with- 
draw from  the  invasion  to  which  he  had 
hastily  pledged  himself.  Tins  formidable 
assemblage  of  troops,  laying  aside  the  ap- 
pellation of  the  Army  ofEngland,  was  here- 
after distinguished  by  that  of  the  Grand 
Army.  At  the  same  time,  the  armies  main- 
tained in  Holland,  and  in  the  North  of  Ger- 
many, were  put  into  motion. 

In  this  remarkable  campaign  Buonaparte 
commenced,  for  the  first  time,  the  system 
of  issuing  official  bulletins,  for  the  purpose 
of  announcing  to  the  French  nation  his  ac- 
counts of  success,  and  impressing  upon  the 
public  mind  what  truths  he  desired  them  to 
know,  and  at  the  same  time,  what  false- 
hoods he  was  desirous  they  should  believe. 
In  every  country,  such  official  accounts  will 
naturally  have  a  partial  character,  as  every 
government  must  desire  to  represent  the 
result  of  its  measures  in  as  favourable  a 
light  as  possible.  Where  there  is  a  free 
press,  however,  the  deception  cannot  be  car- 
ried to  extremity  ;  imposture  cannot  be  at- 
tempted, on  a  grand  scale  at  least,  where  it 
can  be  contrasted  with  other  sources  of  in- 
formation, or  refuted  by  arguments  derived 
from  evidence.  But  Buonaparte  had  the 
unlimited  and  exclusive  privilege  of  saying 
what  he  pleased,  without  contradiction  or 
commentary,  and  he  was  liberal  in  using  a 
licence  which  could  not  be  checked.  Yet 
his  bulletins  are  valuable  historical  doc- 
uments as  well  as  the  papers  in  the  Moni- 
teur,  which  he  himself  frequently  composed 
or  superintended.  Much  correct  informa- 
tion there  certainly  is ;  and  that  which  is 
less  accurate  is  interesting,  since  it  shows, 
if  not  actual  truths,  at  least  what  Napoleon 
desired  should  be  received  as  such,  and 
so  throws  considerable  light  both  on  his 
schemes  and  on  his  character. 

Buonaparte  communicated  to  the  Senate 
the  approach  of  war,  by  a  report,  dated  22d 
September,  in  which,  acquainting  them 
with  the  cause  of  quarrel  betwixt  himself 
and  the  allied  powers,  he  asked,  and  of 
course  obtained,  two  decrees  ;  one  for  or- 
dering eighty  thousand  conscripts  to  the 
field,  another  for  the  organization  of  tbe^ 
National  Guard.  He  then  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  his  forces,  and  proceeded  to 
achieve  the  destruction  of  Mack's  army, 
not  as  at  Marengo  by  one  great  general 
battle,  but  by  a  series  of  grand  manoeuvres 
and  a  train  of  partial  actions  necessary  to 
execute  them,  which  rendered  resistance 
and  retreat  alilte  impossible.  These  ma- 
noeuvres we  can  only  indicate,  nor  can  they 
perhaps  bo  well  understood  without  the  as- 
sistance of  the  map. 

While  Mack  expected  the  approach  of 
the  French  upon  his  front,  Buonaparte  had 
formed  the  daring  resolution  to  turn  the 
flank  of  the  Austrian  general,  cut  him  off 
from  his  country  and  his  resources,  and  re- 
duce him  to  the  necessity,  either  of  surren- 
der, or  o^  giving  battle  without  a  hope  of 
success.  To  execute  this  great  concep- 
tion, the  French  army  was  parted  into  sii 
grand  divisions.  That  of  Bernadotte,evao» 
uatir.jT  Hanover  which  it  had  hitherto  o<^ 
cupied,  and  traversing  Hesse,  seemed  as  if 


Chap.  XLIX] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


411 


about   to   unite   itself  to   the   main  army, 
which  had  iiow  reached  the  Rhine  on  all 
points.     But  its  real  destination  was  soon 
determined,  when,  turning  towards  the  left, 
Bernadotte  ascended  the  river  Maine,  and 
at  Wurtzburg  formed  a  junction  with  the 
Elector  of  Bavaria,  who,  with  the  troops 
which    had  followed  him  into   Franconia, 
immediately  declared  for  the  French  cause. 
The  Elector  of  Wirtemberg  and  the  Duke 
of  Baden  followed  the  same  line  of  politics  ; 
and  thus  Austria  had  arrayed  against  her 
those  very  German  princes,  whom  a  mode- 
rate conduct  towards  Bavaria  might  perhaps 
have  rendered  neutral  ;  France,  at  the  out- 
set of  the  contest,  scarce  having  the  power 
to  compel  them  to  join  her  standard.     The 
other  five  columns  of  French  troops,  under 
Ney,  Soult,  Davoust.  Vandamme,  and  Mar- 
mont,  crossed  the  Rhine  at  different  points, 
and  entered  Germany  to  the  northward  of 
Mack's  position  ;  while  Murat,  who  made 
his  passage  at  Kehl,  approaching  the  Black 
Forest,  manoeuvred  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
confirm  Mack  in  his  belief  that  the  main  at- 
tack was  to  como  from  that  quarter.     But 
the  direction  of  all  the  other  divisions  inti- 
mated that  it  was  the  object  of  the  French 
Emperor   to  move  round  the  right  wing  of 
the  Austrians,  by  keeping  on  the  north  or 
left  side  of  the  Danube,  and  then  by  crossing 
that  river,  to  put  themselves  in  the  rear  of 
Mack's  army,  and  interpose  betwixt  him 
and  Vienna.      For  this  purpose,  Soult  who 
had  crossed  at  Spires,  directed  his  march 
upon   Augsburg ;    while,   to   interrupt   the 
communication  betwixt  that  city  and  Ulm, 
the  Austrian  head-quarters,  Murat  and  Lan- 
nes  had  advanced  to  Wertingen,  where  a 
smart  action  took  place.      The  .\ustrians 
lost  all  their  cannon,  and  it  was  said  four 
thousand  men — an  ominous  commencement 
of  the  campaign.      The  action  would  have 
been  termed  a  battle,  had  the  armies  been 
on  a  smaller  scale  ;  but  where  such   great 
numbers  were  engaged  on  either  side,  it 
did  not  rank  much  above  a  skirmish. 

With  the  same  purpose  of  disquieting 
Mack  In  his  head-quarters,  and  preventing 
him  from  attending  to  what  passed  on  his 
left  wing  and  rear.  Ney,  who  advanced  from 
Stutgard,  attacked  the  bridges  over  the 
Danube  at  Guntzburg.  which  were  gallant- 
ly but  fruitlessly  defended  by  the  .\rchduke 
Ferdinand,  who  had  advanced  from  Ulm  to 
that  place.  The  Archduke  lost  many  guns, 
and  nearly  three  thousand  men. 

In  the  meantime,  an  operation  took  place, 
which  marked  in  the  most  striking  manner 
the  inflexible  and  decisive  character  of  Na- 
poleon's counsels,  compared  with  those  of 
the  ancient  courts  of  Europe.     To  accom- 
plish the  French  plan,  of  interposing  be- 
twixt Mack  and  the  supplies  and  reinforce- 
ments, both  Austrian  and  Russian,  which 
were  in  motion  towards  him,  it  was  neces- 
sary that  all  the  French  divisions  should  be 
directed  upon  Nordlingen,  and  particularly  i 
that  the  division  under  Bernadotte,  which  ' 
now  included  the  Bavarian  troops,  should  \ 
accomplish   a  simuUareous  movement  in  i 
that  direction.     But  there  was  no  time  for  j 
the  last-mentioned  general  to  get  into  the  ! 


desired   position,   unless  by  violating  the 
neutrality  of  Prussia,  and  taking  the  straight 
road  to  the  scene  of  operations,  by  march- 
ing through  the  territories  of  Anspach  and 
Bareuth,  belonging  to  that  power.      A  less 
daring  general,  a  more  timid  politician  than 
Napoleon,  would  have  hesitated  to  commit 
such   an    aggression   at    such   a   moment. 
Prussia,  undecided  in  her  counsels,  was  yet 
known   to  be    in   point   of  national   spirit 
hostilely  disposed  towards  France  j  and  a 
marked  outrage  of  this  nature  was  likely  to 
raise  the  indignation  of  the  people  in  gene- 
ral to  a  point  which  Haugwitz  and  his  party 
might  be  unable  to  stem.    The  junction  of 
Prussia  with  the  allies  at  a  moment  so  crit- 
ical, might  be  decisive  of  the  fate  of  the 
campaign,  and  well  if  the  loss  ended  there. 
Yet  with  these  consequences  before  his 
eyes.  Napoleon  knew,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  it  was  not  want  of  pretexts  to  go  to 
war  which  prevented  Prussia  from  drawing 
the  sword,  but  diffidence  in  the  power  of 
the  allies  to  resist  the  arms  and  fortune  of 
France.     If,  therefore, by  violating  the  terri- 
tory of  Prussia,  he  should  be  able  to  inflict 
a  sudden  and  terrible  blow  upon  the  allies, 
he  reckoned  truly  that  the  court  of  Berlin 
would  be  more  astounded  at  his  success, 
than  irritated  at  the  means  which  he  had 
taken  to  obtain  it.     Bernadotte  received, 
therefore,   the     Emperor's    commands    to 
march  through  the  territory  of  Anspacli  and 
Bareuth,   which   were   only   defended    by 
idle  protests  and  reclamations  of  the  rights 
of  neutrality.     The  news  of  this  aggression 
gave  the  utmost  offence   at  the  Prussian 
court ;  and  the  call  for  war,  which  alone 
could  right  their  injured  honour,  became 
almost  unanimous  through  the  nation.     But 
while  the  general  irritation,  which  Buona- 
parte  of  course   foresaw,  was  thus  taking 
place  on  the  one  side,  the  success  which 
he  had  achieved  over  the  Austrians  acted 
on  the  other  as  a  powerful  sedative. 

The  spirit  of  enterprise  had  deserted 
Mack  as  soon  as  actual  hostilities  com- 
menced. With  the  usual  fault  of  Austrian 
generals,  he  had  extended  his  position  too 
far,  and  embraced  too  many  poi;it8  of  de- 
fence, rendering  his  communications  diffi- 
cult, and  offering  facilitioa  for  Buonaparte's 
favourite  tactics,  of  ^xttacking  and  de.nroy- 
ing  in  detail  the  divisions  opposed  to  him. 
The  defeat  at  Guntzburg  induced  Mack  at 
length  to  concentrate  his  army  around 
Ulm  ;  but  Bavaria  and  Suabia  were  now 
fully  in  possession  of  the  French  and  Ba- 
varians ;  and  the  .\ustrian  general  Spangen- 
berg.  surrounded  in  Memmingen,  was  com- 
pelled to  lay  down  hia  arms  with  five  thou- 
sand men.  The  French  had  crossed  the 
Rhine  about  the  Sfith  September;  it  was 
now  the  I3th  October,  and  they  could 
scarcely  be  said  to  have  begun  the  campaign, 
when  they  had  made,  on  various  points,  not 
fewer  than  twenty  thousand  prisoners.  Na 
poleon,  however,  expected  that  resistance 
from  Mack's  despair  which  no  other  motive 
had  yet  engaged  him  to  offer;  and  he  an- 
nounced to  his  army  tho  prospect  of  a  gen 
eral  action.  He  callcil  on  his  soldiers  to 
revenge  themselves  on  the  Austrians  for 


41-^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOIS  BL  ONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  XLIX, 


the  loss  of  the  plunder  of  London,  of  which, 
but  for  this  new  continental  wai-,  they 
would  have  been  already  in  possession.  He 
pointed  out  to  them,  that,  as  at  Marengo, 
be  had  cut  the  enemy  off  from  his  reserves 
and  resources,  and  he  summoned  them  to 
signalize  Ulm  by  a  battle,  which  should  be 
yet  more  decisive. 

No  general  action,  however,  took  place, 
though  several  sanguinary  affairs  of  a  par- 
tial nature  were  fought,  and  terminated  uni- 
formly to  the  misfortune  of  the  Austrians. 
In  the  meantime,  disunion  took  place 
among  their  generals.  The  Archduke  Fer- 
dinand, Schwartzenberg,  afterwards  des- 
tined to  play  a  remarkable  part  in  this 
changeful  history,  with  Collowrath  and 
others,  seeing  themselves  invested  by  toils 
which  were  daily  narrowed  upon  them,  re- 
solved to  leave  Mack  and  his  army,  and 
cut  their  way  into  Bohemia  at  the  head  of 
the  cavalry.  The  Archduke  executed  this 
movement  with  the  greatest  gallantry,  but 
not  without  considerable  loss.  Indeed,  the 
behaviour  of  the  Austrian  princes  of  the 
blood  throughout  these  wars  was  such,  as 
if  Fate  had  meant  to  mitigate  the  disasters 
of  the  Imperial  House,  by  showing  forth 
the  talents  and  bravery  of  their  ancient 
race,  and  proving,  that  altheugh  Fortune 
frowned  on  them,  Honour  remained  faith- 
ful to  their  line.  Ferdinand,  after  much 
fighting,  and  considerable  damage  done 
and  received,  at  length  brought  six  thou- 
sand cavalry  in  safety  to  Egra,  in  Bohe- 
mia. 

Meanwhile,  Mack  found  himself,  with 
the  remains  of  his  army,  cooped  up  in  Ulm, 
as  Wurmser  had  been  in  Mantua.  He  pub- 
lished an  order  of  the  day,  which  intimated 
an  intention  to  imitate  the  persevering  de- 
fence of  that  heroic  veteran.  He  forbade 
the  word  surrender  to  be  used  by  any  one 
— he  announced  the  arrival  of  two  power- 
t'ul  armies,  one  of  Austrians,  one  of  Rus- 
sians, whose  appearance  would  presently 
raise  the  blockade — he  declared  his  deter- 
mination to  eat  horse-flesh  rather  than  lis- 
ten to  any  terms  of  capitulation.  This  bra- 
vado appeared  on  the  16th  October,  and  the 
conditions  of  surrender  were  subscribed  by 
Mack  on  the  next  day,  having  been  proba- 
bly in  the  course  of  adjustment  when  he  was 
making  these  notable  professions  of  resist- 
ance. 

The  course  of  military  misconduct  which 
we  have  traced,  singular  as  it  is,  might 
be  perhaps  referred  to  folly  or  incapacity 
on  the  part  of  Mack,  though  it  must  be 
owned  it  was  of  that  gross  kind  which  ci- 
vilians considered  as  equal  to  fraud.  But 
another  circumstance  remains  to  be  told, 
which  goes  far  to  prove  that  this  once  cel- 
ebrated and  trusted  general  had  ingrafted 
the  traitor  upon  the  fool.  The  terms  of 
capitulation,  as  subscribed  on  the  17th  Oc- 
tober, bore,  that  there  should  be  an  armis- 
tice until  26th  October  at  midnight;  and 
that  if,  during  this  space,  an  Austrian  or 
Russian  army  should  appear  to  raise  the 
blockade,  the  army  at  Ulm  should  have 
liberty  to  join  them,  with  their  arms  and 
baggage.     This  stipulation    allowed    the 


Austrian  soldiers  some  hope  of  relief,  and 
in  any  event  it  was  sure  to  interrupt  the 
progress  of  Buonaparte's  successes,  by  de- 
taining the  principal  part  of  his  army  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Ulm,  until  the  term  of 
nine  days  was  expired.  But  Mack  con- 
sented to  a  revision  of  these  terms,  a  thing 
i  which  would  scarcely  have  been  proposed 
to  a  man  of  honour,  and  signed  on  the  19lh 
a  second  capitulation,  by  which  he  con- 
sented to  evacuate  Ulm  on  the  day  follow- 
ing j  thus  abridging  considerably,  at  a  cri- 
sis when  every  minute  was  precious,  any 
advantage,  direct  or  contingent,  which  the 
Austrians  could  have  derived  from  the  de- 
lay originally  stipulated.  No  reason  haa 
ever  been  alleged  for  this  concession. 
Buonaparte,  indeed,  had  given  Mack  an 
audience  previous  to  the  signing  of  this  ad- 
ditional article  of  capitulation,  and  what  ar- 
guments he  then  employed  must  be  left  to 
conjecture. 

The  effects  of  Mack's  poltroonery,  want 
of  skill,  and  probable  treachery,  were 
equal  to  the  results  of  a  great  victory. 
Artillery,  baggage,  and  military  stores, 
were  given  up  to  an  immense  extent. 
Eight  general  officers  surrendered  upon 
parole,  upwards  of  20,000  men  became 
prisoners  of  war,  and  were  marched  into 
France.  The  numbers  of  the  prisoners 
taken  in  this  campaign  were  so  great,  that 
Buonaparte  distributed  them  amongst  the 
agriculturists,  that  their  work  in  the  fields 
might  make  up  for  the  absence  of  the  con- 
scripts, whom  he  had  withdrawn  from  such 
labour.  The  experiment  was  successful ; 
and  from  the  docile  habits  of  the  Germans, 
and  the  good-humour  of  their  French  em- 
ployers, this  new  species  of  servitude  suit- 
ed both  parties,  and  went  some  length  to 
soften  the  hardships  of  war.  For  not  the 
field  of  battle  itself,  with  its  wounded  and 
dead,  is  a  more  distressing  sight  to  hu- 
manity and  reflection,  than  prison-barracks 
and  hulks,  in  which  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  prisoners  are  delivered  up  to  idle- 
ness, and  all  the  evils  which  idleness  is 
sure  to  introduce,  and  not  unfrequeijtly  to 
disease  and  death.  Buonaparte  meditated 
introducing  this  alteration  into  the  usages 
of  w;ir  upon  a  great  scale,  and  thought  of 
regimenting  his  prisoners  for  the  purpose 
of  labouring  on  public  works.  His  jurists 
objected  to  the  proposal  as  contrary  to  the 
law  of  nations.  This  scruple  might  have 
been  avoided,  by  employing  only  volunteers, 
which  would  also  have  prevented  the  ap- 
pearance of  retrograding  towards  those 
barbarous  times,  when  the  captive  of  the 
sword  became  the  slave  of  his  victor.  But 
national  character  would,  in  most  instances 
render  the  scheme  impracticable.  Thu^ 
an  attempt  was  afterwards  made  to  dispose 
of  the  Spanish  prisoners  in  a  similar  way, 
who  in  most  cases  made  their  escape,  and 
in  some  rose  upon  and  destroyea  their 
task-masters.  A  French  soldier  would,  in 
like  manner,  make  an  indifferent  serf  to  an 
English  farmer,  an  English  prisoner  a  still 
more  intractable  assistant  to  a  French  ag- 
riculturist. The  advantages  of  comparative 
freedom  would  be  ia  both  cases  counter- 


Chap.  L] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


413 


balanced,  by    a  feeling  of  degradation  in 
the  personal  subjection  experienced. 

When  the  general  officers  of  the  Austri- 
ans  were  admitted  to  a  personal  interview 
with  the  French  Emperor,  he  behaved  with 
courtesy  toKlenau  and  others  of  reputation, 
•whose  character  had  become  known  to  him 
in  the  Italian  campaigns.  But  he  com- 
plained of  the  politics  of  their  court,  which 
he  said  had  forced  him  into  war  when  he 
knew  not  what  he  was  fighting  for.  He 
prophesied  the  fall  of  the  House  of  Austria, 
unless  his  brother  the  Emperor  hastened 
to  make  peace,  and  reprobated  the  policy 
which  brought  the  uncivilized  Russians  to 
interfere  in  the  decision  of  more  cultivated 
countries  than  their  own.  Mack*  had  the 
imprudence  to  reply,  that  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  had  been  forced  into  the  war  by 


*  It  will  be  unnecessary  again  to  mentioo  this 
nmo's  name,  of  which  our  readers  are  doubtless 
lu  much  lited  as  we  ourselves  are.    He  was  corn- 


Russia.  "  Then,"  said  Napoleon,  "  you  no 
longer  exist  as  an  independent  power." 
The  whole  conversation  appeared  in  the 
bulletin  of  the  day,  which  also  insinuates, 
with  little  probability,  that  the  Austrian  of- 
ficers and  soldiers  concurred  generally  in 
blaming  the  alliance  between  their  own 
Emperor  and  Alexander.  From  this  we  in- 
fer, that  the  union  between  those  two  pow- 
erful sovereigns  was,  even  in  the  moment 
of  this  great  success,  a  subject  of  appre- 
hension to  Buonaparte ;  whose  official 
notes  are  sometimes  expressed  with  gene- 
rosity towards  the  vanquished,  who  had 
ceased  to  struggle,  but  always  with  an  eager 
tone  of  reproach  and  offence  towards  those 
from  whom  an  animated  resistance  was  to 
be  apprehended. 

mittcd  to  a  state  prison,  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
Austrian  dominions  ;  and  whether  he  died  in  cap- 
tivity, or  was  set  at  liberty,  we  have  not  learned, 
nor  are  we  anxious  to  know. 


CHAP.  L. 

Potilion  of  the  French  Armies. — Napoleon  advances  towards  Vienna. —  The  Emperor 
Francis  leaves  his  Capital.— French  enter  Vienna  on  the  iSth  November. — Review  of 
the  French  Successes  in  Italy  and  the  Tyrol. — Schemes  of  Napoleon  to  force  on  a  gen- 
eral Battle— He  succeeds. — Battle  of  Austerlitz  is  fought  on  the  2d  December,  and  the 
combined  Austro- Russian  Armies  completely  defeated. — Interview  betwixt  the  Empe- 
ror of  Austria  and  Napoleon. —  The  Emperor  Alexander  retreats  towards  Russia. — 
Treaty  of  Presburgh  signed  on  the  26th  December — Its  Conditions. — Fate  of  the  King 
of  Sweden — and  of  the  Two  Sicilies. 

The  tide  of  war  now  rolled  eastward,  hav- 
ing surmounted  and  utterly  demolished  the 
formidable  barrier  which  was  opposed  to  it. 
Napoleon  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his 
central  army.  Ney,  upon  his  right,  was 
ready  to  repel  any  descent  which  might  be 
made  from  the  passes  of  the  Tyrol.  Murat, 
on  his  left,  watched  the  motions  of  the  Aus- 
trians>  under  the  Archduke  Ferdinand,  who, 
refusing  to  join  in  the  unworthy  capilula- 
tjoa  o*"  Ulm,  had  cut  their  way  into  Bohe- 
mia, and  there  united  themselves  with  oth- 
er forces,  either  stationed  in  that  kingdom, 
or  who  had,  like  themselves,  escaped  thith- 
er. Lastly,  the  division  of  Augereau  (who 
had  recently  advanced  from  France  at  the 
head  of  an  army  of  reserve,)  occupying  part 
of  Swabia,  served  to  protect  the  rear  of  the 
French  array  against  any  movement  from 
the  Vorarlberg  ;  and  at  the  same  time  men- 
aced the  Prussians,  in  case,  acting  upon  the 
offence  given  by  the  violation  of  their  terri- 
tory, they  should  have  crossed  the  Danube, 
and  engaged  in  the  war. 

If,  however,  the  weight  of  Prussia  had 
been  thrown  into  the  scale  with  sufficient 
energy  at  this  decisive  moment,  it  would 
not  probably  have  been  any  resistance  which 
Augereau  co  jld  have  offered  that  could  have 
saTed  Napoleon  from  a  perilous  situation, 
since  the  large  armies  of  the  new  enemy 
would  have  been  placed  in  his  rear,  and, 
of  course,  his  communications  with  France 
entirely  cut  off.  It  was  a  crisis  of  the  same 
kind  which  opened  to  Austria  in  the  year 
1813 ;  but  she  was  then  taught  wisdom  by 
experience,  and  availed  herself  of  the  gold- 


en opportunity  which  Prussia  now  suffered 
to  escape.  Buonaparte  had  reckoned  with 
accuracy  upon  the  timid  and  fluctuating 
councils  of  that  power.  The  aggression  on 
their  territories  of  Anspach  and  Bareuth 
was  learned  at  Berlin ;  but  then  the  news 
of  the  calamity  sustained  by  the  Austrians 
at  Ulm  succeeded  these  tidings  almost  in- 
stantly, and  while  the  first  article  of  intel- 
ligence seemed  to  urge  instant  hostilities, 
the  next  was  calculated  to  warn  them 
against  espousing  a  losing  cause. 

Thus  trusting  to  the  vacillating  and  tim- 
id policy  of  Prussia,  Napoleon,  covered  on 
his  flank  and  rear  as  we  have  stated,  con- 
tinued to  push  forward  with  his  central  for- 
ces towards  Vienna,  menaced  repeatedly  in 
the  former  wars,  but  whose  fate  seemed  de- 
cided aiXer  the  disaster  of  Ulm.  It  is  true, 
that  an  army,  partly  consisting  of  Russians 
and  partly  of  Austrians,  had  pressed  forward 
to  prevent  that  disgraceful  calamity,  and, 
finding  that  the  capitulation  had  taken 
place,  were  now  retreating  step  by  step  in 
front  of  the  advancing  French  ;  but,  not  ex- 
ceeding forty-five  thousand  men,  they  were 
unable  to  make  any  effectual  stand  upon 
the.  Inn,  the  Traun,  the  Ens,  or  in  any  other 
position  which  might  have  covered  Vienna. 
They  halted,  indeed,  repeatedly,  made  a 
considerable  show  of  resistance,  and  fought 
some  severe  though  partial  actions  ;  but 
alwavs  ended  by  continuing  their  retreat, 
which  was  now  directed  upon  Moravia, 
where  the  Grand  Russian  army  had  already 
assembled,  under  the  command  of  the  Em- 
peror Alexander,  and  were  expecting  still 


414 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  L. 


further  reinforcements  under  General  Bux- 
howden. 

Some  attempts  were  made  to  place  Vien- 
na in  a  state  of  defence,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants were  called  upon  to  rise  in  mass  for 
that  purpose.  But  as  the  fortifications  were 
OHcient  and  in  disrepair,  an  effort  at  resist- 
ance could  only  have  occasioned  the  de- 
struction oftliecity.  The  Emperor  Fran- 
cis saw  himself,  therefore,  under  the  neces- 
sity of  endeavouring  to  provide  for  the  safe- 
ty of  his  capital  by  negotiation,  and  for  that 
of  his  person  by  leaving  it.  On  the  7th  No- 
vember, accordingly,  he  departed  from  Vi- 
enna for  Brunn  in  Moravia,  in  order  to  place 
himself  under  the  protection  of  the  Russian 
forces. 

On  the  same  day,  but  late  in  the  evening, 
Count  Giulay  arrived  at  Buonaparte's  head- 
quarters, then  established  at  Lintz,  with  a 
proposal  for  an  armistice,  previous  to  a  gen- 
eral negotiation  for  peace.  Napoleon  re- 
fused to  listen  to  the  proposal  unless  V^e- 
nice  and  the  Tyrol  were  put  into  his  hands. 
These  terms  were  too  hard  to  be  accepted. 
Vienna,  therefore,  was  left  to  its  l^te  ;  and 
that  proud  capital  of  the  proud  House  of 
Austria  remained  an  unresisting  prize  to  the 
invaders. 

On  the  13th  November  the  French  took 
possession  of  Vienna,  where  they  obtained 
an  immense  quantity  of  military  stores, 
arms,  and  clothing;  a  part  of  which  spoils 
were  bestowed  by  Napoleon  on  his  ally 
the  Elector  of  Bavaria,  who  now  witnessed 
the  humiliation  of  the  Imperial  House 
which  had  of  late  conducted  itself  so  haugh- 
tily towards  him.  General  Clarke  was 
appointed  Governor  of  Vienna  ;  and  by  a 
change  as  rapid  as  if  it  had  talten  place  on 
the  stage,  the  new  Emperor  of  France  oc- 
cupied Schonbrunn,  the  splendid  palace  of 
the  long-descended  Emperor  of  Austria. 
But  though  such  signal  successes  liad  crown- 
ed the  commencement  of  the  campaign,  it 
was  necessary  to  defeat  the  haughty  Rus- 
sians, in  whose  aid  the  Emperor  of  Austria 
still  confidec,  before  the  object  of  the  war 
could  be  considered  as  attained.  The  bro- 
ken and  shattered  remnant  of  the  Austrian 
forces  had  rallied  from  different  quarters 
around  the  yet  untouched  army  of  Alexan- 
der ;  and  although  the  latter  retreated  from 
Brunn  towards  Olmutz,  it  was  only  with  the 
purpose  of  forming  a  junction  with  Bu.vhow- 
den,  before  they  hazarded  a  general  battle. 
In  the  meantime,  the  French  army  folio w- 
f  ing  close  on  their  back  into  Moravia,  fought 
;  one  or  two  partial  actions,  which,  thougn 
claimed  as  victories,  were  so  severely  dis- 
puted as  to  make  Napoleon  aware  that  he 
had  to  do  with  a  more  obstinate  enemy  than 
he  had  of  late  encountered  in  tlie  dispirit- 
ed Austrians.  He  waited,  therefore,  until 
the  result  of  his  skilful  combinations  should 
have  drawn  around  him  the  greatest  force  he 
could  expect  to  collect,  ere  venturing  upon 
an  engagement,  of  wiiich,  if  he  failed  to  ob- 
tain a  decisive  victory,  the  consequences 
were  likely  to  be  fatal  to  him. 

At  this  period,  success  had  smiled  on  the 
French  in  Italy,  and  in  the  Tyrol,  as  well 
as  in  Germany.    In  the  former  country,  it 


may  be  remembered  that  the  Archduke 
Charles,  at  the  head  of  seventy-five  or  eigh- 
ty thousand  men,  exclusive  of  garrisons,  was 
opposed  to  Massena,  whose  forces  consider- 
ably exceeded  that  amount.  The  Prince 
occupied  the  left  bank  of  the  Adige,  with 
the  purpose  of  maintaining  a  defensive  war- 
fare, until  he  should  hear  news  of  the  cam- 
paign in  Germany.  Massena,  hosvever,  af- 
ter some  fighting,  succeeded  in  forcing  the 
passage  of  the  river  at  Verona,  and  in  oc- 
cupying the  town  of  St.  Michael.  This  was 
on  the  l20lh  October.  Soon  afterwards,  the 
account  of  the  surrender  at  Ulm  reached 
the  Frenchman,  and  determined  him  on  a 
general  attack  along  the  whole  Austrian 
line,  which  was  strongly  posted  near  Cal- 
diero.  The  assault  took  place  on  the  30th 
October,  and  was  followed  by  a  very  despe- 
rate action  ;  for  the  Austriant.  confident  in 
the  presence  of  their  favourite  commander, 
fought  with  the  greatest  courage.  They 
were,  however,  defeated;  and  a  column  of 
five  thousand  men,  under  General  Hellin- 
ger,  deta,ched  for  the  purpose  of  attacking 
the  French  in  the  rear,  failed  in  their  pur- 
pose, and,  being  themselves  surrounded, 
were  obliged  to  lay  down  their  arms.  The 
victors  were  joined  by  General  St.  Cyr,  at 
the  head  of  twenty-five  thousand  men^  who 
had  evacuated  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  up- 
on a  treaty  of  neutrality  entered  into  with 
the  King,  and  now  came  to  join  their  coun- 
trymen in  Lombardy. 

In  the  midst  of  his  own  misfortunes,  the 
Archdu  te  Charles  received  tlie  fatal  intel- 
ligence of  the   capitulation   of  Ulm,   and 
that  the    French    were    advancing  in  full 
march    towards    Vienna.     To    cover    his 
brother's  capital  became  a  matter  of  more 
pressing  necessity  than  to  attempt  to  con- 
tinue the  defence  of  Italy,  which  circum- 
stances rendered  almost  hopeless.  He  com- 
menced his  retreat,  therefore,  on  the  night 
of  the  1st  of  November,  determining  to  con- 
tinue it  through   the  mountain  passes   of 
Carinthia,  and  so  on  into  Hungary.     If  he 
had  marched  by  the  Tyrol,  he  would  have 
found  Augereau  in  his  front,  with  Ney  and 
Marmont  threatening  his  flanks,  while  Mas- 
sena, before  whom  he  was  now  retreating, 
pressed  on  his  rear. 
The  Archduke  commenced  this  dispiriting 
and  distressing  movement,  over  nearly  the 
same  ground  which  he  had  passed  while,  re- 
treating before  Buonaparte  himself  in  1797. 
He  did  not  however,  as  on  that  occasion, 
avail  himself  of  the  Tagliamento,  or  Palma 
Nova.     His  purpose  was  retreat,  not  de- 
fence ;  and,  though  pursued  closely  by  Mas- 
sena, he  halted  no  longer  at  these  strong 
posts   than  was   necessary   to   protect  his 
march,  and  check  the  vivacity  of  the  French 
advance.     He  effected  at  length  his  retreat 
upon  Laybach.  where  he  received  tidings 
from  his  brother  the  Archduke  John,  whose 
situation  on  the  Tyrol  was  not  more  agree- 
able than  his  own  in  Italy  ;  and  who,  like 
Charles  himself,  was  desirous  to  escape  into 
the  vicinity  of  Hungary  with  what  forces 
remained  to  him. 

The  distress  of  the  Archduke  John  was 
occasioned  by  an  army  of  French  and  Bava- 


Chap.  I,.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


415 


rians,  commanded  by  Ney,  who  had  pene- 
trated into  the  Tyrol  by  paths  deemed  im- 
practicable ;  taken  the  forts  of  Schwatz, 
Neustadt  and  Inspruck  itself,  and  placed 
the  Archduke's  army  in  the  most  precarious 
situation.  Adopting  a  determination  wor- 
thy of  his  birth,  the  Austrian  l^rince  resolv- 
ed at  ail  risks  to  eftect  a  junction  with  his 
brother,  and,  though  hard  pressed  by  the 
enemy,  he  accomplished  his  purpose.  Two 
considerable  corps  of  Austrians,  being  left 
in  an  insulated  situation  by  these  move- 
ments of  tlie  two  Princes,  were  obliged  to 
surrender.  These  were  tlie  divisions  of 
Jellachich,  in  tlie  Vorarlberg,  and  of  the 
Prince  of  Rohan,  in  Lombardy.  The  whole 
of  the  north  of  Italy,  with  llie  Tyrol  and 
all  its  passes,  was  left  to  the  undisturbed 
and  unresisted  occupation  of  the  French. 

The  army  of  the  royal  brothers  had,  how- 
ever, become  formidable  by  tlieir  junction, 
and  was  daily  growing  stronger.  They 
were  in  communication  with  Hungary,  the 
brave  inhabitants  of  which  warlike  country 
were  universally  rising  in  arms.  They 
were  alsojoinedby  volunteers  from  Croatia, 
the  Tyrol,  and  all  those  wild  and  mountain- 
ous countries,  which  have  so  long  supplied 
the  Austrian  army  with  the  finest  light 
troops  in  the  world. 

It  might  seem  to  counterbalance  these 
advantages,  that  Massena  had  also  en.ered 
into  communications  with  the  French  irmy 
of  Germany  at  Clagenfurt,  the  capiti.l  of 
Carinthia.  But  having  left  great  part  o''  his 
troops  in  Italy,  he  had  for  the  time  ceased 
Vo  be  formidable  to  the  Austrian  princes, 
who  now  meditated  advancing  on  the 
French  grand  army,  which  the  audacity  of 
its  leader  had  placed  in  a  situation  extreme- 
ly perilous  to  any  other  than  French  troops 
acting  under  the  eye  of  their  Emperor. 

Nothing,  it  is  true,  could  be  more  admi- 
rably conceived  and  satisfactorily  accom- 
plished than  the  succession  of  grand  ma- 
noeuvres, which,  distinguishing  the  opening 
of  the  campaign,  had  produced  the  great, 
yet  cheaply-purchased  success  of  Ulm,  and 
the  capture  of  Vieni».  Nor  was  the  series 
of  combination  less  wonderful,  by  which, 
clearing  the  Vorarlberg,  the  Tyrol,  and  the 
north  of  Italy  of  the  enemy,  Napoleon  had 
placed  almost  all  the  subordinate  divisions 
of  his  own  army  at  his  disposal,  ready  to 
assist  him  in  the  grand  enterprise  against 
the  Austro-Russian  force.  But  he  has  been 
considered  by  military  critics  as  having 
trusted  too  great  a  risk  upon  the  precarious 
event  of  battle,  when  he  crossed  the  Dan- 
ube and  plunged  into  Moravia,  when  a  de- 
feat, or  even  a  check,  might  have  been  at- 
tended with  the  most  fatal  consequences. 
The  position  of  the  .\rchdukes  Charles  and 
John  ;  the  organization  of  the  Hungarian  ' 
insurrection,  which  proceerled  rapidly  ;  the  | 
success  of  the  .\rchduke  Ferdinand,  in  rais-  ! 
ing  a  similar  general  levy  in  Bohemia,  threat-  ! 
ened  alarming  operations  in  the  French  rear; 
while  Prussia,  with  the  sword  drawn  in  her  i 
hand,  and  the  word  war  upon  her  lips,  i 
watched  but  the  slightest  waning  of  Buon- 
aparte's star,  to  pronounce  the  word,  and 
to  strike  a  blow  at  the  same  moment. 


Napoleon  accordingly,  though  he  had 
dared  the  risk,  was  perfectly  sensible  that 
as  he  had  distinguished  the  earlier  part  of 
this  campaign  by  some  of  the  most  bril- 
liant manoeuvres  which  military  history 
records,  it  was  now  incumbent  upon  him- 
without  delay,  to  conclude  it  by  a  great 
and  decisive  victory  over  a  new  and  formi- 
dable enemy.  He  neglected,  therefore,  no 
art  by  which  success  could  be  ensured.  In 
the  firstplace,  it  was  necessary  to  determine 
the  allies  to  immediate  battle  ;  for,  situated 
in  tiie  heart  of  an  enemy's  country,  with 
insurrection  spreading  wider  and  wider 
around  him,  an  immediate  action  was  as 
desirable  on  his  part,  as  delay  would  have 
been  advantageous  to  his  opponents.  Some 
attempts  at  negotiation  were  made  by  the 
Austrians,  to  aid  which  Haugwitz,  the  Prus- 
sian minister,  made  his  appearance  in  the 
French  camp  with  the  offer  of  his  master's 
mediation,  but  with  the  alternative  of  de- 
claring war  in  case  it  was  refused.  To 
temporize  with  Prussia  was  of  the  last 
consequence,  and  the  French  Emperor 
found  a  willing  instrument  in  Haugwitz. 
"The  French  and  Austrian  outposts,''  said 
Napoleon,  "  are  engaged  ;  it  is  a  prelude  to 
the  battle  which  I  am  about  to  fi^ht — Say 
nothing  of  your  errand  to  me  at  present — I 
wish  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  it.  Return 
to  Vienna,  and  wait  the  events  of  war." 
Haugwitz,  to  use  Napoleon's  own  expres- 
sion, was  no  novice,  and  returned  to  Vienna 
without  waiting  for  another  hint ;  and  doubt- 
less the  French  Emperor  was  well  pleased 
to  be  rid  of  his  presence. 

Napoleon  next  sent  Savary  to  the  Russian 
camp,  under  pretence  of  compliii.ent  to  the 
Emperor  Alexander,  but  in  reality  as  a  spy 
upon  that  monarch  and  his  generals.  He 
returned,  having  discovered,  or  affected  to 
discover,  that  the  Russian  sovereign  was 
surrounded  by  counsellors,  whom  their 
youth  and  rank  rendered  confident  and  pre- 
sumptuous, and  who,  he  concluded,  might 
be  easily  m'sguided  into  some  fatal  act  of 
rashness. 

Buonaparte  acted  on  the  hint,  and  upon 
the  first  movement  of  the  Austro-Russian 
army  in  advance,  withdrew  his  forces  from 
the  position  they  had  occupied.  Prince 
Dolgorucki,  aid-de-camp  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander,  was  despatched  by  him  to  return 
the  compliments  which  had  been  brought 
him.  He  too  was,  doubtless,  expected  to 
use  his  powers  of  observation,  but  they 
were  not  so  acute  as  those  of  the  old  officer 
of  police.  Buonaparte,  as  if  the  interior  of 
his  camp  displayed  scenes  which  he  did  not 
desire  Dolgorucki  to  witness,  met  the  prince 
at  the  outpoai,  which  the  soldiers  were  in 
the  act  of  hastily  covering  with  field-works, 
like  an  army  which  seeks  to  shelter  con- 
scious weakness  under  entrenchments.  En- 
couraged by  what  he  thought  he  saw  of  the 
difficulties  in  which  the  French  seemed  to 
be  placed,  Dolgorucki  entered  upon  politics, 
and  demanded  in  plain  terms  the  cession  of 
the  crown  of  Italy.  To  this  proposal  Buona- 
parte listened  with  a  patience  which  seemed 
to  be  the  effect  of  his  present  situation.  In 
short,  Dolgorucki  carried  back  to  his  Impe- 


416 


LIFE  OF  KAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[CAop.  L. 


perial  Master  the  hastily  conceived  opin- 
ion, that  the  French  Emperor  was  retreat- 
ing, and  felt  himself  in  a  precarious  pos- 
ture. On  this  false  ground  the  Russian 
council  of  war  determined  to  act.  Their 
plan  was  to  extend  their  own  left  wing, 
with  the  purpose  of  turning  the  right  of  the 
French  army,  and  taking  them  upon  the 
flank  and  rear. 

It  was  upon  the  1st  December  at  noon 
that  the  Russians  commenced  this  move- 
ment, by  which,  in  confidence  of  success, 
they  abandoned  a  chain  of  heights  where 
they  might  have  received  an  attack  with 
great  advantage,  descended  into  ground 
more  favourable  to  the  enemy,  and,  finally. 
Traced  their  left  wing  at  too  great  a  distance 
from  the  centre.  The  French  general  no 
sooner  witnessed  th^s  rash  manoeuvre,  than 
he  exclaimed,  •'  Before  to-morrow  is  over, 
that  army  is  my  owr.."  In  the  meantime, 
withdrawing  his  outposts,  and  concentrat- 
ing his  forces,  he  continued  to  intimate  a 
conscious  inferiority,  which  was  far  from 
existing. 

The  two  armies  seem  to  have  been  very 
nearly  of  the  same  strength.  For  though 
the  bulletin,  to  enhance  the  victory,  makes 
the  opposite  army  amount  to  100,000  men, 
yet  there  were  not  actually  above  50,000 
Russians,  and  about  25,000  Austrians,  in  the 
field  of  battle.  The  French  army  might  be 
about  the  same  force.  But  they  were  com- 
manded by  Napoleon,  and  the  Russians  by 
Koutousoff;  a  veteran  soldier  indeed,  full  of 
bravery  and  patriotism,  and  accustomed  to 
war  as  it  was  waged  against  the  Turks  ;  but 
deficient  in  general  talent,  as  well  as  in 
the  alertness  of  mind  necessary  to  penetrate 
into  and  oppose  the  designs  of  his  adversa- 
ry, and,  as  is  not  unusual,  obstinate  in  pro- 
portion to  the  narrowness  of  his  understand- 
ing, and  the  prejudices  of  his  education. 

Meanwhile  Buonaparte,  possessed  of  his 
enemy's  plan  by  the  demonstrations  of  the 
preceding  day,  passed  the  night  in  making 
his  arrangements.  He  visited  the  posts  in 
person,  and  apparently  desired  to  maintain 
an  incognito  which  was  soon  discovered. 
As  soon  as  the  person  of  the  Emperor  was 
recognized,  the  soldiers  remembered  that 
next  day  (2d  December)  was  the  anniversa- 
ry of  his  coronation.  Bunches  of  lighted 
hay,  placed  on  the  end  of  poles,  made  an 
extempore  illumination,  while  the  troops, 
with  loud  acclamations,  protested  they 
would  present  him  on  the  following  day 
with  a  bouquet  becoming  the  occasion;  and 
an  old  grenadier,  approaching  his  person, 
swore  that  the  Emperor  should  only  have 
to  combat  with  his  eyes,  and  that,  without 
his  exposing  his  person,  the  whole  colours 
and  artillery  of  the  Russian  army  should  be 
brought  to  him  to  celebrate  the  festival  of 
the  morrow. 

In  the  proclamation  which  Napoleon,  ac- 
cording to  his  custom,  issued  to  the  army, 
ne  promises  that  he  will  keep  his  person 
out  of  the  reach  of  fire  ;  thus  showing  the 
full  confidence,  that  tiie  assurance  of  his 
personal  safety  would  be  considered  as  great 
an  encouragement  to  the  troops,  as  the  us- 
oal  protestation  of  sovereigns  and  leaders, 


that  they  will  be  in  the  front,  and  share  the 
dangers  of  the  day.  This  is  perhaps  the 
strongest  proof  possible  of  the  complete 
and  confidential  understanding  which  sub- 
sisted between  Napoleon  and  his  soldiers. 
Yet  there  have  not  been  wanting  those,  who 
have  thrown  the  imputation  of  cowardice 
on  the  victor  of  a  hundred  battles,  whose 
reputation  was  so  well  established  amongst 
those  troops  who  must  be  the  best  judges, 
that  his  attention  to  the  safety  of  his  per- 
son was  requested  by  them,  and  granted  by 
him,  as  a  favour  to  his  army. 

The  battle  of  Austerlitz,  fought  against  aa 
enemy  of  great  valour  but  slender  experi- 
ence, was  not  of  a  very  complicated  charac- 
ter. The  Russians,  we  have  seen,  were  ex- 
tending their  line  to  surround  the  French 
flank.  Marshal  Davoust,  with  a  division  of 
infantry,  and  another  of  dragoons,  was  plac- 
ed behind  the  convent  of  Raygern,  to  op- 
pose the  forces  destined  for  this  manoeuvre, 
at  the  moment  when  they  should  conceive 
the  point  carried.  Soult  commanded  the 
right  wing  ;  Lannes  conducted  the  left, 
which  last  rested  upon  a  fortified  position 
called  Santon,  defended  by  twenty  pieces 
of  cannon.  Bernadotte  led  the  centre, 
where  Murat  and  all  the  French  cavalry 
were  stationed.  Ten  battalions  of  the  Im- 
perial Guard,  with  ten  of  Oudinot's  division, 
were  kept  in  reserve  in  the  rear  of  the  line, 
under  the  eye  of  Napoleon  himself,  who 
destined  them,  with  forty  field-pieces,  to 
act  wherever  the  fate  of  battle  should  ren- 
der their  services  most  necessary.  Such 
were  the  preparations  for  this  decisive  bat- 
tle, where  three  Emperors,  each  at  the  head 
of  his  own  army,  strove  to  decide  the  desti- 
nies of  Europe.  The  sun  rose  with  un- 
clouded brilliancy  ;  it  was  that  sun  of  Aus- 
terlitz which  Napoleon  upon  so  many  suc- 
ceeding occasions  apostrophised,  and  re- 
called to  the  minds  of  his  soldiers.  As  its 
first  beams  rose  above  the  horizon,  Buoaa- 
parte  appeared  in  front  of  the  army,  sur- 
rounded by  his  marshals,  to  whom  he  issu- 
ed his  last  directions,  and  they  departed  at 
full  gallop  to  their  different  posts. 

The  column  detached  from  the  left  of  the 
Austro-Russian  army  was  engaged  in  a  false 
manoeuvre,  and  it  was  ill  executed.  The 
intervals  between  the  regiments  of  which  it 
consisted  were  suffered  to  become  irregular, 
and  the  communications  between  this  at- 
tacking column  itself  and  the  main  body 
were  not  maintained  with  sufficient  accura- 
cy. When  the  Russians  thought  themselves 
on  the  point  of  turning  the  right  flank  of 
the  French,  they  found  themselves  sudden- 
ly, and  at  unawares,  engaged  with  Davoust's 
division,  of  whose  position  behind  the  con- 
vent of  Raygern,  they  had  not  been  aware. 
At  the  same  time,  Soult,  at  the  head  of  the 
French  right  wing,  rushed  forward  upon  the 
interval  between  the  Austro-Russian  cen- 
tre and  left,  caused  by  the  march  of  the  lat- 
ter upon  Raygern,  and,  completely  inter- 
secting their  line,  severed  the  left  wing  en- 
tirely from  the  centre. 

The  Emperor  of  Russia  perceived  the  dan- 
ger, and  directed  a  desperate  attempt  to  be 
made  upon  Soult's  division  by  the  Russian 


Chap.  L] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOiX  BUONAPARTE. 


417 


Guards,  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  the 
communication  with  his  left.  The  French 
infantry  were  staggered  by  this  charge,  and 
one  regiment  completely  routed.  But  it 
was  in  such  a  crisis  that  the  genius  of  Buo- 
naparte triumphed.  Be«sieres  had  orders  to 
advance  with  the  Imperial  Guard,  while  the 
Russians  were  disordered  with  their  own 
success.  The  encounter  was  desperate, 
and  the  Russians  displayed  the  utmost  val- 
our before  they  at  length  gave  way  to  the 
discipline  and  steadiness  of  Buonaparte's 
veterans.  Their  artillery  and  standards 
were  lost,  and  Prince  Constantine,  the  Em- 
peror's brother,  who  fought  gallantly  at  their 
nead,  was  only  saved  by  the  speed  of  his 
horse. 

The  centre  of  the  French  army  now  ad- 
vanced to  complete  the  victory,  and  the  cav- 
alry of  Murat  made  repeated  charges  with 
such  success,  that  the  Emperors  of  Russia 
and  Austria,  from  the  heights  of  Austerlitz, 
beheld  their  centre  and  left  completely  de- 
feated. The  fate  of  the  right  wing  could  no 
longer  be  protracted,  and  it  was  disastrous 
even  bej-ond  the  usual  consequences  of  de- 
feat. They  had  been  actively  pressed  dur- 
ing the  whole  battle  by  Laimes.  but  now  the 
troops  on  their  left  being  routed,  they  were 
surrounded  on  all  sides,  and,  unable  to  make 
longer  resistance,  were  forced  down  into  a 
hollow,  where  they  were  exposed  to  the  fire 
of  twenty  pieces  of  cannon.  Many  attempt- 
ed to  escape  across  a  lake,  which  was  par- 
tially frozen  ;  but  the  ice  proving  too  weak 
gave  way  under  them,  or  was  broken  by  the 
hostile  cannonade.  This  fatality  renewed, 
according  to  Buonaparte's  description,  the 
appearance  of  the  battle  with  the  Turks  at 
Aboukir,  where  so  many  thousand  men, 
flying  from  the  battle,  perished  by  drowning. 
It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  that,  ral- 
lying the  remains  of  their  routed  forces 
around  them,  and  retiring  in  the  best  man- 
ner they  could,  the  Emperors  effected  their 
personal  retreat.  Only  the  devoted  bravery 
of  the  Russians,  and  the  loyalty  of  the  Aus- 
trian cavalry,  who  charged  repeatedly  to 
protect  the  retrograde  movement,  could 
nave  rendered  it  possible,  since  the  sole 
passage  to  the  rear  lay  along  a  causeway, 
extending  between  two  lakes.  The  retreat 
was,  however,  accomplished,  and  the  Em- 
perors escaped  without  sustaining  the  loss 
in  the  pursuit  which  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. But  in  the  battle,  at  least  20,000 
men  had  remained,  killed,  wounded,  and 
prisoners  5  and  forty  standards,  with  a  great 
proportion  of  the  hostile  artillery,  were  the  | 
ti-ophies  of  Napoleon,  whose  army  had  thus  , 
amply  redeemed  their  pledge.  It  was,  | 
however,  at  a  high  rate,  that  they  had  pur-  | 
chased  the  promised  bouquet.  Their  own  1 
ranks  had  lost  probably  .5000  men,  tliough  I 
Ihe  bulletin  diminishes  the  numbers  to  two  ! 
thousand  five  hundred.  ! 

The  Austrian  Emperor  considered  his  ' 
last  hope  of  successful  opposititm  to  Napo- 
leon as  extinguished  by  this  defeat,  and  ' 
conceived,  therefore,  th'it  he  had  nothing 
remaining  save  to  throw  himself  upon  the 
discretion  of  the  victor.  There  were,  in- ' 
4eed  some,  who  accused  bis  councils  of  | 
Vol.  L  S  2 


pusillanimity.  It  was  said,  that  the  levies 
of  Prince  Charles  in  Hungary,  and  of  Prince 
Ferdinand  in  Bohemia,  were  in  great  for 
wardness — that  the  Emperors  had  still  a 
considerable  army  under  their  own  com- 
mand— and  that  Prussia,  already  sufficient- 
ly disposed  for  war,  would  certainly  not 
permit  Austria  to  be  totally  overwhelmed. 
But  it  ought  to  be  considered,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  the  new  levies,  however  useful 
in  a  partisan  war,  could  not  be  expected  to 
redeem  the  loss  of  such  a  battle  as  Auster- 
litz— that  they  were  watched  by  French 
troops,  which,  though  inferior  in  number, 
were  greatly  more  formidable  in  discipline 
— and  that,  as  for  Prussia,  it  was  scarce 
rational  to  expect  that  she  would  interfere 
by  arms,  to  save,  in  the  hour  of  distress, 
those  to  whom  she  had  given  no  assistance, 
when  such  would  probably  have  been  de- 
cisive of  the  contest,  and  that  in  favour  of 
the  allies. 

The  influence  of  the  victory  on  the  Prus- 
sian councils  was  indeed  soon  made  evident; 
for  Count  Haugwitz,  who  had  been  dismiss- 
ed to  Vienna  till  the  battle  should  take 
place,  now  returned  to  Buonaparte's  head- 
qu.orters,  having  changed  the  original  mes- 
sage of  defiance  of  which  he  was  the  bear- 
er, into  a  handsome  compliment  to  Napole- 
on upon  his  victory.  The  answer  of  Napo- 
leon intimated  his  full  sense  of  the  duplici- 
ty of  Prussia. — '•'  This,"  he  said,  "  is  a  com- 
pliment designed  for  others,  but  Fortune 
has  transferred  the  address  to  me.''  It 
was,  however,  still  necessarv  to  concili- 
ate a  power,  which  had  an  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  men  in  the  field ;  and  a  pn 
vate  treaty  with  Haugwitz  assigned  the 
Electorate  of  Hanover  to  Prussia,  in  ex- 
change for  Anspach,  or  rather  as  the  price 
of  her  neutrality  at  this  important  crisis. 
Thus  all  hopes  of  Prussian  interference 
being  over,  the  Emperor  Francis  must  be 
held  justified  in  yielding  to  necessity,  and 
endeavouring  to  secure  the  best  terms 
which  could  be  yet  obtained,  by  submitting 
at  discretion.  His  ally,  Alexander,  refused 
indeed  to  be  concerned  in  a  negotiation, 
which  in  the  circumstances  could  not  fail 
to  be  humiliating. 

A  personal  interview  took  place  betwixt 
the  Emperor  of  Austria  and  Napoleon,  to 
whose  camp  Francis  resorted  almost  ic  the 
guise  of  a  suppliant.  The  defeated  Prince 
is  represented  as  having  thrown  the  blames 
of  the  war  upon  the  English.  "  They  are 
a  set  of  merchants,"  he  said,  "  who  would 
set  the  continent  on  fire,  in  order  to  secure 
to  themselves  the  commerce  of  the  world.'' 
The  argument  was  not  very  logical,  but  the 
good  Prince  in  whose  mouth  it  is  placed,  is 
not  to  be  condemned  for  holding  at  such 
a  moment  the  language  which  might  please 
the  victor.  When  Buonaparte  welcomed 
him  to  his  military  hut,  and  said  it  was  iJ»« 
only  palace  he  had  inhabited  for  nearly  two 
months,  the  Austrian  answered  with  a 
smile,  "  You  have  turned  your  residence, 
then,  to  such  good  account,  that  you  ought 
to  be  content  with  it." 

The  Emperor  of  Austria,  having  satisfied 
himself  that  he  would  be  admitted  to  terms 


418 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[CA<qj.  L. 


of  greater  or  less  severity,  next  stipulated 
&r  that  which  Alexander  had  disdained  to 
request  in  his  own  person — the  unmolested 
retreat  of  the  Russians  to  their  own  coun- 
try. 

"The  Russian  army  is  surrounded,"  said 
Napoleon ;  "  not  a  man  can  escape  me. 
But  I  wish  to  oblige  their  Emperor,  and 
will  stop  the  march  of  my  columns,  if  your 
Majesty  promises  me  that  these  Russians 
ehail  evacuate  Germany,  and  the  Austrian 
and  Prussian  parts  of  Poland." 

"  It  is  the  purpose  of  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander to  do  so." 

The  arrangement  was  communicated  by 
Savary  to  the  Russian  Emperor,  who  ac- 
quiesced in  the  proposal  to  return  with  his 
army  to  Russia  by  regular  marches.  No 
other  engagement  was  required  of  Alexan- 
der than  his  word  ;  and  the  respectful  man- 
ner in  which  he  is  mentioned  in  the  bulle- 
tins, indicates  Buonaparte's  desire  to  cul- 
tivate a  good  understanding  with  this  pow- 
erful and  spirited  young  monarch.  On  the 
other  hand,  Napoleon  has  not  failed  to  place 
in  the  Czar's  mouth  such  compliments  to 
himself  as  the  following  : — "  Tell  your  mas- 
ter," said  he  to  Savary,  '•'  that  he  did  mir- 
acles yesterday — that  this  bloody  day  has 
augmented  my  respect  for  him — He  is  the 
predestined  of  Heaven — it  will  take  a  hun- 
dred years  ere  my  army  equals  that  of 
France."  Savary  is  then  stated  to  have 
found  Alexander,  despite  of  his  reverse  of 
fortune,  a  man  of  heart  and  head.  He  en- 
tered into  details  of  the  battle. 

"  You  were  inferior  to  us  on  the  whole," 
he  said,  "  yet  we  found  you  superior  on 
every  point  of  action." 

"That,"  replied  Savary,  ••'arises  from 
warlike  experience,  the  fruit  of  sixteen 
years  of  glory.  This  is  the  fortieth  battle 
which  the  Emperor  has  fought." 

"  He  is  a  great  soldier,"  said  Alexander ; 
"  I  do, not  pretend  to  compare  myself  with 
him — this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  un- 
der fire.  But  it  is  enough.  1  came  hither 
to  the  assistance  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria 
— he  has  no  farther  occasion  for  my  services 
— I  return  to  my  capital." 

Accordingly  he  commenced  his  march 
towards  Russia,  in  pursuance  of  the  terms 
agreed  upon.  The  Russian  arms  had  been 
unfortunate ;  but  the  behaviour  of  their 
youthful  Emperor,  and  the  marked  defer- 
ence shown  towards  him  by  Buonaparte, 
made  a  most  favourable  impression  upon 
Europe  at  large. 

The  Austrian  Monarch,  left  to  his  fate, 
obtained  from  Buonaparte  ai\  armistice — 
a  small  part  of  the  price  was  imposed  in 
the  shape  of  a  military  contribution  of  an 
hundred  millions  of  francs,  to  be  raised  in 
the  territories  occupied  by  the  French  ar- 
mies. The  cessation  of  hostilities  was  to 
endure  while  Talleyrand  on  the  one  side, 
and  Prince  John  of  Lichtensteia  on  the 
other,  adjusted  the  terms  of  a  general  paci- 
fication. Buonaparte  failed  not  to  propiti- 
ate the  Austrian  negotiator  by  the  most  ex- 
travagant praises  in  his  bulletins,  and  has 
represented  the  Emperor  of  Austria  as  ask- 
ing, "  Why,  posseasiag  men  of  such  dis- 


tinguished talent,  should  the  affairs  of  my 
cabinet  be  committed  to  knaves  andfoois  ?" 
Of  this  question  we  can  only  say,  that  if 
really  asked  by  Francis,  which  we  doubt, 
he  was  himself  the  only  person  by  whom  it 
could  have  been  ajjswered. 

The  compliments  to  the  Prince  John  of 
Lichtenstein,  were  intended  to  propitiate 
the  public  in  favour  of  the  treaty  of  peace, 
negotiated  by  a  man  of  such  talents.  Some 
of  his  countrymen,  on  the  other  hand,  ac- 
cused him  of  selfish  precipitation  in  the 
treaty,  for  the  purpose  of  removing  the 
scene  of  war  from  the  neighbourhood  of  his 
own  family  estates.  But  what  could  the 
wisdom  of'  the  ablest  negotiator,  or  the 
firmness  of  the  most  stubborn  patriot,  have 
availed,  when  France  was  to  dictate  terras, 
and  Austria  to  receive  them  ?  The  treaties 
of  Campo  Formio  and  Luneville,  though 
granted  to  Austria  by  Napoleon  in  the  hour 
of  victory,  were  highly  advantageous  com- 
pared to  that  of  Presburgh,  which  was 
signed  on  the  26th  of  December  1805,  about 
a  fortnight  after  to  battle  of  Austerlitz.  By 
this  negotiation,  Francis  ceded  to  Bavaria 
the  oldest  possession  of  his  house,  the 
mountains  of  Tyrol  and  of  the  Vorarlberg, 
filled  with  the  best,  bravest,  and  most  at- 
tached of  his  subjects,  and  which,  by  their 
geographical  situation,  had  hitherto  given 
Austria  influence  at  once  in  Germany  and 
Italy.  Venice,  Austria's  most  recent  pos- 
session, and  which  had  not  been  very  hon- 
ourably obtained,  was  also  yielded  up  and 
added  to  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  She  was 
again  reduced  to  the  solitary  sea-port  of 
Trieste,  in  the  Adriatic. 

By  the  same  treaty,  the  Germanic  allies 
of  Buonaparte  were  to  be  remunerated. 
Wirtemberg,  as  well  as  Bavaria,  received 
large  additions  at  the  expense  of  Austria 
and  of  the  other  princes  of  the  Empire,  and 
Francis  consented  that  both  the  Electors 
should  be  promoted  to  the  kingly  dignity, 
in  reward  of  their  adherence  to  the  French 
cause.  Other  provisions  there  were,  equal- 
ly inconsistent  with  the  immunities  of  the 
Germanic  body,  for  which  scarcely  a  shad- 
ow of  respect  was  retained,  save  by  an 
illusory  clause,  or  species  of  protest,  by 
which  Austria  declared,  that  all  the  stipu- 
lations to  which  she  consented  were  under 
reservation  of  the  rights  of  the  Empire.  By 
the  treaty  of  Presburgh,  Austria  is  said  to 
have  lost  upwards  of  20,000  square  miles  o( 
territory,  two  millions  and  a  half  of  subjects, 
and  a  revenue  to  the  amount  of  ten  mil- 
lions and  a  half  of  florins.  And  this  mo- 
mentous surrender  was  made  in  consequence 
of  one  unfortunate  campaign,  which  lasted 
but  six  months,  and  was  distiugnished  by 
only  one  general  action. 

There  were  two  episodes  in  this  war,  of-- 
little  consequence  in  themselves,  but  im- 
portant considered  with  reference  to  the 
alterations  they  produced  in  two  of  the 
ancient  kingdoms  of  Europe,  which  they 
proved  the  proximate  cause  of  re-model- 
ling according  to  the  new  form  of  goverii- 
mont  which  had  been  introduced  by  Buon- 
aparte, and  sanctioned  by  the  exaoople  of 
France. 


Chap.  L.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


419 


The  King  of  Sweden  had  been  an  ardent 
and  enthusiastic  member  of  the  Anti-gaili- 
can  league.  He  was  brave,  enterprising, 
and  chivalrous,  and  ambitious  to  play  the 
part  of  his  namesake  and  progenitor,  CJus- 
tavus  Adolphus,  orhis  predecessor,  Charles 
XIL  ;  without,  however,  considering,  that 
since  the  time  of  these  princes,  and  partly 
in  consequence  of  t'.jeir  wars  and  extensive 
undertakings,  Sweden  had  sunk  into  a  sec- 
ondary rank  in  the  great  European  family  ; 
and  without  reflecting,  that  when  great  en- 
terprises are  attempted  without  adequate 
means  to  carry  them  through,  valour  be- 
comes Quixotic,  and  generosity  ludicrous. 
He  had  engaged  to  join  in  a  combined  ef- 
fort for  the  purpose  of  freeing  Hauover, 
and  the  northern  parts  of  Germany,  from 
the  French,  by  means  oi  an  army  of  Eng- 
lish, Russians',  and  Swedes.  Had  Prussia 
acceded  to  the  confederacy,  this  might 
have  been  easily  accomplished  ;  especially 
88  Saxony,  Hesse,  and  Brunswick,  would, 
under  her  encouragement,  have  willingly 
have  joined  in  the  war.  -Xay,  even  without 
the  accession  of  Prussia,  a  diversion  in  the 
North,  ably  conducted  and  strongly  sup- 
ported, might  have  at  least  found  Berna- 
doite  sufRcient  work  in  Hanover,  and  pre- 
vented him  from  materially  contributing,  by 
his  march  to  the  Danube,  to  the  disasters 
of  the  Austrian  army  at  Ulm.  But  by  some 
of  those  delays  and  misunderstandings, 
which  are  so  apt  to  disappoint  the  objects 
of  a  coalition,  and  disconcert  enterprises 
attempted  by  troops  of  different  nations,  the 
forces  designed  for  the  north  of  Europe  did 
not  assemble  until  the  middle  of  November, 
and  then  only  in  strength  sufficient  to  un- 
dertake the  siege  of  the  Hanoverian  for- 
tress of  Hamelen.  in  which  Bernadotte  had 
left  a  strong  garrison.  The  enterprise,  too 
tardy  in  its  commencement,  was  soon  brok- 
en off  by  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Auster- 
litz  and  its  consequences,  and,  being  finally 
abandoned,  the  unfortunate  King  of  Sweden 
returned  to  his  own  dominions,  where  his 
subjects  received  with  unwillingness  and 
terror  a  prince,  who  on  many  accounts  had 
incurred  the  fatal  and  persevering  resent- 
ment of  Buonaparte.  Machinations  began 
presently  to  be  agitated  for  removing  him 
from  the  kingdom,  as  or.e  with  whom  Na- 
poleon could  never  be  reconciled,  and 
averting  from  Sweden,  by  such  sacrifice, 
the  punishment  which  must  otherwise  fall 
on  the  country,  as  well  as  on  the  kins. 

While  the  trifling  attempt  against  Hame- 
len, joined  to  other  circumstances,  was  tlius 
preparing  the  downfall  of  the  ancient  dy- 
nasty of  Sweden,  a  descent  made  bv  the  I 
Russians   and   English  on  the  Neapolitan  ' 
territories,  afforded  a  good  apology  to  Buon-  I 
aparte  for  depriving  the  King  of  the  two 
Sicilies  of  his  dominions,  so  far  as  they  lay 
open  to  the  pi.wer  of  France.      Governed 
entirely  by  the  influence  of  the  Queen,  the  j 
policy  of  Naples  had  been  of  a  fickle  and  ] 
insincere    character.       Repeatedly    saved  j 
from  the  greatest  hazard  of  dethronement,  j 
the  king  or   his  royal  consort  had  never  | 
omitted   an  opportunity   to  resume    arms  i 
•gainst  Frsuice,  under  the  conviction,  per- ' 


haps,  that  their  ruin  would  no  longer  be 
j  deferred  than  whilst  political  considerations 
I  induced   the    French   Emperor   to   permit 
!  their  possession  of  their  power.     The  last 
i  interference  in  their  behalf  had  been  at  the 
instance  of  the  Emperor  Paul.     After  this 
period  we  have  seen  that  their  Italian  do- 
minions were  occupied  by  French  troops, 
who  held  Otranto,  and  other  places  in  Ca- 
labria, as  pledges  (so  they  pretended)  for 
the  restoration  of  Malta. 

But  upon  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  of 
1805,  it  was  agreed,  by  a  convention  enter- 
ed into  at  Paris  21st  of  September,  and  rat- 
ified by  the  King  of  Naples  on  the  8th  of 
October,  that  the  French  should  withdraw 
their  forces  from  the  places  which  they  oc- 
cupied in  the  Neapolitan  territories,  and 
the  King  should  observe  a  strict  neutrality. 
Neither  of  the  contracting  parties  was  quite 
sincere.  The  French  troops,  which  were 
commanded  by  St.  Cyr,  were,  as  we  have 
seen,  withdrawn  from  Naples,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  reinforcing  Massena,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  campaign  of  Austerlitz.  Their 
absence  would  probably  have  e-idured  no 
longer  than  the  necessity  which  called  them 
away.  But  the  court  of  Naples  was  equal- 
ly insincere  ;  for  no  sooner  had  St.  Cyr  left 
the  Neapolitan  territories  to  proceed  north- 
ward, than  the  King,  animated  by  the  op- 
portunity which  his  departure  afforded,  once 
more  raised  his  forces  to  the  war  establish- 
ment, and  received  with  open  arms  ao 
armv,  consisting  of  12.0(X)  Russian  troops 
from  Corfu,  and  8000  British  from  Malta, 
who  disembarked  in  his  dominions. 

Had  this  armament  occupied  Venice  at 
the  commencement  of  the  war,  they  might 
have  materially  assisted  in  the  campaign  of 
the  Archduke  Charles  against  Massena. 
The  sending  them  in  November  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  Italian  peninsula,  only  serv- 
ed to  seal  the  fate  of  Ferdinand  the  Fourth. 
On  receiving  the  news  of  the  armistice  at 
Austerlitz,  the  Russians  and  the  British  re- 
embarked,  and  not  long  after  their  depart- 
ure a  large  French  army,  commanded  by 
Joseph  Buonaparte,  approached  once  more 
to  enforce  the  doom  passed  against  the 
royal  family  of  Naples,  that  they  should 
cease  to  reign.  The  King  and  Queen  fled 
from  the  storm  which  they  had  provoked. 
Their  son,  the  Prince  Royal,  in  whose  fa- 
vour they  had  abdicated,  only  made  use  of 
his  temporary  authority  to  surrender  Gaeta, 
Pescara,  and  Naples  itself,  with  its  castles, 
to  the  French  general.  In  Calabria,  how- 
ever, whose  wild  inhabitants  were  totally 
disinclined  to  the  French  yoke,  Count  Ro- 
ger de  Damns  and  the  Duke  of  Calabria  at- 
tempted to  make  a  stand.  But  their  hasty 
and  undisciplined  levies  were  easily  defeat- 
by  the  French  under  general  Regnier,  and, 
nominally  at  least,  almost  the  whole  Nea- 
politan kingdom  was  subjected  to  the  pow- 
er of  Joseph  Buonaparte. 

One  single  trait  of  gallantry  illuminated 
the  scene  of  universal  pusillanimity.  The 
Prince  of  Hesse  Philipsthal,  who  defended 
the  strong  fortress  of  Gaeta  in  name  of  Fer- 
dinand IV.,  refused  to  surrender  it  in  ternw 
of  the  capitulation.     "Tell  your  general/' 


420 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  U. 


said  he,  in  reply  to  the  French  summons, 
"  that  Gaeta  is  not  Ulm,  nor  the  Prince  of 
Hesse  General  Mack  '."  The  place  was 
defended  with  a  gallantry  corresponding  to 
these  expressions,  nor  was  it  surrendered 
until  the  17th  of  July  1806  after  a  long  siege, 
in  which  the  brave  governor  was  wounded. 
The  heroic  young  prince  only  appeared  on 


the  public  scene  to  be  withdrawn  from  it 
by  an  untimely  death,  which  has  been  as- 
cribed to  poison.  His  valour,  however 
honourable  to  himself,  was  of  little  use  to 
the  royal  family  of  Naples,  whose  deposi- 
tion was  determined  on  by  Buonaparte,  in 
order  to  place  upon  the  throne  one  of  his 
own  family. 


CHAP.  LI. 

Relative  situations  of  Prance  and  England. — Hostilities  commenced  with  Spain,  by  the 
Stoppage,  by  Commodore  Moore,  of  four  Spanish  Galleons,  when  three  of  their  Es- 
cort were  taken,  and  one  blew  up. — Napoleon's  Plan  of  Invasion  stated  and  discussed. 
— John  Clerk  of  Eldin's  great  system  of  Breaking  the  Line,  explained —  Whether  it 
could  have  been  advantageously  used  by  France  ? — The  French  Admiral,  Villeneuve, 
forms  a  junction  with  the  Spanish  Fleet  under  Gravina — Attacked  and  defeated  by 
Sir  Robert  Calder,  with  the  Loss  of  two  Ships  of  the  Line. — Nelson  appointed  to  the 
Command  in  the  Mediterranean. — Battle  of  Trafalgar /oitgr/ji  on  the  2lst  Octo- 
ber 1805. — Particulars  of  the  Force  on  each  Side,  and  Details  of  the  Battle. — Death 
of  Nelson. — Behaviour  of  Napoleon  on  learning  the  Intelligence  of  this  Signal  De- 
feat.—  Villeneuve  commits  Suicide. — Address  of  Buonaparte  to  the  Legislative  Body. 
— Statement  of  Monsieur  de  Champagny  on  the  Internal  Improvements  of  France. — 
Elevation  of  Napoleon's  Brothers,  Louis  and  Joseph,  to  the  Thrones  of  Holland  and 
Naples. — Principality  of  Lucca  conferred  on  Eliza,  the  eldest  Sister  of  Buonaparte, 
and  that  of  Guastalla  on  Pauline,  the  youngest. — Other  Alliances  made  by  his  Fami- 
ly.— Reflections. — Napoleon  appoints  a  new  Hereditary  Nobility. —  The  Policy  of  this 
Measure  considered. — Converts  from  the  old  Noblesse  anxiously  sought  for  and  libe- 
rally rewarded. — Confederation  of  the  Rhine  established,  and  Napoleon  appointed 
Protector. —  The  Emperor  Francis  lays  aside  the  Imperial  Crown  of  Germany,  retain- 
ing only  the  Title  of  Emperor  of  Austria. —  Vacillating  and  Impolitic  Conduct  of 
Prussia. 


The  triumphs  of  Napoleon  had  been  great- 
er at  this  period  of  his  reign,  than  had  ever 
before  been  recorded  in  history  as  achiev- 
ed by  a  single  man.  Yet  even  these,  like 
everything  earthly,  had  their  limit.  Fate, 
while  she  seemed  to  assign  him  complete 
domination  over  the  land,  had  vested  in 
other  hands  the  empire  of  the  seas  ;  and  it 
frequently  happened,  that  when  his  victori- 
ous eagles  were  flying  their  highest  pitch 
upon  the  continent,  some  conspicuous  naval 
disaster  warned  the  nations,  that  there  was 
another  element,  where  France  had  a  rival 
and  a  superior. 

It  is  true,  that  the  repeated  success  of 
England,  resembling  almost  that  of  the 
huntsman  over  his  game,  had  so  much  di- 
minished the  French  navy,  and  rendered  so 
cautious  such  seamen  as  France  had  re- 
maining, that  the  former  country,  unable  to 
get  opportunities  of  assailing  the  French 
vessels,  was  induced  to  have  recourse  to 
strange,  and,  as  it  proved,  ineffectual 
meano  of  carrying  on  hostilities.  Such 
was  the  attempt  at  destroying  the  harbour 
of  Boulogne,  by  sinking  in  the  roads  ships 
loaded  with  stones,  and  another  scheme  to 
blowup  the  French  ships,  by  means  of  de- 
tonating machines  to  be  affixed  to  them 
under  water.  The  one,  we  believe,  only 
furnished  the  inhabitants  of  Boulogne  with 
asupply  of  useful  building  stone  ;  the  other, 
from  the  raft  on  which  the  machines  were 
conveyed,  was  much  ridiculed  under  the 
name  of  the  catamaran  expedition.* 


•Those  implements  of  destructirn  were  afler- 
varda  nawl  againat  tho  British  oruisexs  in  Ameti- 


Buonaparte,  meanwhile,  never  lost  sight 
of  that  combination  of  naval  manoeuvres, 
through  means  of  which,  by  the  time  that 
the  subjugation  of  Austria  should  permit 
the  Grand  Army  to  resume  its  destination 
for  England,  he  hoped  to  assemble  in  the 
Channel  such  a  superior  fleet,  as  might 
waft  his  troops  in  safety  to  the  devoted 
shores  of  Britain.  The  unbounded  inflo- 
ence  which  he  exercised  over  the  court  of 
Spain,  seemed  likely  to  facilitate  this  diffi- 
cult enterprise.  Yet,  as  from  Spain  the 
French  Emperor  derived  large  supplies  of 
treasure,  it  would  have  been  convenient  for 
him,  that,  for  a  time  at  least,  she  should 
retain  the  mask  of  neutrality,  while,  in 
fact,  she  was  contributing  to  sevef  France, 
and  prejudice  England,  more  effectually 
than  if  she  had  been  in  a  state  of  avowed 
hostility  with  the  latter  power. 

The  British  government  determined  to 
bring  this  state  of  things  to  a  decided  point 
by  stopping  four  galleons,  or  vessels  loaded 
with  treasure,  proceeding  under  an  escort 
from  the  South  Sea,  and  destined  for  Cadi*. 
The  purpose  of  the  English  was  only  to 
detain  these  ships,  as  a  pledge  for  the  sin- 
cerity of  the  government  of  Spain,  in  obserr- 
ing  a  more  strict  neutrality  than  hitherto. 
But  unhappily  the  British  force  under  Corn- 


ea, and  were  judged  formidable.  But  such  despe- 
rate courage  is  necessary  to  attach  the  machine  to 
the  destined  vessel,  ami  the  fiito  of  the  engineer,  if 
discovered,  is  so  certainly  fatal,  that, like  fiie- 
shipg,  petards,  and  similar  inventions,  liable  to  ttM 
same  inconvenience,  they  do  not  appear  f  *--'-  "- 
got  into  general  use. 


Chap.  LI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


421 


modore  Moore,  amounted  only  to  four 
frigates.  Spanish  honour  rendered  the  ad- 
miral unwilling  to  strike  the  national  flag 
to  an  equal  strength,  and  an  action  ensued, 
in  which  three  of  the  Spanish  vessels  were 
taken,  and  one  unfortunately  blew  up  ;  an 
accident  greatly  to  be  regretted.  Mr. 
Southey  observes,  with  his  usual  sound 
sense  and  humanity, "  Had  a  stronger  squad- 
ron been  sent,  (against  the  Spaniards,)  this 
deplorable  catastrophe  might  have  been 
saved — a  catastrophe  which  excited  not 
more  indignation  in  Spain,  than  it  did  grief 
in  those  who  were  its  unwilling  instruments, 
in  the  British  i>eople,  and  in  the  British 
government." 

This  action  took  place  on  the  5th  of  Oc- 
tober 1804  ;  and  as  hostilities  were  of  course 
immediately  commenced  betwixt  Spain  and 
Britain,  Buonaparte,  losing  the  advantages, 
he  derived  from  the  neutrality  of  the  former 
power,  had  now  only  to  use  the  naval  and 
military  means  which  she  afforded  for  the 
advancement  of  his  own  purposes.  The 
Court  of  Spain  devoted  them  to  his  service, 
with  a  passive  complaisance  of  which  we 
shall  hereafter  see  the  reward. 

Napoleon  persisted  to  the  last  in  asserting 
that  he  saw  clearly  the  means  of  utterly 
destroying  the  English  superiority  at  sea. 
This  he  proposed  to  achieve  by  evading 
the  blockades  of  the  several  ports  of  France 
and  Spain,  which,  while  weather  permitted, 
were  each  hermetically  sealed  by  the  pres- 
ence of  a  British  squadron,  and  by  finally 
assembling  in  the  Channel  that  overwhelm- 
ing force,  which,  according  to  his  state- 
ment, was  to  reduce  England  to  a  depend- 
ency on  France,  as  complete  as  that  of  the 
Isle  of  Oleron.  But  men  of  the  greatest 
talents  must  necessarily  be  liable  to  error, 
when  they  apply  the  principles  of  a  science 
with  which  they  are  well  acquainted  upon 
one  element,  to  the  operations  which  are 
to  be  carried  on  by  means  of  another.  It 
is  evident  that  he  erred,  when  calculating 
his  maritime  combinations,  in  not  suffi- 
ciently considering  two  xnost  material  dif- 
ferences betwixt  them,  and  those  which 
had  exalted  his  glory  upon  land. 

In  the  first  place,  as  a  landsman,  Napoleoin 
did  not  make  sufficient  allowance  for  the 
action  of  contrary  winds  and  waves ;  as  in- 
deed it  was  perhaps  his  fault,  even  in  land 
operations,  where  their  influence  is  less 
essential,  to  admit  too  little  consequence  to 
the  opposition  of  the  elements.  He  com- 
plained, when  at  St.  Helena,  that  he  could 
never  get  a  seaman  sufficiently  emancipated 
from  the  technicality  of  his  profession,  to 
execute  or  enter  into  any  of  his  schemes. 
"  If  I  proposed,"  he  said,  ''  any  new  idea, 
I  had  Gantheaume  and  all  the  marine  de- 
partment to  contend  with — Sir,  that  is  im- 
possible— Sir,  the  winds — the  calms — the 
currents,  will  not  permit  it ;  and  thus  I  was 
stopped  short."  We  believe  little  dread 
could  have  been  entertained  of  the  result 
of  naval  combinations,  in  which  the  influ- 
4nce  of  the  winds  and  Vr-aves  were  not  pre- 
viously and  accurately  calculated  ;  and 
that  British  seamen  would  have  desired 
•othiog  more  ardently,  than  that  their  ene- 


mies should  have  acted  upon  a  system  iu 
which  these  casualties  were  neglected, 
even  if  that  system  had  been  derived  from 
the  genius  of  Napoleon. 

But,  secondly,  there  was  this  great  dif- 
ference betwixt  the  land  and  the  sea  ser- 
vice, to  which  (the  vehemence  of  his  wish- 
es, doubtless,  overpowering  his  judgment) 
Buonaparte  did  not  give  sufficient  weight. 
Upon  land,  the  excellence  of  the  French 
troops,  their  discipline,  and  the  enthusi'- 
asm  arising  from  uninterrupted  success^ 
might  be  safely  reckoned  upon  as  likely  to 
bear  down  any  obstacle  which  they  might 
unexpectedly  meet  with,  in  the  executioa 
of  the  movements  which  they  were  com- 
manded to  undertake.  The  situation  of  the 
French  seamen  was  diametrically  the  con- 
trary. Their  only  chance  of  safely  consist- 
ed in  their  being  able  to  elude  a  rencontre 
with  a  British  squadron,  even  of  very  infe- 
rior force.  So  much  was  this  the  case  at 
the  period  of  which  we  treat,  that  Linois, 
their  admiral  in  the  East  Indian  seas,  com- 
manding an  eighty-four-gun  ship,  and  at  the 
head  of  a  considerable  squadron  of  ships  of 
war,  was  baffled  and  beaten  off  in  the  Straits 
of  Malacca  by  a  squadron  of  merchant  ves- 
sels belonging  to  the  British  East  India 
Company,  although  built  of  course  for  traf- 
fic, and  not  for  war,  and,  as  usual  in  war 
time,  very  imperfectly  manned. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  great  and  es- 
sential difference  which  we  have  pointed 
out  between  the  French  navy  and  their 
land  forces,  and  that  the  former  was  even 
more  inferior  to  that  of  England  than  the 
continental  troops  in  general  were  to  the 
F'rench  soldiers,  it  is  evident  that  Buona- 
parte, when  talking  of  ships  of  the  line, 
was  always  thinking  of  battalions.  Thue 
he  imagines  that  the  defeat  of  the  Nile 
might  have  been  prevented,  had  the  head- 
most vessels  of  the  French  line,  instead 
of  remaining  at  anchor,  slipped  their  ca- 
bles, and  borne  down  to  the  assistance  of 
those  which  were  first  attacked  by  the 
British.  But  in  urging  this,  the  leading 
principle  of  the  manoeuvre  of  breaking  the 
line,  had  totally  escaped  the  French  Empe- 
ror. It  was  tlie  boast  of  the  patriotic  sage,* 
who  illustrated  and  recommended  this 
most  important  system  of  naval  tactics,  that 
it  could  serve  the  purpose  of  a  British  fleet 


*  The  late  John  Clerk  of  Eldin  ;  a  name  nev- 
er to  he  mcntionsd  by  Britons  without  respect  and 
veneration,  since,  until  his  systematic  Essay  upon 
Naval  Tactics  appeared,  the  breaking  of  the  line 
(whatever  professional  jealousy  may  allege  to  th9 
contrary)  was  never  practised  on  decided  and  de- 
fined principle.  His  suavity,  nay,  simplicity  of 
manner,  equalled  the  originality  of  his  genius. 
This  trifling  tribute  is  due  from  one,  who,  honour- 
ed with  Ills  regard  from  boyhood,  has  stood  by  his 
side,  while  he  w.is  detailing  and  illustratiug  tba 
system  which  taught  British  seamen  to  under- 
stand and  use  their  own  force  at  an  age  so  early, 
that  ho  can  remember  having  been  guilty  of  ab- 
stracting from  the  table  some  of  tlio  little  cork 
models  by  which  Mr.  Clerk  exemplified  his  m»- 
nicuvres  ;  unchecked  but  by  his  good-humoured 
raillery,  when  he  missed  a  supposed  lino-of-batti» 
ship,  and  complained  that  the  demonstratioa  WM 
cripplod  by  its  absence. 


422 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


{Chap.  LI. 


only.  The  general  principle  is  briefly  this  : 
By  breaking  through  the  line,  a  certain 
number  of  sliips  are  separated  from  the  rest, 
which  the  remainder  must  either  abandon 
to  their  fate  by  sailing  away,  or  endeavour 
to  save  by  bearing  down,  or  doubling  as  it 
were,  upon  the  assailants,  and  engaging  in 
a  close  and  general  engagement.  ]Vow, 
this  last  alternative  is  what  Buonaparte 
recommends, — what  he  would  certainly 
have  practised  on  laud, — and  what  he  did 
practise,  in  order  to  extricate  his  right 
wing,  at  Marengo.  But  the  relative  supe- 
riority of  the  English  navy  is  so  great,  that, 
while  it  is  maintained,  a  close  engagement 
with  an  enemy  in  the  least  approaching  to 
equality,  is  equivalent  to  a  victory  ;  and  to 
recommend  a  plan  of  tactics  which  should 
render  such  a  battle  inevitable,  would  be, 
in  other  words,  advising  a  French  admiral 
to  lose  his  whole  fleet,  instead  of  sacrificing 
those  ships  which  the  English  manoiuvre 
had  cut  off",  and  crowding  sail  to  save  such 
as  were  yet  unengaged. 

Under  this  consciousness  of  inferiority, 
the  escape  of  a  Spanish  or  French  squad- 
ron, when  a  gale  of  wind  forced,  from  the 
port  in  which  they  lay,  the  British  block- 
ading vessels,  was  a  matter,  the  ultimate 
success  of  which  depended  not  alone  on 
the  winds  and  waves,  but  still  more  upon 
the  chance  of  their  escaping  any  part  of  the 
hostile  navy,  with  whom  battle,  except 
with  the  most  exorbitantsuperiority  on  their 
side,  was  certain  and  unavoidable  defeat. 
Their  efforts  to  comply  with  the  wishes 
of  the  Emperor  of  France,  were  there- 
fore so  partially  conducted,  so  insulated, 
and  so  ineffectual,  that  they  rather  resem- 
bled the  children's  game  of  Hide  and  Seek, 
than  anything  like  a  system  of  regular  com- 
bination. A  more  hasty  and  less  cautious 
compliance  with  Napoleon's  earnest  wishes 
to  assemble  a  predominant  naval  force, 
would  have  only  occasioned  the  total  de- 
struction of  the  combined  fleets  at  an  ear- 
lier period  than  when  it  actually  took  place. 

Upon  this  desultory  principle,  and  seizing 
the  opportunity  of  the  blockading  squadron 
being  driven  by  weather  from  the  vicinity 
of  their  harbour,  a  squadron  of  ten  French 
vessels  escaped  from  Rochefort  on  the  11th 
of  January  1805;  and  another,  under  Vil- 
leneuve,  got  out  of  Toulon  on  the  18th  by 
a  similarly  favourable  opportunity.  The 
former,  after  rendering  some  trifling  servi- 
ces in  the  West  Indies,  was  fortunate 
enougii  to  regain  the  port  from  which  they 
had  sailed,  with  the  pride  of  a  party  who 
have  sallied  from  a  besieged  town,  and  re- 
turned into  it  without  loss.  Villeneuve  al- 
so regained  Toulon  without  disaster,  and, 
encouraged  by  his  success,  made  a  second 
sortie  upon  ihc  loth  of  March,  having  on 
board  a  large  body  of  troops,  designed,  it 
was  supposed,  for  a  descent  upon  Ireland 
or  Scotlaiid.  Fie  made,  however,  towards 
Cadiz,  and  formed  a  iunction  tlierc  with 
the  Spanish  fleet  under  Gravina.  They 
sailed  for  the  West  fndies,  where  the  joint  1 
squadrons  were  able  to  possess  themselves  | 
of  a  rock  called  Diamond,  which  is  scarce  ' 
to  be  discovered  on  the  ran;) ;  and  with  ! 


this  trophy,  which  served  at  least  to 
show  they  had  been  actually  out  of  har- 
bour, they  returned  with  all  speed  to 
Europe.  ,Ss  for  executing  manoeuvres, 
and  forming  combinations,  as  Napoleon's 
plans  would  lead  us  to  infer,  was  the  pur- 
pose of  their  hurried  expedition,  they  at- 
tempted none,  save  of  that  kind  which  the 
liare  executes  when  the  hound  is  at  his 
lieels.  Nelson,  they  were  aware,  was  in 
full  pursuit  of  them,  and  to  have  attempt- 
ed anything  which  involved  a  delay,  or 
gave  a  chance  of  his  coming  up  with  them, 
was  to  court  destruction.  They  were  so 
fortunate  as  to  escape  him,  though  very  nar- 
rowly, yet  did  not  reach  their  harbours  in 
safety. 

On  the  23d  July,  the  combined  fleets  fell 
in  with  Sir  Robert  Calder,  commanding  a 
British  squadron.  The  enemy  amounted 
to  twenty  sail  of  the  line,  three  fifty-gun 
ships,  and  four  frigates,  and  the  British  to 
fifteen  sail  of  the  line,  and  two  frigates  on- 
ly. Under  this  disparity  of  force,  never- 
theless, the  English  admiral  defeated  the 
enemy,  and  took  two  ships  of  the  line  ;  yet 
such  was  the  opinion  in  both  countries  of 
the  comparative  superiority  of  the  British 
navy,  that  the  French  considered  their  es- 
cape as  a  kind  of  triumph.  Buonaparte 
alone  grumbled  against  V^illeneuve,  for  not 
having  made  use  of  his  advantages,  for  so 
it  pleased  him  to  term  an  engagement  in 
which  two  ships  of  the  line  were  lost; 
whilst  the  English  murmured  at  the  inade- 
quate success  of  Sir  Robert  Calder,  against 
an  enemy  of  such  superior  strength,  as  if 
he  had  performed  somelliing  less  than  hia 
duty.  A  court-martial  ratified,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  the  popular  opinion  ;  though  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  impartial  posteri- 
ty will  concur  in  the  justice  of  the  censure 
which  was  passed  upon  the  gallant  admi- 
ral. At  any  other  period  of  our  naval  his- 
tory, the  action  of  the  23d  of  July  would 
have  been  rnted  as  a  distinguished  victory. 

The  combined  fleets  escaped  into  Vigo, 
wliere  they  refitted  ;  and,  venturing  to  sail 
from  that  port,  they  proceeded  to  Ferrol, 
united  themselves  with  the  squadron  which 
was  lying  there,  and  continued  their  course 
for  Cadiz,  which  they  entered  in  safety. 
This  did  not  consist  with  the  plans  of  Buo- 
naparte, who  would  have  had  the  whole  na- 
val force  united  at  Brest,  to  be  in  readiness 
to  cover  the  descent  upon  England.  ''  Gen- 
eral terror  was  spread,"  he  said,  "  through- 
out that  divided  nation,  and  never  was  Eng- 
land so  near  to  destruction."  Of  the  gen- 
eral terror,  few  of  the  British,  we  believe, 
remember  anything,  and  of  the  imminent 
danger  we  were  not  sensible.  Had  the 
combined  fleets  entered  the  British  Chan- 
nel, instead  of  the  Mediterranean,  they 
would  have  found  the  same  admiral,  the 
same  seamen,  nay,  in  many  instances,  the 
same  ships,  to  which  Villeneuve's  retreat 
into  Cadiz  gave  the  trouble  of  going  to  seek 
him  there. 

When  the  certainty  was  known  that  the 
enemy's  fleets  were  actually  in  Cadiz,  Nel- 
son was  put  at  the  head  of  the  British  na- 
val force  ID  the  Mediterranean,  which  wm 


Chap.  LI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


423 


reinforced  with  an  alertness  and  secrecy 
that  did  the  highest  honour  to  the  Admiral- 
ty. V'illeneuve,  in  the  meantime,  had,  it  is 
believed,  his  mrster's  express  orders  to  put 
to  sea  ;  and  if  he  had  been  censured  for 
want  of  zeal  in  the  action  off  Cape  Finis- 
terre  with  Calder,  he  was  likely,  as  a  brave 
man,  to  determine  on  running  some  risk  to 
prove  the  injustice  of  his  Emperor's  re- 
proaches. Cadiz  also,  being  strictly  block- 
aded by  the  English,  the  fleets  of  France 
and  Spain  began  to  be  in  want  of  necessa- 
ries. But  what  principally  determined  the 
French  admiral  on  putting  to  sea,  was  his 
ignorance  of  the  reinforcements  received 
by  the  English,  which,  though  they  left 
Nelson's  fleet  still  inferior  to  his  own,  yet 
brought  them  nearer  to  an  equality  than, 
had  he  been  aware  of  it,  would  have  render- 
ed their  meeting  at  all  desirable  to  Ville- 
neuve.  It  was  another  and  especial  point 
of  encouragement,  that  circumstances  led 
him  to  disbelieve  the  report  that  Nelson 
commanded  the  British  fleet.  Under  the 
influence  of  these  united  motives,  and  con- 
fiding in  a  plan  of  tactics  which  he  had  form- 
ed for  resisting  the  favourite  mode  of  at- 
tack practised  by  the  English,  the  French 
admiral  sailed  from  Cadiz  on  the  19th  Oc- 
tober 1805,  in  an  evil  hour  for  himself  and 
for  his  country. 

The  hostile  fleets  were  not  long  of  meet- 
ing, and  the  wind  never  impelled  along  the 
ocean  two  more  gallant  armaments.  The 
advantage  of  numbers  was  greatly  on  the 
side  of  Villeneuve.  He  had  thirty-three 
sail  of  the  line,  and  seven  large  frigates  ; 
Nelson  only  twenty-seven  line-of-battle 
ships,  and  three  frigates.  The  inferiority  of 
the  English  in  number  of  men  and  guns  was 
yet  more  considerable.  The  combined  fleet 
nad  four  thousand  troops  on  board,  many  of 
whom,  excellent  rifle-men,  were  placed  in 
the  tops.  But  all  odds  were  compensated 
by  the  quality  of  the  British  sailors,  and  the 
talents  of  Nelson. 

Villeneuve  showed  no  inclination  to  shun 
the  eventful  action.  His  disposition  was 
singular  and  ingenious.  His  fleet  formed  a 
double  line,  each  alternate  ship  being  about 
a  cable's  length  to  the  windward  of  her 
second  a-hcad  and  a-stem,  and  thus  the  ar- 
rangement represented  the  chequers  of  a 
draught-board,  and  seemed  to  guard  against 
the  operation  of  cutting  the  line,  as  usually 
practised  by  the  British.  But  Nelson  had 
determined  to  practise  the  manoeuvre  in  a 
manner  ns  original  as  the  mode  of  defence 
adopted  by  Villeneuve.  His  order  for  sail- 
ing was  in  two  lines,  and  this  was  also  the 
order  for  battle.  .\a  advanced  squadron  of 
eight  of  the  fastest  sailing  two-deckers,  was 
to  cut  ofl"  three  or  four  of  the  enemies  line, 
a-head  of  their  centre  ;  the  second  in  com- 
mand, Admiral  Collingwood,  was  to  break 
in  upon  the  enemy  about  the  twelfth  ship 
from  the  rear,  and  Nelson  himself  deter- 
mined to  bear  down  on  the  centre.  The  ef- 
fect of  these  mancruvres  must  of  course  be 
a  close  and  general  action  ;  for  the  rest, 
Nelson  knew  he  could  trust  to  the  detc>r- 
mination  of  his  officers  and  seamen.  To  his 
•dtnirals  and  oflicera  be  explained  in  gen- 


eral, that  his  object  was  a  close  and  deci- 
sive engagement ;  and  that  if,  in  the  confu- 
sion and  smoke  of  the  battle,  signals  should 
not  be  visible,  the  captain  would  never  do 
wrong  who  laid  his  ship  alongside  of  the 
enemy. 

With  such  dispositions  on  either  side, 
the  two  gallant  fleets  met  on  the  memorable 
21st  of  October.  Admiral  CoUingwood,  who 
led  the  van,  went  down  on  the  enerny  with 
all  his  sails  set,  and,  disdaining  to  furl  them 
in  the  usual  manner,  cut  the  sheets,  and  let 
his  canvass  fly  loose  in  the  wind,  as  if  he 
needed  it  no  longer  after  it  had  borne  him 
amidst  the  thickest  of  the  enemy.  Nelson 
run  his  vessel,  the  Victory,  on  board  the 
French  Redoubtable  ;  theTemeraire,  a  sec- 
ond British  ship,  fell  on  board  the  same 
vessel  on  the  other  side  ;  another  enemy's 
ship  fell  on  board  of  the  Temeraire,  and  the 
action  was  fiercely  maintained  betwixt 
these  four  vessels,  which  lay  as  close  as  if 
they  had  been  moored  together  in  some 
friendly  harbour.  While  the  Victory  thuB 
engaged  the  Redoubtable  on  the  starboard, 
she  maintained  from  her  larboard  guns  an 
incessant  fire  on  the  Bucentaur  and  the  co- 
lossal Santa  Trinidad,  a  vessel  of  four  decks. 
The  example  of  the  Admiral  was  univer- 
sally followed  by  the  British  captains  ;  they 
broke  into  the  enemy's  line  on  every  side, 
engaged  two  or  three  ships  at  the  same  time, 
and  maintained  the  battle  at  the  very  muz- 
zles of  the  cannon.  The  superiority  which 
we  have  claimed  for  our  countrymen  was 
soon  made  manifest.  Nineteen  ships  of  the 
line  were  captured,  two  v»ere  first  rate  ves- 
sels, none  were  under  seventy-four  guns. 
Four  ships  of  the  line  were  taken,  in  a  sub- 
sequent action,  by  Sir  Richard  Strachan. 
Seven  out  of  the  vessels  which  escaped  in- 
to Cadiz  were  rendered  unserviceable.  The 
whole  combined  fleet  was  almost  totally  de- 
stroyed. 

It  is  twenty  years  and  upwards  since  that 
glorious  day.  But  the  feelings  of  deep  sor- 
row, mingled  with  those  of  exultation,  with 
which  we  first  heard  the  tidings  of  the  bat- 
tle of  Trafalgar,  still  agitate  our  bosoms,  as 
we  record,  that  Nelson,  the  darling  of  Brit- 
ain, bought  with  his  life  this  last  and  decid- 
ed triumph  over  his  country'.^  enemies.  A 
Briton  himself  in  every  word  and  thought, 
the  discharge  of  a  sailor's  duty,  according  to 
his  idea,  was  a  debt  involving  every  feat 
which  the  most  esalted  bravery  could  per- 
form, and  every  risk  which  the  extremity  of 
danger  could  present.  The  word  to  which 
he  attached  such  an  unlimited  meaning, 
was  often  in  his  mouth  ;  the  idea  never,  we 
believe,  absent  from  his  mind.  His  last 
signal  intimated  that  England  expected 
every  man  to  do  hia  duty.  His  first  words 
on  entering  the  action  were,  "  I  thank  tb« 
great  Disposer  of  events  for  this  great  op- 
portunity of  doing  my  duty  ;"  and  with  hia 
last  departing  breath,  he  was  distinctly 
heard  to  repeat  the  same  pious  and  patriot- 
ic sentiment,  ''  I  thank  God  I  have  done  my 
duty."*    That  duty  was  indeed  performed, 


*See,  for  these  and  other  particulars  of  the  bat- 
tle ofTrafalgur,  Southoy's  lifa  of  Nelson,  a  worit 


424 


LIFE  OF  N.iPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LI. 


even  to  the  utmost  extent  of  his  own  com- 
prehensive interpretation  of  the  phrase. 
The  good  servant  of  his  country  slept  not 
before  his  task  was  fultilled  5  for,  by  the 
victory  in  which  he  fell,  the  naval  force  of 
the  enemy  was  altogether  destroyed,  and 
the  threat  of  invasion  silenced  for  ever. 

It  is  a  remarkable  coincidence,  that 
Mack's  surrender  having  taken  place  on  the 
20th  October,  Napoleon  was  probably  en- 
tering Ulm  in  triumph  upon  the  very  day. 
when  the  united  remains  of  his  maritime 
force,  and  the  means  on  which,  according 
to  his  own  subsequent  account,  he  relied 
for  the  subjugation  of  England,  were  flying, 
striking,  and  sinking,  before  the  banners  of 
Nelson.  What  his  feelings  may  have  been 
OQ  learning  the  news,  we  have  no  certain 
means  of  ascertaining.  The  Memoirs  of 
Fouche  say,  upon  the  alleged  authority  of 
Berthier,  that  his  emotion  was  extreme, 
and  that  his  first  exclamation  was,  "  I  can- 
not be  everywhere!"  implying,  certainly, 
that  his  own  presence  would  have  changed 
the  scene.  The  same  idea  occurs  in  liis 
conversations  with  Las  Casas.  It  may  be 
greatly  doubted,  however,  whether  Napole- 
on would  have  desired  to  have  been  on 
board  the  best  ship  in  the  French  navy  on 
that  memorable  occasion  ;  and  it  seems 
pretty  certain,  that  his  being  so  could  have 
had  no  influence  whatever  on  the  fate  of  the 
day.  The  unfortunate  Villeneuve  dared 
not  trust  to  his  master's  forgiveness.  "  He 
ought,"  so  Buonaparte  states  it,  "  to  have 
been  victorious,  and  he  was  defeated."  For 
this,  although  the  mishap  which  usually 
must  attend  one  out  of  the  two  comman- 
ders who  engage  in  action,  Villeneuve 
felt  there  was  no  apology  to  be  accepted, 
or  even  offered,  and  the  brave  but  unfortu- 
nate seaman  committed  suicide.  Buona- 
parte, on  all  occasions,  spoke  with  disre- 
spect of  his  memory  ;  nor  was  it  a  sign  of 
his  judgment  in  nautical  matters,  that  he 
preferred  to  this  able,  but  unfortunate  ad- 
miral, the  gasconading  braggart,  Latouche 
Treville.* 


already  repeatedly  quoted.  It  is  the  history  of  a 
hero,  in  the  narrative  of  which  are  evinced  at  once 
the  judgment  and  fidelity  of  the  historian,  with  the 
imagination  of  the  poet.  It  well  deserves  to  be, 
what  already  it  is,  the  text  book  of  the  British 

•This  admiral  commanded  at  Toulon  in  1804, 
•nd  having  stolen  out  of  harbour  with  a  strong 
■quadron,  when  the  main  body  of  the  English  fleet 
was  out  of  sight,  had  t)io  sritisfactiun  to  see  three 
Tosaols,  under  Rear-Admiral  Campbell,  retreat  be- 
fore his  superior  force.  This  unusual  circuni- 
itanco  so  elated  Monsieur  Latouche  Treville,  that 
he  converted  the  affair  into  a  general  pursuit  of  th» 
whole  Britisli  fleet,  and  ofNelson  himself,  who,  h'^ 
pretended,  fled  before  him.  Nelson  was  so  much 
nettled  at  his  effrontery,  that  he  wrote  to  his  bro- 
ther, "  Vou  will  have  seen  Latouclic's  letter,  how 
he  chased  me  and  how  I  run.  1  keep  it,  and  if 
I  take  him,  by  God — he  shall  eat  it."  I/atouclie 
escaped  this  pnnishment  by  dying  of  tlie  fatigue 
incurred  by  walking  so  often  up  to  the  signal-post 
at  Sepet,  to  watch  for  the  momentary  absence  of 
U>e  blockading  squadron,  which  he  pretended  dared 
Dotface  him  This  man  Buonaparte  considered  is 
tlte  boost  of  the  French  navy 


The  unfortunate  event  of  the  battle  of 
Trafalgar  was  not  permitted  to  darken  the 
brilliant  picture,  which  the  extraordinary 
campaign  of  Ulm  and  Austerlitz  enabled  the 
victor  to  present  to  the  empire  which  ho 
governed,  and  which  detailed  his  successes 
in  the  full-blown  pride  of  conquest,  "His 
armies,"  he  said,  addressing  the  Legislative 
Body,  the  session  of  which  he  opened  with 
great  pomp  on  2d  March  1806,  "  had  nev- 
er ceased  to  conquer,  until  he  commanded 
them  to  cease  to  combat.  His  enemies 
were  humbled  and  confounded — the  royal 
house  of  Naples  had  ceased  to  reign /or  ev- 
er— (the  term  was  too  comprehensive) — the 
entire  peninsula  of  Italy  now  made  apart  of 
the  Great  Empire — his  generosity  had  per- 
mitted the  return  of  the  defeated  Russians 
to  their  own  country,  and  had  re-establish- 
ed the  throne  of  Austria,  after  punishing  her 
by  the  privation  of  a  part  of  her  dominions." 
Trafalgar  was  then  touched  upon.  "  A 
tempest,"  he  said,  "  had  deprived  him  of 
some  few  vessels,  after  a  combat  impru- 
dently entered  into  ;" — and  thus  he  glossed 
over  a  calamitous  and  decisive  defeat,  in 
which  so  many  of  his  hopes  were  ship- 
wrecked. 

When  a  sovereign  has  not  sufficient  great- 
ness of  mind  to  acknowledge  his  losses,  we 
may,  without  doing  him  wrong,  suspect  him 
of  exaggerating  his  successes.  Those  of 
France,  in  her  external  relations,  were  in- 
deed scarcely  capable  of  being  over-esti- 
mated. But  when  Monsieur  de  Champag- 
ny,  on  the  5th  March  following,  made  a 
relation  of  the  internal  improvements  of 
France  under  the  government  of  Buona- 
parte, he  seems  to  have  assumed  the  merit 
of  those  which  only  existed  upon  paper,  and 
of  others  which  were  barely  commenced, 
as  well  as  of  some  that  were  completed.  All 
was  of  course  ascribed  to  the  inspiring  gen- 
ius of  the  Emperor,  to  whose  agency  Franc* 
was  indebted  for  all  her  prosperity.  The 
credit  of  the  good  city  of  Paris  was  restor- 
ed, and  her  revenue  doubled — agriculture 
was  encouraged,  by  the  draining  of  immense 
morasses — mendicity  was  abolished.  Ben- 
eficial results,  apparently  inconsistent  with 
each  other,  were  produced  by  his  regula- 
tions— the  expenses  of  legal  proceedings 
were  abridged,  and  the  appointments  of  the 
judges  were  raised.  Immense  and  meet 
expensive  improvements,  which,  in  other 
countries,  or  rather  under  other  sovereigns, 
are  necessarily  reserved  for  times  of  peace, 
were  carried  on  by  Napoleon  during  tha 
most  burdensome  wars  against  entire  Eu- 
rope. Forty  millions  had  been  expended 
on  public  works,  of  which  eight  great  canal* 
were  quoted  with  peculiar  emphasis,  aa 
opening  all  the  departments  of  the  empire  to 
the  influence  of  internal  navigation.  To 
conclude,  the  Emperor  had  established 
three  hundred  and  seventy  schools — had  re- 
stored the  rites  of  religion — reinforced  pub- 
lic credit  by  supporting  the  Bank — reconcil- 
ed jarring  factions— diminished  the  public 
imposts — and  ameliorated  the  condition  of 
every  existing  Frenchman.  To  judge  from 
the  rapturous  expressions  of  Monsieur  de 
Champagny,  the  Emperor  was  already  the 


Chap.  LI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


425 


■ubject  of  deserved  adoration  :  it  only  re- 
mained to  found  temples  and  raise  altars. 

Much  of  this  statement  was  unquestiona- 
bly the  exaggeration  of  flattery,  which  rep- 
resented everything  as  commenced  as  soon 
as  it  had  been  resolved  upon  by  the  sove- 
reign, everything  finished  as  soon  as  it  was 
begun.  Other  measures  there  were,  which, 
like  the  support  afforded  to  the  Bank,  mere- 
ly repaired  injures  which  Napoleon  himself 
had  inflicted.  The  credit  of  this  comraer-- 
cial  establishment  had  been  shaken,  be- 
cause, in  setting  off  for  the  campaign,  Na- 
poleon had  stripped  it  of  the  reserve  of  spe- 
cie laid  up  to  answer  demands ;  and  it  was 
restored,  because  his  return  with  victory 
had  enabled  him  to  replace  what  he  had 
borrowed.  Considering  that  there  was  no 
•mall  hazard  of  his  being  unable  to  remedy 
the  evil  which  he  had  certainly  occasion- 
6d,  his  conduct  on  the  occasion  scarcely 
deserves  the  name  of  a  national  benefit. 

Some  part  of  this  exaggeration  might 
even  deceive  Napoleon.  It  is  one  of  the 
great  disadvantages  of  despotism,  that  the 
sovereign  himself  is  liable  to  be  imposed 
npon  by  false  representations  of  this  nature  ; 
aa  it  is  said  the  Empress  Catherine  was  flat- 
tered by  the  appearance  of  distant  villages 
and  towns  in  the  desert  places  of  her  em- 
pire, which  were,  in  fact,  no  more  than 
painted  representations  of  such  objects,  up- 
on the  plan  of  those  that  are  exhibited  on 
the  stage,  or  are  erected  as  points  of  view 
in  some  fantastic  pleasure  gardens.  It  was 
a  part  of  Buonaparte's  character  to  seize 
with  ready  precision  upon  general  ideas  of 
improvement.  Wherever  he  came,  he  form- 
ed plans  of  important  public  works,  many  of 
which  never  existed  but  in  the  bulletin. 
Having  issued  his  general  orders,  he  was 
apt  to  hold  them  as  executed.  It  was  im- 
possible to  do  all  himself,  or  even  to  over- 
look with  accuracy  those  to  whom  the  de- 
tails were  committed.  There  were,  there- 
fore, many  magnificent  schemes  commen- 
ced, under  feelings  of  the  moment,  which 
were  left  unfinished  for  want  of  funds,  or 
perhaps  because  they  only  regarded  some 
points  of  local  interest,  and  there  were  ma- 
ny adopted  that  were  forgotten  amid  the 
hurry  of  affairs,  or  postponed  till  the  mo- 
ment of  peace,  which  was  never  to  appear 
during  his  reign. 

But  with  the  same  frankness  with  which 
history  is  bound  to  censure  the  immeasura- 
ble ambition  of  this  extraordinary  man,  she 
is  bound  also  to  record  that  his  views  to- 
wards the  improvement  of  his  empire  were 
broad,  clear-sighted,  and  public-spirited  ; 
and  we  think  it  probable,  that,  had  his  pas- 
iSion  for  war  been  a  less  predominant  point 
of  his  character,  his  care,  applied  to  the  ob- 
jects of  peace,  would  have  done  as  much 
for  France,  as  Augustus  did  for  Rome.  Still 
it  must  be  added,  that,  having  bereft  his 
country  of  her  freedom,  and  proposing  to 
transmit  the  empire,  like  his  own  patrimo- 
ny, to  his  heirs,  the  evil  which  he  had  done 
to  France  was  as  permanent  as  his  system 
of  government,  while  the  benefits  which  he 
had  conferred  on  her,  to  whatever  extent 
ihey  might  have  been  realized,  must  have 


been  dependent  upon  his  own  life,  and  the 
character  of  his  successo» 

But  as  such  reflections  had  not  prevent- 
ed Napoleon  from  raising  the  fabric  of  su- 
preme power,  to  the  summit  of  which  he  had 
ascended,  so  they  did  not  now  prevent  him 
from  surrounding  and  strengthening  it  with 
such  additional  bulwarks  as  he  could  find 
materials  for  erecting,  at  the  expense  of 
the  foes  whom  he  subdued.  Sensible  of 
the  difficulty,  or  rather  the  impossibility,  of 
retaining  all  power  in  his  own  hands,  be 
now  bent  himself  so  to  modify  and  organ- 
ize the  governments  of  the  countries  ad- 
jacent, that  they  should  always  be  depend- 
ent upon  France  ;  and  to  insure  this  point, 
he  determined  to  vest  immediate  relations 
of  his  own  with  the  supreme  authority  ia 
those  states,  which,  under  the  name  of  al- 
lies, were  to  pay  to  France  the  same  hom- 
age in  peace,  and  render  her  the  same  ser- 
vices in  war,  which  ancient  Rome  exacted 
from  the  countries  which  she  had  subdued. 
Germany,  Holland,  and  Italy,  were  each 
destined  to  furnish  an  appanage  to  tha 
princes  born  of  the  Imperial  blood  of  Napo- 
leon, or  connected  with  it  by  matrimonial 
alliances.  In  return  for  these  benefits,  Buo- 
naparte was  disposed  to  subject  his  broth- 
ers to  the  ordinary  monarchical  restric- 
tions, which  preclude  princes  nearly  con- 
nected with  the  throne  from  forming  mar- 
riages according  to  their  own  private  inclin- 
ations, and  place  them  in  this  respect  en- 
tirely at  the  devotion  of  the  monarch,  and 
destined  to  form  such  political  alliances  as 
may  best  suit  his  views.  They  belonged, 
he  said,  in  the  decree  creating  them,  en- 
tirely to  the  country,  and  must  therefore  lay 
aside  every  sentiment  cf  individual  feeling, 
when  the  public  weal  required  such  a  sac- 
rifice. 

Two  of  Napoleon's  brothers  resisted  this 
species  of  authority.  The  services  which 
Lucien  had  rendered  him,  upon  the  18th 
Brumaire,  although  without  his  prompt  as- 
sistance that  daring  adventure  might  have 
altogether  failed,  had  not  saved  him  from 
falling  under  the  Imperial  displeasure.  It  is 
said  that  he  had  disapproved  of  the  distruc- 
tion  of  the  Republic,  and  that,  in  remon- 
strating against  the  murder  of  the  Duke 
d'Enghien,  he  had  dared  to  tell  his  brother 
that  such  conduct  would  cause  the  people 
to  cast  himself  and  his  kindred  into  the 
common  sewer,  as  they  had  done  the  corpse 
of  Marat.  But  Lucien's  principal  ofience 
consisted  in  his  refusing  to  part  with  his 
wife,  a  beautiful  and  affectionate  woman,  for 
the  purpose  of  forming  an  alliance  more 
suited  to  the  views  of  Napoleon.  He  re- 
mained,therefore,  long  in  a  private  situation, 
notwithstanding  the  talent  and  decision 
which  he  had  evinced  on  many  occasions 
during  the  Revolution,  and  was  only  restor- 
ed to  his  brother's  favour  and  countenance, 
when,  after  his  return  from  Elba,  his  sup- 
port became  again  of  importance.  Jerome, 
the  youngest  brother  of  the  family,  incurred 
also  for  a  time  his  brother's  displeasure, 
by  having  formed  a  matrimonial  connexion 
with  an  American  lady  of  beauty  and  accom- 
plishments. Complying  with  the  commanda 


426 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LI. 


of  Napoleon,  he  was  at  a  In.ter  period  re- 
Btored  to  his  favour,  but  at  present  he  too 
was  in  disgrace.  Neither  Lucien  nor  Je- 
rome was  therefore  mentioned  in  the  spe- 
cies of  entail,  which,  in  default  of  Napo- 
leon's naming  his  successor,  destined  the 
French  Empire  to  Joseph  and  Louis  in  suc- 
cession ;  nor  were  the  former  called  upon 
to  partake  in  the  splendid  provisions,  which 
after  the  campaign  of  Ansterlitz,  Napoleon 
was  enabled  to  make  for  the  other  members 
of  his  family. 

Of  these  establishments,  the  most  prince- 
ly were  the  provinces  of  Holland,  which 
Napoleon  now  converted  into  a  kingdom, 
and  conferred  upon  Louis  Buonaparte. 
This  transmutation  of  a  republic,  whose 
independence  was  merely  nominal,  into  a 
kingdom,  which  was  completely  and  abso- 
lutely subordinate,  was  effected  by  little 
more  than  an  expression  of  the  French  Em- 
peror's will  that  such  an  alteration  should 
take  place.  The  change  was  accomplished 
without  attracting  much  attention  ;  for  the 
Batavian  Republic  was  placed  so  absolutely 
at  Buonaparte's  mercy,  as  to  have  no  power 
whatever  to  dispute  his  pleasure.  They 
had  followed  the  French  Revolution 
through  all  its  phases  ;  and  under  their 
present  constitution,  a  Grand  Pensionary, 
who  had  the  sole  right  of  presenting  new 
laws  for  adoption,  and  who  was  accountable 
to  no  one  for  the  acts  of  his  administration, 
corresponded  to  the  First  Consul  of  the 
French  Consular  Government.  This  of- 
fice-bearer was  now  to  assume  the  name  of 
King,  as  his  prototype  had  done  that  of  Em- 
peror ;  but  the  King  was  to  be  chosen  from 
the  family  of  Buonaparte. 

On  the  18th  M,->rch  1806,  the  secretary 
of  the  Dutch  Legation  at  Paris  arrived  at  the 
Hague,  bearing  a  secret  commission.  The 
States  General  were  convoked — the  Grand 
Pensionary  was  consulted — and  finally,  a 
deputation  was  sent  to  Paris,  requesting 
that  the  Prince  Louis  Napoleon  should  be 
created  hereditary  King  of  Holland.  Buon- 
aparte's assent  was  graciously  given,  and 
the  transaction  was  concluded. 

It  is  indeed  probable,  that  though  the 
change  was  in  every  degree  contradictory 
of  their  habits  and  opinions,  the  Dutch  sub- 
mitted to  it  as  affording  a  prospect  of  a  de- 
sirable relief  from  the  disputes  and  factions 
which  then  divided  their  government.  Lou- 
is Buonaparte  was  of  a  singularly  amiable 
and  gentle  disposition.  Besides  his  near 
relationship  to  Napoleon,  he  was  married 
to  Hortensia,  the  daughter  of  Josephine, 
etep-child  of  course  tc  the  Emperor,  and 
who  was  supposed  to  snare  a  great  propor- 
tion of  his  favour.  The  conquered  States  of 
Holland,  no  longer  the  High  and  Mighty,  as 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  style  them- 
selves, hoped,  in  adopting  a  monarch  so 
nearly  and  intimately  connected  with  Buon- 
aparte, and  received  from  his  hand,  that 
they  might  be  permitted  to  enjoy  the  pro- 
tection of  France,  and  be  secured  against 
the  subaltern  oppression  exercised  over 
their  commerce  and  their  country.  The 
acceptance  of  Louis  as  their  King,  they  im- 
agined, must  establish  for  them  a  powerful 


protector  in  the  councils  of  that  Autocrat, 
at  whose  disposal  they  were  necessarily 
placed.  Louis  Buonaparte  was  therefore 
received  as  King  of  Holland.  How  far  the 
Prince  and  hi.?  subjects  experienced  fulfil- 
ment of  the  hopes  which  both  naturally 
entertained,  belongs  to  another  page  of  thia 
history. 

Germany  also  was  doomed  to  find  more 
than  one  appanage  for  the  Duonaparte  fami- 
ly. The  effect  of  the  campaign  of  Ulm  and 
Austerlitz  had  been  almost  entirely  de- 
structive of  the  influence  which  the  House 
of  Austria  had  so  long  possessed  in  the 
south-west  districts  of  Germany.  Stripped 
of  her  dominions  in  the  Vorarlberg  and  the 
Tyrol,  as  she  had  formerly  been  of  the  larg- 
er portion  of  the  Netherlands,  she  was  flung 
far  back  from  that  portion  of  Germany  bor- 
dering on  the  right  of  the  Rhine  where  she 
had  formerly  exercised  so  muc  i  authority, 
and  often,  it  must  be  confessed,  with  no 
gentle  hand. 

Defeated  and  humbled,  the  Emperor  of 
Austria,  was  no  longer  able  to  offer  any  op- 
position to  the  projects  of  aggrandizement 
which  Napoleon  meditated  in  those  confines 
of  the  empire  which  lay  adjacent  to  the 
Rhine  and  to  France,  of  which  that  river 
had  been  declared  the  boundary;  nor  in- 
deed to  his  scheme  of  entirely  new-mo<Jel- 
ling  the  empire  itself 

Prussia,  however,  rencained  a  party  inter- 
ested, and  too  formidable,  for  her  numerous 
armies  and  high  military  reputation,  to  be 
despised  by  Napoleon.  He  was  indeed 
greatly  dissatisfied  with  her  conduct  during 
the  campaign,  and  by  no  means  inclined 
either  to  forget  or  to  forgive  the  menacing 
attitude  which  the  Court  of  Berlin  had  as- 
sumed, although  finally  determined  by  the 
course  of  events  to  abstain  from  actual  hos- 
tility. i"et  notwithstanding  these  causes 
of  irritation.  Napoleon  still  esteemed  it 
more  politic  to  purchase  Prussia's  acqui- 
escence in  his  projects  by  a  large  sacrifice 
to  her  selfish  interests,  than  to  add  her  to 
the  number  of  his  avowed  enemies.  She 
was  therefore  to  be  largely  propitiated  at 
the  expense  of  some  other  state. 

We  have  already  noticed  the  critical  ar- 
rival of  Haugwitz,  the  prime-minister  of 
Prussia,  at  Vienna,  and  how  the  declara- 
tion of  war  against  France  with  which  he 
was  charged,  was  exchanged  for  a  friendly 
congratulation  to  Napoleon  by  the  event  of 
the  battle  of  Austerlitz.  Napoleon  was  no 
dupe  to  the  versatility  of  the  Prussian  cabi- 
net ;  but  the  Archduke  Ferdinand  had  ral- 
lied a  large  army  in  Bohemia — his  brother 
Charles  was  at  the  head  of  a  yet  larger  in 
Hungary — Alexander,  though  defeated,  rC'* 
fused  to  enter  into  any  treaty,  and  retained 
a  menacing  attitude,  and,  victor  as  he  was, 
Buonaparte  could  not  wish  to  see  the  great 
and  highly-esteemed  military  force  of  Prus- 
sia thrown  into  the  scale  against  him.  He 
entered,  therefore,  into  a  private  treaty  with 
Haugwitz,  whom  he  found  on  this,  as  on 
former  occasions,  much  devoted  to  the 
French  interest.  By  this  agreement,  Prus- 
sia was  to  cede  to  France,  or  rather  to  place 
at  her  disposal,  the  territories  of  Anspach 


Chap.  LI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


427 


and  Bareuth,  and,  by  way  of  indemnifica- 
tion, was  to  have  the  countenance  of  France 
in  occupying  Hanover,  from  which  the 
French  troops  had  been  withdrawn  to  join 
the  Grand  Army. 

The  conduct  of  the  Prussian  minister, — 
for  with  him,  rather  than  with  his  court, 
the  fault  lay, — was  at  once  mean-spirited 
and  unprincipled.  He  made  his  country 
surrender  to  France  that  very  territory 
which  the  French  armies  had  so  recently 
violated,  and  he  accepted  as  an  indemnifi- 
cation the  provinces  belonging  to  the  King 
of  Britain,  with  whom  Prussia  was  so  far 
from  having  any  quarrel,  that  she  had  been 
on  the  point  of  making  common  cause  with 
her  against  the  aggressions  of  France  ;  and 
which  provinces  had  been  seized  by  France 
in  violation  of  tne  rights  of  neutrality 
claimed  by  the  E  ector  of  Hanover,  as  a 
member  of  the  Germanic  Body.  Such 
gross  and  complicated  violations  of  nation- 
al law  and  justice,  have  often  carried  with 
them  their  own  punishment,  nor  did  they 
fail  to  do  so  in  the  present  instance. 

Those  states,  Anspach  and  Bareuth,  with 
Cleves,  which  had  been  ceded  by  Bavaria, 
were  united  into  what  was  called  the 
Grand  Duchy  of  Berg,  which  was  conferred 
as  an  appanage  upon  Joachim  Murat.  Ori- 
ginally a  soldier  of  fortune,  and  an  undaunt- 
ed one,  Murat  had  raised  himself  to  emi- 
nence in  the  Italian  campaigns.  On  the 
18th  Brumaire,  he  commanded  the  party 
whicli  drove  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred 
out  of  their  liall.  In  reward  for  this  ser- 
vice, he  obtained  the  command  of  the  Con- 
sular Guard,  and  the  hand  of  Marie  de 
r.'Vnnonciade,  afterwards  called  Caroline, 
sister  of  Napoleon.  Murat  was  particular- 
ly distinguished  as  a  cavalry  officer ;  his 
handsome  person,  accomplished  horseman- 
ship, and  daring  bravery  at  the  head  of  his 
squadrons,  procured  him  the  title  of  Le 
Beau  Sabreur.  Out  of  the  field  of  battle 
he  was  but  a  weak  man,  liable  to  be  duped 
by  his  own  vanity,  and  the  flattery  of  those 
around  him.  He  affected  a  theatrical  fop- 
pery in  dress,  which  rather  evinced  a  fan- 
tastic love  of  finery  than  good  taste  ;  and 
hence  he  was  sometimes  called  KingFran- 
coivi,  from  the  celebrated  mountebank  of 
thati^me.  His  wife  Caroline  was  an  able 
woman,  and  well  versed  in  political  in- 
trigue. It  will  presently  be  found  that  they 
arose  to  higher  fortunes  than  the  Grand 
Duchy  of  Berg.  Meantime,  Murat  was  in- 
vested with  thehercditary  dignity  of  Grand 
Admiral  of  France  ;  for  it  was  the  policy 
of  Buonaparte  to  maintain  the  attachment 
of  the  new  princes  to  the  Great  Nation, 
were  it  but  by  wearing  some  string  or  tas- 
sel of  his  own  imperial  livery. 

The  fair  territories  of  Naples  and  Sicily 
■were  conferred  upon  Joseph,  the  former 
in  possession,  the  latter  in  prospect.  He 
was  a  "ood  man,  who  often  strove  to  mod- 
erate the  fits  of  violence  to  which  his  broth- 
er gave  way.  In  society,  he  was  accom- 
plished and  amiable,  fond  of  letters,  and, 
though  notpossessert  of  anything  approach- 
ing his  brother's  high  qualifications,  had 
j^tgood  judgment  as  well  as  good  incli- 


nations. Had  he  continued  King  of  Na- 
ples, it  is  probable  he  might  have  been  as 
fortunate  as  Louis,  in  conciliating  the  re- 
spect of  his  subjects  ;  but  his  transference 
to  Spain  was  fatal  to  his  reputation.  In 
conformity  with  the  policy  which  we  have 
noticed,  the  King  of  Naples  was  to  contin- 
ue a  high  feudatory  of  the  Empire,  under 
the  title  of  the  Vice-Grand  Elector. 

The  principality  of  Lucca  had  been  al- 
ready conferred  on  Eliza,  the   eldest  sister 
of  Buonaparte,  and  was  now  augmented  by 
the  districts  of  Massa-Carara  and  Gafagnana. 
She  was  a  woman  of  a  strong  and  mascu- 
I  line    character,   which  did   not,   however, 
I  prevent    her  giving  way  to  the   feminine 
j  weakness  of  encouraging  admirers,  who,  it 
is  said,  did  not  sigh  in  vain. 

The  public  opinion  was  still  less  favour- 
]  able  to  her  younger  sister  Pauline,  who 
I  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  in 
France,  and  perhaps  in  Europe.  Leclerc, 
her  first  husband,  died  in  the  fatal  expedi- 
tion to  St.  Domingo,  and  she  was  after- 
wards married  to  the  Prince  Borghese. 
Her  encouragement  of  the  fine  arts  was  so 
little  limited  by  the  ordinary  ideas  of  de- 
corum, that  the  celebrated  Canova  wai 
permitted  to  model  from  her  person  a  na- 
ked Venus,  the  most  beautiful,  it  is  said,  of 
his  works.*  Scandal  went  the  horrible 
length  of  imputing  to  Pauline  an  intrigue 
with  her  own  brother;  which  we  willingly 
reject  as  a  crime  too  hideous  to  be  even 
mentioned,  far  less  imputed  to  any  one, 
without  the  most  satisfactory  evidence. 
The  gross  and  guilty  enormities  practised 
by  the  ancient  Roman  emperors,  do  not  be- 
long to  the  character  of  Buonaparte,  though 
such  foul  aspersions  have  been  cast  upon 
him  by  those  who  were  willing  to  represent 
him  as  in  all  respects  the  counterpart  of 
Tiberius  or  Caligula.  Pauline  Borghese 
received  the  principality  of  Guastalla,  in 
the  distribution  of  honours  among  the  fami- 
ly of  Napoleon. 

At  this  period,  also,  Buonaparte  began 
first  to  display  a  desire  of  engrafting  his 
own  family  upon  the  ancient  dynasties  of 
Europe,  with  whom  he  had  been  so  long  at 
war,  and  the  ruin  of  most  of  whom  had 
contributed  to  his  elevation.  The  Elector 
of  Bavaria  haa  to  repay  the  patronage  which 
raised  him  to  the  rank  of  king,  and  enlarged 
his  territories  with  the  fine  country  of  the 
Tyrol,  by  forming  an  alliance  which  should 
mix  his  ancient  blood  with  that  of  the  fam- 
ily connexions  of  the  fortunate  soldier. 
Eugene  Beauharnois,  Viceroy  of  Italy,  the 
son  of  Josephine  by  her  first  husband,  and 
now  the  adopted  son  of  N^ooleon,  waa 
wedded  to  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  King 
of  Bavaria.  Eugene  was  deservedly  fa- 
voured by  his  father-in-law,  Napoleon.  He 
was  a  man  of  talents,  probity,  anl  honour, 
and  displayed  great  military  skill,  particu- 


*  It  is  said,  that  being  asked  by  a  lad;  bow  sha 
could  submit  to  such  an  exposure  of  hei  person, 
she  conceived  that  the  question  only  related  to 
physical  inconvenience,  and  answered  il  by  as- 
suring her  friend  that  the  apartment  was  properly 
aired 


423 


LIFE  OF  JS-APOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LI. 


larly  during  the  Russian  campaign  of  1812. 
Stephanie  Beauharnois,  the  niece  of  Jose- 
phine, was  married  about  the  same  time  to 
the  Hereditary  Prince  of  Baden,  son  to  the 
reigning  Duke,  the  neutrality  of  whose  ter- 
ritories had  been  violated  in  the  seizure  of 
the  Duke  d'Enghien. 

These  various  kingdoms  and  principali- 
ties, erected  in  favour  of  his  nearest  rela- 
tions, imposed  on  the  mind  a  most  impres- 
sive image  of  Buonaparte's  unlimited  au- 
thority, who  distributed  crowns  among  his 
kinsfolks  as  ordinary  men  give  vails  to  their 
domestics.  But  the  sound  policy  of  his 
conduct  may  be  greatly  doubted.  We  have 
elsewhere  stated  the  obvious  objections  to 
the  transference  of  cities  and  kingdoms 
from  hand  to  hand,  with  as  little  ceremony 
as  the  circulation  of  a  commercial  bill  pay- 
able to  the  holder.  Authority  is  a  plant  of 
a  slow  growth,  and  to  obtain  the  full  ven- 
eration which  renders  it  most  effectual, 
must  have  risen  by  degrees  in  the  place 
which  it  overshadows  and  protects.  Sud- 
denly transferred  to  new  regions,  it  is  apt  to 
pine  and  to  perish.  The  theoretical  evils 
of  a  long-established  government  are  gen- 
erally mitigated  by  some  practical  remedy, 
or  those  who  suffer  by  them  have  grown 
callous  from  habit.  The  reverse  is  the 
case  with  a  newly-established  domination, 
which  has  no  claim  to  the  veneration  due 
to  antiquity,  and  to  which  the  subjects  are 
not  attached  by  the  strong  though  invisible 
chains  of  long  habit. 

Fox,  in  his  own  nervous  language,  has 
left  his  protest  against  the  principle  adopt- 
ed at  this  time  in  Europe,  of  transferring 
Uie  subjects  of  one  prince  to  another  by 
way  of  equivalents,  and  under  the  pretext 
of  general  arrangement.  "  The  wildest 
.schemes."  he  remarked,  "  that  were  ever 
before  broached,  would  not  go  so  far  to 
shake  the  foundations  of  all  established 
government,  as  this  new  practice.  There 
must  be  in  every  nation  a  certain  attach- 
ment of  the  people  to  its  form  of  govern- 
ment, without  which  no  government  could 
exist.  The  system,  then,  of  transferring 
the  subjects  of  one  prince  to  another, 
strikes  at  the  foundation  of  every  govern- 
ment, and  the  existence  of  every  nation." 

These  observations  apply  generally  to 
violent  alterations  upon  the  European  sys- 
tem ;  but  other  and  more  special  objections 
arise  to  Buonaparte's  system  of  erecting 
thrones  in  Holland,  in  Naples,  and  all 
through  Europe,  for  the  members  of  his 
own  family.  It  was  particularly  impolitic, 
as  marking  too  strongly  his  determination  to 
be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than  the  do- 
minion of  the  world  ;  for  while  he  governed 
France  in  his  own  person,  the  disposing  of 
other  countries  to  his  brothers  and  near 
relations,  feudatories  of  France,  and  his  de- 
pendants as  well  by  blood  as  by  allegiance, 
what  else  could  be  expected  than  that  the 
independence  of  such  kingdoms  must  be 
merely  nominal,  and  their  monarchs  bound 
to  act  in  every  respect  at  the  agents  of 
Buonaparte's  pleasure  ?  This,  indeed,  was 
their  most  sacred  duty,  according  to  his 
own  view  of  the  matter,  and  he  dilated  upon 


it  to  Las  Cases  while  at  St.  Helena.  The 
following  passage  contains  an  express  avow- 
al of  the  principles  on  which  he  desired  and 
expected  his  brothers  to  regulate  the  gov- 
ernments intrusted  to  them  : — 

"  At  another  time  the  Emperor  recurred  to 
the  subject  of  his  relations,  the  little  aid  he 
had  received  from  them,  the  embarrassment 
and  mischief  which  they  had  caused  him.  He 
dwelt  especially  on  that  false  idea  upon  their 
part,  that  when  once  placed  at  the  head  of 
a  state,  they  ought  to  identify  themselves 
with  it  to  such  an  extent,  as  to  prefer  its 
interests  to  those  of  the  common  country. 
He  agreed,  that  the  source  of  this  sentiment 
might  be  in  some  degree  honourable,  but 
contended  that  they  made  a  false  and  hurt- 
ful application  of  it,  when,  in  their  whims 
of  absolute  independence,  they  considered 
themselves  as  in  an  isolated  posture,  not 
observing  that  they  made  only  parts  of  a 
great  system,  the  movements  of  which 
it  was  their  business  to  aid,  and  not  to 
thwart."* 

This  is  explaining  in  few  words  the 
principle  on  which  Napoleon  established 
these  subsidiary  monarchies,  which  was  noi 
for  the  benefit  of  the  people  of  whom  they 
were  respectively  composed,  but  for  the 
service  of  France,  or  more  properly  of  him- 
self, the  sole  moving  principle  by  which 
France  was  governed.  In  devolving  the 
crown  of  Holland  on  the  son  of  Louis,  after 
the  abdication  of  Louis,  he  repeats  the  same 
principle  as  a  fundamental  condition  of  its 
tenure.  "  Never  forget,"  he  said,  "  that  in 
the  situation  to  which  my  political  system 
and  the  interest  of  my  empire  have  called 
you,  your  first  duty  is  towards  me,  your 
second  towards  France.  All  your  other 
duties,  even  those  towards  the  people  whom 
I  have  called  you  to  govern,  rank  after 
these." 

When  Napoleon  censures  his  delegate 
princes  for  preferring  the  interest  of  the 
kingdoms  which  he  had  assigned  them,  in- 
stead of  sacrificing  it  to  him  and  his  gov- 
ernment, he  degrades  them  into  mere  pup- 
pets, which  might  indeed  bear  regal  titles 
and  regal  attendance,  but,  entirely  depend- 
ent on  the  will  of  another,  had  no  choice 
save  to  second  the  views  of  an  ambition, 
the  most  insatiable  certainly  that  ever 
reigned  in  a  human  breast. 

This  secret  did  not  remain  concealed 
from  the  Dutch,  from  the  Neapolitans,  or 
other  foreigners,  subjected  to  these  pageant 
monarchs ;  and  as  it  naturally  incensed 
them  against  Napoleon' s  government,  so  it 
prevented  the  authority  which  he  had  del- 
egated from  obtaining  either  affection  or 
reverence,  and  disposed  the  nation  who 
were  subjected  to  it  to  take  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  casting  the  yoke  aside. 

The  erection  of  these  kindred  monarch- 
ies was  not  the  only  mode  by  which  Napole- 
on endeavoured  to  maintain  an  ascendencT 
in  the  countries  which  he  had  conquered, 
and  which  he  desired  to  retain  in  depend' 
ence  upon  France,  though  not  nominally 
or  directly  making  parts  of  the  French  em- 


*  Las  Cases,  tomo  I V.  Portie  7tieme,  p.  71 . 


Chap.  LI.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOX  BUO^^\PARTE. 


429 


pire.  Buonaparte  had  already  proposed  to 
his  council  the  question,  whether  the  cre- 
ation of  Grandees  of  the  Empire,  a  species 
of  nobility  whose  titles  were  to  depend,  not 
on  their  descent,  but  on  their  talents  and 
services  to  the  state,  was  to  be  considered 
asaviolationofthelaws  of  liberty  and  equal- 
ity. He  was  universally  answered  in  the 
negative  ;  for.  having  now  acquired  a  hered- 
itary monarch,  it  seemed  a  natural,  if  not 
an  indispensable  consequence,  that  France 
should  have  peers  of  the  realm. and  great  oifi- 
cers  of  the  crown.  Such  an  establishment,  ac- 
cording to  Buonaparte's  view,  would  at  once 
place  his  dignity  on  the  same  footing  with 
those  of  the  other  courts  of  Europej  (an  as- 
Bimilation  to  which  he  attached  a  greater 
degree  of  consequence  than  was  consistent 
with  policy,)  and  by  blending  the  new  no- 
bles of  the  Empire  with  those  of  the  ancient 
kingly  government,  would  tend  to  reconcile 
the  modern  state  of  things  with  such  relics 
of  the  old  court  as  yet  existed. 

From  respect,  perhaps,  to  the  republican 
opinions  which  had  so  long  predominated, 
the  titles  and  a[>pendages  of  these  grand 
feudatories  were  not  chosen  within  the 
Ujunds  of  France  herself,  but  from  provin- 
ces which  had  experienced  the  sword  of 
tlie  ruler.  Fifteen  dukedoms,  grand  fiefs, 
not  of  Fr.ance,  but  of  the  French  empire, 
which  extended  far  beyond  France  itself, 
were  created  by  the  fiat  of  the  Emperor. 
The  income  attached  to  each  amounted  to 
the  fifteenth  part  of  the  revenue  of  the  pro- 
vince, wliich  gave  title  to  ilie  dignitary. 
The  Emperor  invested  with  these  cndov,'- 
ments  those  who  had  best  served  him  in 
war  and  in  state  affairs.  Princedoms  also 
were  erected,  and  while  mareschals  and 
ministers  were  created  Dukes,  the  superior 
rank  of  Prince  was  bestowed  on  Talleyrand, 
Bemadotte,  and  Berthier,  by  the  titles  of 
Beneventum.  i^onte-Corvo.  and  Neufchatel. 

The  transformation  of  Republican  gen- 
erals and  ancient  Jacobins  into  the  peerage 
of  a  monarchical  government,  gave  a  spe- 
cies of  incongruity  to  this  splendid  mas- 
querade, and  more  than  one  of  the  person- 
ages showed  not  a  little  awkwardness  in  sup- 
porting their  new  titles.  It  is  true,  the 
nigh  degree  of  talent  annexed  to  some  of 
the  individuals  thus  promoted,  the  dread 
inspired  by  others,  and  the  fame  in  war 
which  many  had  acquired,  might  bear  them 
out  against  the  ridicule  which  was  unspar- 
ingly heaped  upon  them  in  the  saloons 
frequented  by  the  ancient  noblesse  ;  but, 
whatever  claims  these  dignitaries  had  to  i 
the  respect  of  the  public,  had  been  long 
theirs,  and  received  no  accession  from  their 
new  honours  and  titles. 

In  this,  and  on  similar  occasions.  Napo- 
leon overshot  his  aim,  and  diminished  to  a 
certain  extent  his  reputation,  by  seeming  to 
i«t  a  value  upon  honours,  titles,  and  cere- 
monies, which,  if  matters  of  importance  to 
other  courts,  were  certainly  not  such  as  he 
ought  to  have  rested  his  dignity  upon. 
Ceremonial  is  the  natural  element  of  a  long 
established  court,  and  etiquette  and  title 
are  the  idols  which  are  worshipped  there. 
But  Buonaparte  reigned  by  his  talents  and 


his  sword.  Like  Mezentius  in  the  .£neid, 
he  ought  to  have  acknowledged  no  other 
source  of  his  authority.*  It  was  imprudent 
to  appear  to  attach  consequence  to  points, 
which  even  his  otherwise  almost  boundless 
power  could  not  attain,  since  his  nobility 
and  his  court-ceremonial  must  still  retaia 
the  rawness  of  novelty,  and  could  no  more 
possess  that  value,  which,  whether  real  or 
imaginary,  has  been  generally  attached  to 
ancient  institutions  and  long  descent,  than 
the  Emperor  could,  by  a  decree  of  his  com- 
plaisant Senate,  have  given  his  modern 
coinage  the  value  which  antiquaries  attach 
to  ancient  medals.  It  was  imprudent  to 
decend  to  a  strife  in  which  he  must  neces- 
sarily be  overcome  ;  for  where  power  rests 
in  a  great  measure  on  public  opinion,  it  ia 
diminished  in  proportion  to  its  failure  in 
objects  aimed  at,  whether  of  greater  or  less 
consequence.  This  half-feudal  half-oriental 
establishment  of  grand  feudatories,  with 
which  Buonaparte  now  began  to  decorate 
the  structure  of  his  power,  may  be  compar- 
ed to  the  heavy  Gothic  devices  with  which 
modern  architects  sometimes  overlay  the 
front  of  their  buildings,  where  they  always 
encumber  what  they  cannot  ornament,  and 
sometimes  overload  what  they  are  designed 
to  support. 

The  system  of  the  new  Noblesse  was  set- 
tled by  an  Imperial  edict  of  Napoleon  him- 
self, which  was  communicated  to  the  Senate 
.Wtli  March  1806,  not  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
liberation or  acceptance,  but  merely  that, 
like  the  old  Parliament  of  Paris,  they  might 
enter  it  upon  their  register. 

The  court  of  Buonaparte  now  assumed  a 
character  of  the  strictest  etiquette,  in  which 
these  important  trifles,  called  by  a  writer  on 
the  subject  the  "  Superstitions  of  Gentle- 
men Ushers,''  were  treated  as  matters  of 
serious  import,  and  sometimes  occupied  the 
thoughts  of  Napoleon  himself,  and  supplied 
the  place  of  meditated  conquests,  and  the 
future  destruction  or  erection  of  kingdoms. 

The  possessors  of  ancient  titles,  tempted 
by  revival  of  the  respect  paid  to  birth  and 
rank,  did  not  fail  to  mingle  with  those 
wliose  nobility  rested  on  the  new  creation. 
The  Emperor  distinguished  these  ancient 
minions  of  royalty  with  considerable  favour, 
as,  half-blushing  for  their  own  apostacy  in 
doing  homage  to  Buonaparte  in  the  palace 
of  the  Bourbons,  half-sneering  at  the  mal- 
adroit and  awkward  manners  of  their  new 
associates,  they  mingled  among  the  men  of 
new  descent,  and  paid  homage  to  the  mon- 
arch of  the  day,  "  because,"  as  one  of  them 
expressed  himself  to  Madame  de  Stael, 
"  one  must  serve  some  one  or  other."  Buo- 
naparte encourajed  these  nobles  of  the  an- 
cient antichambers,  whose  superior  man- 
ners seemed  to  introduce  among  his  cour- 
tiers some  traits  of  the  former  court,  so  in- 
imitable for  grace  and  for  address,  and  also 
because  he  liked  to  rank  among  his  retaift- 
ers,  so  far  as  he  could,  the  inheritors  of 
those  Buperb  names  which  ornamented  tho 


•  Dextra  mihi  dous,  et  telum  quod  missile  libro 

Nude  adsint 

^neidof.  Lib.  X. 


430 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


iCkap.  LL 


history  of  France  in  former  ages.  But  then 
he  desired  to  make  them  exclusively  his 
own  ;  nothing  less  than  complete  and  un- 
compromising conversion  to  liis  government 
would  give  satisfaction.  A  baron  of  the  old 
noblesse,  who  had  become  a  counsellor  of 
state,  was  in  1810  summoned  to  attend  the 
Emperor  at  Fontainbleau. 

"  What  would  you  do,"  said  the  Emperor, 
''  should  you  learn  that  the  Compte  de 
Lille  was  this  instant  at  Paris  V 

"I  would  inform  against  him,  and  have 
him  arrested,"  said  the  candidate  for  fa- 
vour; "  the  law  commands  it." 

"  And  what  would  you  do  if  appointed  a 
judge  on  his  trial  V  demanded  the  Emperor 
again. 

•'  I  would  condemn  him  to  death,"  said 
the  unhesitating  nobis  ;  "  the  law  denoun- 
ces him." 

"  With  such  sentiments  you  deserve  a 
prefecture,"  said  the  Emperor  ;  and  the 
catechumen,  whose  respect  for  the  law  was 
Ui us  absolute,  was  made  Prefect  of  Paris. 

Such  converts  were  searched  for,  and, 
when  found,  were  honoured,  and  rewarded, 
and  trusted.  For  the  power  of  recompens- 
iiig  his  soldiers,  statesmen,  and  adherents, 
the  conquered  countries  were  again  the 
Emperor's  resource.  National  domains 
were  reserved  to  a  large  amount  throughout 
tliose  countries,  and  formed  funds,  out  of 
which  gratifications  and  annuities  were,  at 
Napoleon's  sole  pleasure,  assigned  to  the 
generals,  officers,  and  soldiers  of  the  French 
army  ;  who  might  in  this  way  be  said  to  have 
h!!  Europe  for  their  paymaster.  Thus  eve- 
ry conquest  increased  his  means  of  reward- 
ing his  soldiers  ;  and  that  army,  which  was 
the  most  formidable  instrument  of  his  ambi- 
tion, was  encouraged  and  maintained  at  the 
expense  of  those  states  which  had  suffered 
most  from  his  arms. 

We  have  not  yet  concluded  the  important 
changes  introduced  into  Europe  by  the  con- 
sequences of  the  fatal  campaign  of  Auster- 
litz.  The  Confederation  of  the  Rhine,  which 
withdrew  from  the  German  Empire  so  large 
a  portion  of  its  princes,  and,  transferring 
them  from  the  influence  of  Austria,  placed 
them  directly  and  avowedly  under  the  pro- 
tection of  France,  was  an  event  which  tend- 
ed directly  to  the  dissolution  of  the  Ger- 
manic League,  which  had  subsisted  since 
the  year  300,  when  Charlemagne  received 
the  Imperial  Crown  from  Pope  Leo  the 
T.hird. 

By  the  new  Federation  of  the  Rhine,  the 
courts  of  Wirtemberg  and  Bavaria,  of  Hes- 
se d'.\rnistadt,  with  some  petty  princes  of 
the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  formed  among 
lhftmselvi»s  an  alliance  offensive  and  defen- 
sive, and  renounced  their  dependence  upon 
the  Germanic  Body,  of  which  they  declared 
Uiey  no  longer  recognised  the  con.stitution. 
The  reasons  assigned  for  this  league  had 
considerable  weight.  It  was  urged  that  the 
countries  governed  by  these  princes  were. 
in  every  case  of  war  betwixt  France  and 
Austria,  exposed  to  all  the  evils  of  invasion, 
from  which  the  Germanic  Body  had  no  lon- 
ger power  to  defend  them.  Therefore,  be- 
ing obliged  to  seek  fur  more  effectual  pro- , 


tection  from  so  great  an  evil,  they  placed 
themselves  directly  under  the  guardianship 
of  France.  Napoleon,  on  his  part,  did  not 
hesitate  to  accept  the  title  of  Protector  of 
the  Confederation  of  the  Rhine.  It  is  true, 
that  he  had  engaged  to  his  subjects  that  he 
would  not  extend  the  limits  ol  his  empire 
beyond  that  river,  which  he  acknowledged 
as  the  natural  boundary  of  France  ;  but  this 
engagement  was  not  held  to  exclude  the 
sort  of  seigniorie  attached  to  the  new  Pro- 
tectorate, in  virtue  of  which  he  plunged  the 
German  States  who  composed  the  Confede- 
racy into  every  war  in  which  France  herself 
engaged,  and  at  pleasure  carried  their  ar- 
mies against  other  German  States,  their 
brethren  in  language  and  manners,  or  trans- 
ferred tlicm  to  more  distant  climates,  to 
wage  wars  in  which  they  had  no  interest, 
and  to  wliich  they  had  received  no  provo- 
cation. It  was  also  a  natural  consequence, 
that  a  number  of  inferior  members  of  the 
empire,  who  had  small  tenures  under  the 
old  constitutions,  having  no  means  of  de- 
fence excepting  their  ancient  rights,  were 
abolished  in  their  capacity  of  imperial  feud- 
atories, and  reduced  from  petty  sovereigns 
to  the  condition  of  private  nobles.  This, 
though  certainly  unjust  in  the  abstract  prin- 
ciple, was  not  in  practice  an  inconvenient 
result  of  the  great  change  introduced. 

The  military  contingents,  which  the  Con- 
federation placed,  not  perhaps  in  words,  but 
certainly  in  fact,  at  the  disposal  of  their  Pro- 
tector, not  less  than  sixty  thousand  men, 
were  of  a  character  and  in  a  state  of  milita- 
ry organization  very  superior  to  those  which 
they  had  formerly  furnished  to  the  Ger- 
manic Body.  These  last,  much  fewer  in 
number,  were  seldom  in  a  complete  state  of 
equipment,  and  were  generally  very  inferi- 
or in  discipline.  But  Napoleon  not  only 
exacted  that  the  contingents  furnished  un- 
der this  new  federation  should  be  complete 
in  numbers,  and  perfect  in  discipline  and 
appointments,  but,  imparting  to  them,  and 
to  their  officers,  a  spark  of  his  own  military 
ardour,  he  inspired  them  with  a  spirit  of 
bravery  and  confidence  which  they  had  been 
far  from  exhibiting  when  in  the  opposite 
ranks.  No  troops  in  his  army  behaved  bet- 
ter than  those  of  the  Confederacy  of  the 
Rhine.  But  the  strength  which  the  system 
afforded  to  Napoleon  was  only  temporary, 
and  depended  on  the  continuance  of  the 
power  by  which  it  was  created.  It  w,as  too 
arbitrary,  too  artificial,  and  too  much  oppos- 
ed both  to  the  interests  and  national  preju- 
dices of  the  Germans,  not  to  bear  within  it 
the  seeds  of  dissolution.  When  tlie  tide  of 
fortune  turned  against  Buonaparte  after  the 
battle  of  Leipsic,  Bavaria  hastened  to  join 
the  allies  for  the  purpose  of  completing  his 
destruction,  and  the  example  was  followed 
by  all  the  other  Princes  of  the  Rhine.  It 
fared  with  Napoleon  and  the  German  Con- 
federation, as  with  a  necromancer  .and  the 
demon  whom  for  a  certain  term  he  haJ 
bound  to  his  service,  and  who  obeys  hi.ii 
with  fidelity  during  the  currency  of  the  ob- 
ligation ;  but,  when  that  is  expired,  is  tho 
first  to  tear  his  employer  to  pieces. 
Francis  of  Austria,  seeing  the  empire,  of 


Chap.  LIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


431 


which  his  house  had  been  so  long  the  head, 
going  to  pieces  like  a  parting  wreck,  had  no 
other  resource  than  to  lay  aside  the  Impe- 
rial Crown  of  Germany,  and  to  declare  that 
league  dissolved  which  he  now  saw  no  suffi- 
cient means  of  enforcing.  He  declared  the 
ties  dissevered  which  bound  the  various 
princes  to  him  as  Emperor,  to  each  other 
as  allies  ;  and  although  he  reserved  the  Im- 
perial title,  it  was  only  as  the  Sovereign  of 
Austria,  and  his  other  hereditary  states. 

France  became  therefore  in  a  great  meas- 
ure the  successor  to  the  influence  and  dig- 
nity of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  as  that  of 
Germany  had  been  proudly  styled  for  a 
thousand  years  ;  and  the  Empire  of  Napo- 
leon gained  a  still  nearer  resemblance  to 
that  of  Charlemagne.  At  least  France  suc- 
ceeded to  the  Imperial  influence  exercised 
by  Austria  and  her  empire  over  all  the 
Bouth-western  provinces  of  that  powerful 
district  of  Europe.  In  the  eastern  districts, 
Austria,  stunned  by  her  misfortunes  and  her 


defeats,  was  passive  and  unresisting.  Prus- 
sia, in  the  north  of  Germany,  was  halting 
between  two  very  opposite  sets  of  counsel- 
lors ;  one  of  which,  with  too  much  confi- 
dence in  the  military  resources  of  the  coun- 
try, advised  war  with  France,  for  which  the 
favourable  opportunity  had  been  permitted 
to  escape  ;  while  the  other  recommended, 
that,  like  the  iackall  in  the  train  of  the  lion, 
Prussia  should  continue  to  avail  herself  of 
the  spoils  which  Napoleon  might  permit 
her  to  seize  upon,  without  presuming  to 
place  herself  in  opposition  to  his  will,  In 
either  case,  the  course  recommended  was 
sufficiently  perilous  ;  but  to  vacillate,  as 
the  cabinet  of  Berlin  did,  betwixt  the  one 
and  tlie  other,  inferred  almost  certain  ruin. 
While  Napoleon  thus  revelled  in  aug- 
mented strength,  and  increased  honours. 
Providence  put  it  once  more,  and  for  the 
last  time,  in  his  power,  to  consolidate  his 
immense  empire  by  a  general  peace,  mari- 
time as  well  as  upon  the  Continent. 


CHAP.  ZiXZ. 

Death  of  Pitt — He  is  succeeded  by  Fox  as  Prime  Minister. — Circumstances  which  led 
to  Negotiation  with  France. —  I'he  Earl  of  Lauderdale  is  sent  to  Paris  as  the  British 
Negotiator. — Negotiation  is  broken  off  in  consequence  of  the  Refusal  of  England  to 
cede  Sicily  to  France,  and  Lord  Lauderdale  leaves  Paris. — Reasonings  on  the  Stabil- 
ity of  Peace,  had  Peace  been  obtained. — Prussia — her  Temporizing  Policy — She 
takes  alarm — An  attempt  made  by  her  to  form  a.  Confederacy  in  opposition  to  that  of 
the  Rhine,  is  defeated  by  the  Machinations  of  Napoleon. — Strong  and  general  dispo- 
sition of  the  Prussians  to  War. — Legal  Murder  of  Palm,  a  bookseller,  by  authority  of 
Buonaparte,  aggravates  this  feeling. —  The  Emperor  Alexander  again  visits  Berlin. 
— Prussia  begins  to  arm  in  August  ISOG,  a7id,  after  some  Negotiation,  takes  the  Field 
in  October,  under  the  Duke  of  Brunsirick. — Impolicy  of  the  Plans  of  the  Campaign. 
— Details. — Action  fought,  and  lost  by  the  Prussians,  at  Saalfcld — Followed  by  th* 
decisive  Defeat  of  Auerstadt.  or  Jena,  on  the  \3th  October. — Particulars  of  the  Battle. 
— Duke  of  Brunswick  mortally  wounded. — Consequences  of  this  total  Defeat— All  the 
strong  places  tn  Prussia  given  up  without  resistance. — Buonaparte  takes  possession  of 
Berlin  on  the  ~oth.— Explanation  of  the  different  Situations  of  Austria  and  Prussia 
after  their  several  Defeats. — Reflections  on  the  Fall  of  Prussia. 


The  death  of  William  Pitt  was  accelerated 
by  the  campaign  of  Ulm  and  Austerlitz,  as 
his  health  had  been  previously  injured  by 
the  defeat  of  Marengo.  Great  as  he  was  as 
a  statesman,  ardent  in  patriotism,  and  com- 
prehensive in  his  political  views,  it  had 
been  too  much  the  habit  of  that  great  min- 
ister, to  trust,  for  some  rc-cstablishment  of 
the  balance  of  power  on  the  Continent,  tn 
the  exertions  of  the  ancient  European  fjov- 
ernments,  whose  efforts  had  gradually  be- 
come fainter  and  fainter,  and  their  spirits 
more  and  more  depressed,  when  opposed  to 
the  power  of  Buonaparte,  whose  blows, 
like  the  thunderbolt,  seemed  to  inflict  in- 
evitable ruin  wherever  they  burst.  But, 
while  resting  too  much  hope  on  coalitions, 
placing  too  murh  confidence  in  foreign  ar- 
mies, and  too  little  considering,  perhaps, 
what  might  have  been  achieved  by  our  own, 
had  sufficient  numbers  been  employed  on 
adequate  objects,  Pitt  maintained  with  un- 
abated zeal  the  great  principle  of  resistance 
to  France,  unless  France  should  be  dispos- 
ed to  show,  that,  satisfied  with  the  immense 
power  which  she  possessed,  her  Emperor 
was  willing  to  leave  the  rest  of  Europe  such 


precarious  independence,  as  his  victorious 
arms  had  not  yet  bereft  them  of. 

The  British  ()rime  minister  was  succeed- 
ed, upon  his  death,  by  the  statesman  to 
whom,  in  life,  he  had  waged  the  most  uni- 
form opposition.  Charles  Fox,  now  at  the 
head  of  the  British  government,  had  uni- 
formly professed  to  believe  it  possible  to 
effect  a  solid  and  lasti.ng  peace  with  France, 
and,  in  the  ardour  of  debate,  had  repeatedlr 
thrown  on  his  great  adversary  the  blame 
that  such  had  not  been  accomplished. 
W'hen  he  himself  became  possessed  of 
the  supreme  power  of  administration,  he 
v.'as  naturally  disposed  to  realize  his  pre- 
dictions, if  Napoleon  should  be  found  dis- 
posed tn  admit  a  treaty  upon  anything  like 
equal  terras.  In  a  visit  to  Paris  during  the 
peace  of  Amiens,  Mr.  Fox  had  been  receiv- 
ed with  great  distinction  by  Napoleon. 
The  private  relations  betwixt  them  were 
therefore  of  an  amicable  nature,  and  g.ave 
an  opening  for  friendly  intercourse. 

The  time,  too,  appeared  favourable  for 
negotiation  ;  for  whatever  advantages  had 
been  derived  by  France  from  her  late  tri- 
umphant campaign  on  tbo  Continent,  were, 


432 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.Ln. 


BO  far  as  Britain  was  concerned,  neutralized 
and  out-balanced  by  the  destruction  of  the 
combined  fleets.  All  possibility  of  invasion 
which  appears  before  this  event  to  have 
■warmly  engrossed  the  imagination  of  Napo- 
leon, seemed  at  an  end  for  ever.  The  de- 
lusion which  represented  a  united  navy  of 
fifty  sail  of  the  line  triumphantly  occupying 
the  British  Channel,  and  escorting  an  over- 
powering force  to  the  shores  of  England, 
was  dispelled  by  the  cannon  of  iilst  Octo- 
ber. The  gay  dreams,  which  painted  a  vic- 
torious army  marching  to  London,  reform- 
ing the  state  of  England  by  the  destruction 
of  her  aristocracy,  and  reducing  her  to  her 
natural  condition,  as  Napoleon  termed  it, 
of  such  a  dependency  on  France  as  the  isl- 
and of  Oleron  or  of  Corsica,  were  gone. 
After  the  Battle  of  Trafalgar,  all  hopes 
were  extinguished  that  the  fair  provinces 
of  England  could  in  any  possible  event  have 
been  cut  u-p  into  new  fiefs  of  the  French 
empire.  It  was  no  longer  to  be  dreamed, 
that  Delations,  as  they  were  termed,  might 
be  formed  upon  the  Royal  Exchange  for 
the  payment  of  annuities  by  hundreds  of 
tiiousands,  and  by  millions,  for  rewarding 
the  soldiers  of  the  Great  Nation.  To  work 
purses  for  the  French  officers,  that  they 
might  be  filled  with  British  gold,  had  of  late 
been  a  favourite  amusement  among  the  fair 
ladies  of  France  ;  but  it  was  now  evident 
that  they  had  laboured  in  vain.  All  these 
hopes  and  projects  were  swallowed  up  in 
the  billows  which  entombed  the  wrecks  of 
Trjifalgar. 

In  a  word,  if  Austria  had  fallen  in  the 
contest  of  1805,  Britain  stood  more  pre-em- 
inent than  ever;  and  it  might  have  been 
rati/inally  expected,  that  the  desire  of  war 
on  the  part  of  Napoleon  should  have  ended, 
when  every  prospect  of  bringing  that  war 
to  the  conclusive  and  triumphant  termina- 
tion which  he  meditated,  had  totally  disap- 
peared. The  views  of  the  British  cabinet, 
also,  we  have  said,  were  now  amicable, 
and  an  incident  occurred  for  opening  a  ne- 
gotiation, under  circumstances  which  seem- 
ed to  warrant  the  good  faith  of  the  English 
ministers. 

A  person  pretending  to  be  an  adherent 
of  the  Bourbons,  but  afterwards  pretty  well 
understood  to  be  an  agent  of  the  French 
government,  acting  upon  the  paltry  system 
of  espionage  which  had  infected  both  their 
internal  and  exterior  relations,  obtained  an 
audience  of  Mr.  Fox,  for  the  purpose,  as  he 
pretended,  of  communicating  to  the  Britisli 
minister  a  proposal  for  the  assassination  of 
Buonaparte.  It  had  happened,  that  Mr. 
Fox,  in  conversation  with  Napoleon,  while 
at  Paris,  had  indignantly  repelled  a  charge 
of  this  kind,  which  the  latter  brought  ag.iinst 
some  of  the  English  ministry.  "Clear 
your  head  of  that  nonsense,"  was  said  to 
be  his  answer,  with  more  of  English  blunt- 
ness  than  of  French  politeness.  Perhaps 
Buonaparte  was  desirous  of  knowing  wheth- 
er his  practice  would  keep  pace  with  his 
principles,  and  on  this  principle  had  en- 
couraged the  spy.  Fox,  as  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, not  only  repelled  with  abhorrence 
the  idea  suggested  by  this   French  agent, 


!  but  caused  it  to  be  communicated  to  the 
French  Emperor;  and  this  gave  rise  to 
some  friendly  communication,  and  finally 
to  a  negotiation  for  peace.  Lord  Yarmouth, 
and  afterwards  Lord  Lauderdale,  acted  for 
the  British  government ;  Champagny  and 
General  Clarke  for  the  Emperor  of  France. 
Napoleon,  who,  like  most  foreigners,  had 
but  an  inaccurate  idea  of  the  internal  struc- 
ture of  the  British  constitution,  had  expect- 
ed to  find  a  French  party  in  the  bosom  of 
England,  and  was  surprised  to  find  that  a  few 
miscreants  of  the  lowest  rank,  whom  he  had 
been  able  to  bribe,  were  the  only  English 
who  were  accessible  to  foreign  influence  ; 
and  that  the  party  which  had  opposed  the 
war  with  France  in  all  its  stages,  were  nev- 
ertheless incapable  of  desiring  to  see  it 
cease  on  such  terms  as  were  dishonourable 
to  the  country. 

The  French  commissioners  made  sever- 
al concessions,  and  even  intimated,  in  ver- 
bal conference  with  Lord  Yarmouth,  that 
they  would  be  content  to  treat  upon  the 
principle  of  uti  possidetis  ;  that  is,  of  allow- 
ing each  party  to  retain  such  advantages  aa 
she  had  been  able  to  gain  by  her  arms  dur- 
ing the  war.  But  when  the  treaty  was  far- 
ther advanced,  the  French  negotiators  re- 
sisted this  rule,  and  showed  themselves  dis- 
posed to  deny  that  they  had  ever  assented 
to  it. 

They  were  indeed  willing  to  resign  a 
long-contested  point,  and  consented  that 
the  island  of  Malta,  with  the  Cape  of  Good- 
Hope,  and  other  possessions  in  the  East  and 
West  Indies,  should  remain  under  the  do- 
minion of  Great  Britian.  But  then  they  ex- 
acted the  surrender  of  Sicily  and  Naples, 
proposing  that  Frederick  IV.  should  be  in- 
demnified at  the  expense  of  Spain  by  the 
cession  of  the  Balearic  Isles.  Britain  could 
not  implicitly  consent  to  this  last  proposi- 
tion, either  in  policy,  or  in  justice  to  her 
unfortunate  ally.  Naples  was  indeed  occu- 
pied by  the  French,  and  had  received  Jo- 
seph Buonaparte  as  her  King;  but  the  insu- 
lar situation  of  Sicily  rendered  it  easy  for 
Britain  to  protect  that  rich  Island,  which 
was  still  in  the  possession  of  its  legitimate 
monarch.  The  principle  of  uti  possidetis 
was  therefore  in  favour  of  the  English,  eo 
far  as  Sicily  was  concerned,  as  it  was  in 
tliat  of  the  French  in  the  case  of  Naples. 
The  English  envoy,  for  this  reason,  refused 
an  ultimatum,  in  which  the  cession  of  Sici- 
ly was  made  an  indispensable  article.  Lord 
Lauderdale,  at  the  same  time,  demanded 
!iis  passports,  which,  however,  he  did  not 
receive  for  several  days,  as  if  there  had 
been  some  hopes  of  renewing  the  treaty. 

Buonaparte  was  put  to  considerable  in- 
convenience by  the  shrewdness  and  tenacity 
of  the  noble  negotiator,  and  bad  not  forgot- 
ten them  when,  in  1815,  he  found  himself 
on  board  the  Beiierophon,  commanded  by  a 
relation  of  the  noble  Earl.  It  is  indeed 
probable,  that  had  Mr.  Fox  lived,  the  nego- 
tiation might  have  been  renewed.  That 
eminent  statesman,  then  in  his  last  illnesa^r 
was  desirous  to  accomplish  two  great  ob- 
jects— peace  with  France,  and  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  slave  trade.     But  although  Buo- 


Chap.  LII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


433 


naparte's  deference  for  Fox  might  have  in- 
duced him  to  concede  some  of  the  points 
in  dispute,  and  although  the  British  states- 
man's desire  of  peace  might  have  made  him 
relinquish  others  on  the  part  of  England, 
■till,  while  the  two  nations  retained  their 
relative  power  and  positions,  the  deep  jeal- 
ousy and  mutual  animosity  which  subsisted 
between  them  would  probably  have  render- 
ed any  peace  which  could  have  been  made 
a  mere  suspension  of  arms — a  hollow  and 
insincere  truce,  which  was  almost  certain 
to  give  way  on  the  slightest  occasion.  Brit- 
ain could  never  have  seen  with  indifference 
Buonaparte  making  one  stride  after  anoth- 
er towards  universal  dominion  ;  and  Buo- 
uaparte  could  not  long  have  borne  with  j.a- 
tience  the  neighbourhood  of  our  free  insti- 
tutions and  our  free  press  ;  the  former  of 
which  must  have  perpetually  reminded  the 
French  of  the  liberty  they  had  lost,  while 
the  latter  was  sure  to  make  the  Emperor, 
his  government,  and  his  policy,  the  daily 
subject  of  the  most  severe  and  unsparing 
criticism.  Even  the  war  with  Prussia  and 
Russia,  in  which  Napoleon  was  soon  after- 
wards engaged,  would  in  all  probability  have 
renewed  the  hostilities  between  France  and 
England,  supposing  them  to  have  been  ter- 
minated for  a  season  by  a  temporary  peace. 
Yet  Napoleon  always  spoke  of  the  death  of 
Fox  as  one  of  the  fatalities  on  which  his 
great  designs  were  shipwrecked;  which 
majces  it  the  more  surprising  that  he  did  not 
resume  intercourse  with  the  administration 
formed  under  his  auspices,  aud  who  might 
nave  been  supposed  to  be  animated  by  his 
principles  even  after  his  decease.  That  he 
did  not  do  so  may  be  fairly  received  in  evi- 
dence to  show,  that  peace,  unless  on  terms 
which  he  could  dictate,  was  not  desired  by 
him. 

As  the  conduct  of  Prussia  had  been  fickle 
and  versatile  during  the  campaign  of  Auster- 
lilz,  the  displeasure  of  Napoleon  was  excit- 
ed in  proportion  against  her.     She  had,  it  is 
1   true,  wrenched   from  liim  an  unwilling  ac- 
j    quiescence  in   her   views   upon   HanoVer. 
I    By  the  treaty  which  Haugwitz  had  signed  at 
I   Vienna,  after  the  battle  cfAustcrlitz,  it  was 
i   agreed   that    Prussia   should    receive    the 
Electoral  dominions  of  the   King  of  Eng- 
'  land,  his  ally,  instead  of  Anspach,  Bareuth, 
and  Neufchatel,  which  she  was  to  cede  to 
France.     The  far  superior  value  of  Hanover 
was  to  be  considered  as  a  boon  to  Prussia, 
in  guerdon  of  her  neutrality.     But  Napole- 
on did  not  forgive  the   hostile  disposition 
which  Prussia  had  manifested,  and  it  is  pro- 
bable he  waited  with  anxiety  for  tiie  oppor- 
tunity of  inflicting  upon  her  condign  chas- 
tisement.   He  continued  to  maintain  a  large 
army  in  Swabia  and  Franconia,  and.  by  in- 
troducing troops  into   Westphalia,  intimat- 
ed, not  obscurely,  an  approaching  rupture 
I  with  his  ally.     Meantime,  under  the  influ- 
I  ence  of  conflicting  councils,  Prussia  pro- 
.  i  ceededin  a  course  of  politics  which  rendcr- 
I  ed  her   odious   for  her  rapacity,  and  con- 
1  temptible  for  tlie  short-sighted  views  under 
'  which  she  indulged  it. 

It  was  no  matter  of  difncujty  for  the 
,  j  Prussian  forces  to  tvkc  pcsscssion  of  Hano- 
[|        Vol    I.  -p 


ver,  which,  when  evacuated  by  Bemadotte 
and  his  army,  lay  a  prey  to  the  first  invader, 
with  the  exception  of  the  fortress  of  Hame- 
len,  still  occupied  by  a  French  garrison. 
The  Electorate,  the  hereditary  dominions  of 
the  King  of  Great  Britain,  with  whom  Prus- 
sia was  at  profound  peace,  was  accordingly 
seized  upon,  and  her  cabinet  pretended  to 
justify  that  usurpation  by  alleging,  that  Han- 
over, having  been  transferred  to  France  by 
the  rights  of  war,  had  been  ceded  to  the 
Prussian  government  in  exchange  for  other 
districts.  At  the  same  time,  an  order  of 
the  Prussian  monarch  shut  his  ports  in  the 
Baltic  against  the  admission  of  British  ves- 
sels. These  measures,  taken  together, 
were  looked  upon  by  England  as  intimating 
determined  and  avowed  hostility  ;  and  Fox 
described,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the 
conduct  of  Prussia,  as  a  compound  of  the 
most  hateful  rapacity  with  the  most  con- 
temptible servility.  War  was  accordingly 
declared  against  her  by  Great  Britain ;  and 
her  flag  being  banished  from  the  ocean  by 
the  English  cruisers,  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe 
and  the  Prussian  sea-ports  were  declared  in 
a  state  of  blockade,  and  her  trade  was  sub- 
jected to  a  corresponding  de'jree  of  distress. 

Meantime,  it  was  the  fate  of  Prussia  to 
find,  that  she  held  by  a  very  insecure  te- 
nure that  very  Electorate,  the  price  of  her 
neutrality  at  Austerlitz,  and  which  was  far- 
ther purchased  at  the  expense  of  war  with 
England.  Her  ministers,  while  pressing 
France  to  confirm  the  cession  of  Hanover, 
had  the  mortification  to  discover  that  Na- 
poleon, far  from  regarding  the  Prussian  right 
in  it  as  indefeasible,  was  in  fact  negotiating 
for  a  general  peace,  upon  the  condition, 
amongst  others,  that  the  Electorate  should 
be  restored  to  the  King  of  England,  its  he- 
reditary sovereign.  While  the  disclosure 
of  this  double  game  showed  Frederick  Wil- 
liam upon  what  insecure  footing  he  held  the 
premium  assigned  to  Prussia  by  the  treaty 
of  Vienna,  farth^  discovery  of  the  projecte 
of  France  seemed  to  impel  him  to  change 
the  pacific  line  of  his  policy. 

Hitherto  the  victories  of  Napoleon  had 
had  for  their  chief  consequences  the  de- 
pression of.\ustria  and  the  diminution  of 
that  power  which  was  the  natural  and  an- 
cient rival  of  the  House  of  Brandenburg. 
But  now,  when  Austria  was  thrust  back  to 
the  eastward,  and  deprived  of  her  influence 
in  the  south-west  of  Germany,  Prussia  saw 
with  just  alarm  that  France  was  assuming 
that  influence  herself,  and  that,  unless  op- 
posed, she  was  likely  to  become  as  power- 
ful in  the  north  of  Germany,  as  ene  had 
rendered  herself  in  the  south-western  cir- 
cles. .Above  all,  Prussia  was  alarmed  at 
the  Confederacy  of  the  Rhine,  an  associa- 
tion which  placed  under  the  direct  influ 
ence  of  France  so  large  a  proportion  of 
wiiat  had  been  lately  component  parts  of 
the  Germanic  Empire.  The  disaoluticn 
of  the  Germanic  Empire  itself  wat  an  event 
no  less  surprising  and  embarrassing ;  for, 
besides  all  the  other  important  points,  in 
which  the  position  of  Prussia  was  altered 
by  the  annihilation  of  that  ancient  confed- 
eracy, she  lost  thereby  the  pro.^pect  of  he» 


434 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUORNAPATE. 


[Chap.  LII. 


own  monarch  being,  upon  the  decline  of 
Austria,  chosen  to  wear  the  imperial  crown, 
as  tlie  iiiDst  powerful  member  of  the  federa- 
tion. 

One  way  remained,  to  balance  the  new 
species  of  power  which  France  had  ac- 
quired by  tliese  innovations  on  the  state  of 
Europe.  It  was  possible,  by  forming  the 
northern  princes  of  the  German  empire  into 
a  league  of  the  same  character  with  the 
Confederacy  of  the  Rhine,  having  Prussia 
instead  of  France  for  its  protector,  to  cre- 
ate such  an  equilibrium  as  might  render  it 
difficult  or  dangerous  for  Buonaparte  to 
use  his  means,  however  greatly  enlarged, 
to  disturb  the  peace  of  the  north  of  Europe. 
It  was,  therefore,  determined  in  the  Prus- 
sian cabinet  to  form  a  league  on  this  prin- 
ciple. 

This  proposed  Northern  Confederacy, 
however,  could  not  well  be  established 
without  communication  with  France  ;  and 
Buonaparte,  though  offering  no  direct  op- 
position to  the  formation  of  a  league,  sanc- 
tioned by  the  example  of  that  of  the  Rhine, 
started  such  obstacles  to  the  project  in  de- 
tail, as  were  likely  to  render  its  establish- 
ment on  an  effectual  footing  impossible.  It 
was  said  by  his  ministers,  that  Napoleon 
was  to  take  the  Hanseatic  towns  under  his 
own  immediate  protection  ;  that  the  wise 
prince  who  governed  Saxony  showed  no 
i^esire  to  become  a  member  of  the  proposed 
Confederacy  ;  and  that  France  would  per- 
mit no  power  to  be  forced  into  such  a  mea- 
sure. Finally,  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse 
Cassel,  who  was  naturally  reckoned  upon 
as  an  important  member  of  the  proposed 
Northern  League,  was  tampered  with  to 
prevail  upon  him  to  join  the  Confederacy 
of  the  Rhine,  instead  of  that  which  was 
proposed  to  be  formed  under  the  protector- 
ate of  Prussia.  This  prince,  afraid  to  de- 
cide which  of  these  powerful  nations  he 
should  adhere  to,  remained  in  a  state  of 
neutrality,  notwithstanding  the  offers  of 
France  ;  and,  by  doing  so,  incurred  the  dis- 
pleasure of  Napoleon,  from  which  in  the 
sequel  he  suffered  severely. 

By  this  partial  interruption  and  opposi- 
tion. Napoleon  rendered  it  impossible  for 
Prussia  to  make  any  effectual  eflbrts  for 
combining  together  those  remaining  frag- 
ments of  the  German  empire,  over  which 
her  military  power  and  geographical  posi- 
tion gave  her  natural  influence.  This  dis- 
appointment, with  the  iense  of  having  been 
outwitted  by  the  French  government,  ex- 
cited feelings  of  chagrin  and  resentment  in 
the  Prussian  cabinet,  which  corresponded 
with  the  sentiments  expressed  by  the  na- 
tion at  large.  In  the  former,  the  predomi- 
nant feeling  was,  despite  for  disappoint- 
ed hopes,  and  a  desire  of  revenge  on  the 
sovereign  and  state  by  whom  they  had  been 
orerreached :  in  the  latter,  there  prevailed 
a  keen  and  honourable  sense  that  Prussia 
had  lost  her  character  tlirough  the  truck- 
ling policy  of  her  administration 

Whatever  reluctance  the  cabinet  of  Ber- 
lin had  shown  to  enter  into  hostilities  wirh 
France,  the  court  and  country  never  ap- 
pear to  have  shared  that  sensation.     The 


former  was  under  the  influence  of  the 
young,  beautiful,  and  high-spirited  Queea, 
and  of  Louis  of  Prussia,  a  prince  who  felt 
with  impatience  the  decaying  importance 
of  that  kingdom,  which  the  victories  of  the 
Great  Frederick  had  raised  to  such  a  pitch 
of  glory.  These  were  surrounded  by  a  nu- 
merous band  of  noble  youths,  impatient  for 
war,  as  the  means  of  emulating  the  fame  of 
their  fathers  ;  but  ignorant  how  little  like- 
ly vvere  even  the  powerful  and  well-disci- 
plined forces  of  Frederick,  unless  directed 
by  his  genius,  to  succeed  in  opposition  to 
troops  not  inferior  to  themselves,  and  con- 
ducted by  a  leader  who  had  long  appeared 
to  chain  victory  to  his  chariot  wheels. 
The  sentiments  of  the  young  Prussian  no- 
blesse were  sufficiently  indicated,  by  their 
going  to  sharpen  their  sabres  on  the  thresh- 
old of  La  Foret,  the  ambassador  of  Na- 
poleon, and  the  wilder  frolic  of  breaking 
the  windows  of  the  ministers  supposed  to 
be  in  the  French  interest.  The  Queen 
appeared  frequently  in  the  uniform  of  the 
regiment  which  bore  her  name,  and  some- 
times rode  herself  at  their  head,  to  give  en- 
thusiasm to  the  soldiery.  This  was  soon 
excited  to  the  highest  pitch  ;  and  had  the 
military  talents  of  the  Prussian  generals 
borne  any  correspondence  to  the  gallantry 
of  the  officers  and  soldiers,  an  issue  to  the 
campaign  might  have  been  expected  far 
different  from  that  which  took  place.  The 
manner  in  which  the  characters  of  the 
Queen,  the  King,  and  Prince  Louis,  were 
treated  in  the  Moniteur,  tended  still  more 
to  exasperate  the  quarrel ;  for  Napoleon's 
studious  and  cautious  exclusion  from  the 
government  paper  of  such  political  arti- 
cles as  had  not  his  own  previous  approba- 
tion, rendered  him  in  reason  accountable 
for  all  which  appeared  there. 

The  people  of  Prussia  at  large  were 
clamorous  for  war.  They,  too,  were  sen- 
sible that  the  late  versatile  conduct  of  their 
cabinet  had  exposed  them  to  the  censure, 
and  even  the  scorn  of  Europe;  and  that 
Buonaparte  seeing  the  crisis  ended,  in 
which  the  firmness  of  Prussia  might  have 
preserved  the  balance  of  Europe,  retained 
no  longer  any  respect  for  those  whom  he 
had  made  his  dupes,  but  treated  with  total 
disregard  the  remonstrances,  which,  before 
the  advantages  obtained  at  Ulm  and  Aus- 
terlitz,  he  must  have  listened  to  with  re- 
spect and  deference. 

Another  circumstance  of  a  very  exasper- 
ating character  took  place  at  this  tin>e. 
One  Palm,  a  bookseller  at  Nuremberg,  had 
exposed  to  sale  a  pamphlet,  containing 
remarks  on  the  conduct  of  Napoleon,  in 
which  the  Emperor  and  his  policy  were 
treated  with  considerable  s&verity.  The 
bookseller  was  seized  upon  for  this  offence 
by  tne  French  gens  d'armes,  and  transfer- 
red to  Braunau,  where  he  was  brought 
before  a  miUlary  commission,  tried  for  a 
libel  on  the  Emperor  of  France,  found  guil- 
ty, and  shot  to  death  in  terms  of  his  sen- 
tence. The  murder  of  this  poor  man,  for 
such  it  literally  was,  whether  immediately 
flowing  from  Buonaparte's  mandate,  or  the 
effect  of  the  furious  zeal  of  soino  of  hi* 


Chap.  LIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


435 


officers,  excited  deep  and  general  indigna- 
tion. 

The  constitution  of  many  of  the  states 
in  Germany  is  despotic;  but,  nevertheless, 
the  number  of  independent  principalities, 
and  the  privileges  of  the  free  towns,  have 
always  insured  to  the  nation  at  large  the 
blessings  of  a  free  press,  which,  much  ad- 
dicted as  they  are  to  literature,  the  Ger- 
mans value  as  it  deserves.  The  cruel  ef- 
fort now  made  to  fetter  this  unshackled  ex- 
pression of  opinion,  was,  of  course,  most 
unfavourable  to  his  authority  by  whom 
it  had  been  commanded.  The  thousand 
presses  of  Germany  continued  on  every 
possible  opportunity  to  dwell  on  the  fate 
of  Palm  ;  and  at  the  distance  of  six  or  sev- 
en years  from  his  death,  it  might  be  reck- 
oned among  the  leading  causes  which  ul- 
timately determined  the  popular  opinion 
against'Napoleon.  It  had  not  less  effect  at 
the  time  when  the  crime  was  committed  ; 
and  the  eyes  of  all  Germany  were  turned 
upon  Prussia,  as  the  only  member  of  the 
late  Holy  Roman  League,  by  whom  the 
progress  of  the  public  enemy  of  the  lib- 
erties of  Europe  could  be  arrested  in  its 
course. 

Amidst  the  general  ferment  of  the  pub- 
lic mind,  Alexander  once  more  appeared  in 
person  at  the  court  of  Berlin,  and,  more 
successful  than  on  the  former  occasion, 
prevailed  on  the  King  of  Prussia  at  length 
to  unsheath  the  sword.  The  support  of 
the  powerful  hosts  of  Russia  was  promised  ; 
and.  defeated  by  the  fatal  field  of  Auster- 
litz  in  his  attempt  to  preserve  the  south- 
east of  Germany  from  French  influence, 
Alexander  now  stood  forth  to  assist  Prussia 
as  the  Champion  of  the  North.  An  at- 
tempt had  indeed  been  made  through  means 
of  D'Oubril,  a  Russian  envo}'  at  Paris,  to 
obtain  a  general  peace  for  Europe,  in  con- 
currence with  that  which  Lord  Lauder- 
dale was  endeavouring  to  negotiate  on  the 
part  of  Britain  ;  but  the  treaty  entirely  mis- 
carried. 

While  Prussia  thus  declared  herself  the 
enemy  of  France,  it  seemed  to  follow  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  she  should  become 
once  more  the  friend  of  Britain  ;  and,  in- 
deed, that  power  lost  no  time  in  manifesting 
an  amicable  disposition  on  her  part,  by 
recalling  the  order  which  blockaded  the 
Prussian  ports,  and  annihilated  her  com- 
merce. But  the  cabinet  of  Berlin  evinced, 
in  the  moment  when  about  to  commence 
hoetilites,  the  same  selfish  insincerity 
which  had  dictated  all  their  previous  con- 
duct. While  sufficiently  desirous  of  ob- 
taining British  money  to  maintain  the  ap- 
proaching war,  they  showed  great  reluc- 
tance to  part  with  Hanover,  an  acquisition 
made  in  a  manner  so  unworthv  ;  and  the 
Prussian  minister,  Lucchesini,  did  not  hes- 
itate to  tell  the  British  ambassador.  Lord 
Morpeth,  that  the  fate  of  the  Electorate 
would  depend  upon  the  event  of  arms. 

Little  good  could  be  augured  from  the 
interposition  of  a  power,  who,  pretending 
to  arm  in  behalf  of  the  rights  of  nations, 
refused  to  part  with  an  acquisition  which 
she  herselt  had  made,  contrary  to  all   the 


rules  of  justice  and  good  faith.  Still  less 
was  a  favourable  event  to  be  hoped  for, 
when  the  management  of  the  war  was  in- 
trusted to  the  same  incapable  or  faithless 
ministers,  who  had  allowed  every  oppor- 
tunity to  escape  of  asserting  the  rights  of 
Prussia,  when,  perhaps,  her  assuming  a  firm 
attitude  might  have  prevented  the  necessity 
of  war  altogether.  But  the  resolution 
which  had  been  delayed,  when  so  many  fa- 
vourable occasions  were  suffered  to  escape 
unemployed,  was  at  length  adopted  with  an 
imprudent  precipitation,  which  left  Prussia 
neither  time  to  adopt  the  wisest  warlike 
measures,  nor  to  look  out  for  those  states- 
men and  generals  by  whom  such  measures 
could  have  been  most  effectually  executed 
About  the  middle  of  August,  Prussia 
began  to  arm.  Perhaps  there  are  few  ex- 
amples of  a  war  declared  with  the  almost 
unaminous  consent  of  a  great  and  warlike 
people,  which  was  brought  to  an  earlier  and 
more  unhappy  termination.  On  the  1st  of 
October,  Knobelsdorff,  the  Prussian  envov. 
was  called  upon  by  Talleyrand  to  explain 
the  cause  of  the  martial  attitude  assumed  by 
his  state.  In  reply,  a  paper  was  delivered, 
containing  three  propositions,  or  rather 
demands.  First,  That  the  French  troops 
which  had  entered  the  German  territory, 
should  instantly  re-cross  the  Rhine.  Sec- 
ondly, That  France  should  desist  from  pre- 
senting obstacles  to  the  formation  of  a 
league  in  the  northern  part  of  Germany,  to 
comprehend  all  the  states,  without  excep- 
tion, which  had  not  been  included  in  the 
Confederation  of  the  Rhine.  Thirdly,  That 
negotiations  should  be  immediately  com- 
menced, for  the  purpose  of  detaching  the 
fortress  of  Wesel  from  the  French  empire, 
and  for  the  restitution  of  three  abbeys, 
which  Murat  had  chosen  to  seize  upon  as 
a  part  of  his  Duchy  of  Berg.  With  this 
manifesto  was  delivered  a  long  explanatrry 
letter,  containing  severe  remarks  on  the 
system  of  encroachment  which  France  had 
acted  upon.  Such  a  text  and  commentary, 
considering  their  peremptory  tone,  and  the 
pride  and  power  of  him  to  whom  they  were 
addressed  in  such  unqualified  terms,  must 
have  been  understood  to  amount  to  a  dec- 
laration of  war.  And  yet,  although  Prussia, 
in  common  with  all  Europe,  had  just  reason 
to  complain  of  the  encroachments  cf  France, 
and  her  rapid  strides  to  universal  empire, 
it  would  appear  that  the  two  first  articles 
in  the  King's  declaration,  were  snbjects 
i  rather  of  negotiation  than  grounds  of  an 
I  absolute  declaration  of  war,  and  that  the 
fortress  of  Wesel,  and  the  three  abbeys, 
were  scarce  of  importance  enough  to  plunge 
the  whole  empire  into  blood  for  the  sake 
of  them. 

Prussia,  indeed,  was  less  actually  ajgriev- 
ed  than  she  was  mortified  and  offended. 
She  saw  she  had  been  outwitted  by  Buona- 
parte in  the  ne^oti.ntion  of  Vienna;  that  he 
was  juggling  with  her  in  the  matter  of  Han- 
over ;  that  she  was  in  danger  of  beliolding 
Sa-iony  and  Hesse  -vithdrawn  from  her  pro- 
t'.ction.  to  be  placed  under  that  of  France  ; 
and  under  a  general  sense  of  these  injuries, 
tbouiih  rather  apprehended  than  really  su8> 


4r>G 


LIFE  OF  JXAPOLEON  BL'OxXAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIL 


tK.incd,  siic  hurried  to  the  field.  If  ncgotia- 
tioiig  could  liave  been  protracted  till  the 
advance  ol'the  Russian  armies,  it  might  have 
given  a  dilt'erent  Face  to  the  war  ;  but  in 
tlie  warlike  ardour  which  possessed  the 
Prussians,  they  were  desirous  to  secure 
the  advantages  which,  in  military  affairs, 
belong  to  tiie  assailants,  without  weighing 
tlie  circumstances  which,  in  their  situation, 
rendered  such  precipitation  fatal 

Besides,  such  advantages  were  not  easily 
to  be  obtained  over  Buonaparte,  who  was 
not  a  man  to  be  amused  by  words  when  the 
moment  of  action  arrived.  Four  days  before 
the  delivery  of  the  Prussian  note  to  his 
minister,  Buonaparte  had  left  Paris,  and  was 
personally  in  the  field  collecting  his  own  im- 
mense forces,  and  urging  the  contribution 
of  those  contingents  which  the  Confederate 
Princes  of  the  Rhine  were  bound  to  sup- 
ply. His  answer  to  the  hostile  note  of  the 
King  of  Prussia,  was  addressed,  not  to  that 
monarch,  but  to  his  own  soldiers.  •'  They 
have  dared  to  demand,"  he  said,  "  that  we 
sjiould  retreat  at  the  first  sight  of  their 
army.  Fools  !  could  they  not  rellect  how 
impossible  they  found  it  to  destroy  Paris, 
a  task  incomparably  more  easy  than  to  tar- 
nish the  honour  of  the  Great  Nation.  Let 
the  Prussian  army  expect  tlie  same  fate 
which  they  encountered  fourteen  years  ago, 
since  experience  has  not  taught  them,  that 
wliile  it  is  easy  to  acquire  additional  do- 
minions and  increase  of  power,  by  the 
friendship  of  France,  her  enmity,  on  the 
contrary,  which  will  only  be  provoked  by 
those  who  are  totally  destitute  of  sense 
and  reason,  is  more  terrible  than  the  tem- 
pests of  the  ocean." 

The  King  of  Prussia  had  again  placed  at 
the  head  of  his  armies  the  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick. In  his  youth,  this  general  had  gain- 
ed renown  under  his  uncle  Prince  Ferdi- 
nand. But  it  had  been  lost  in  the  retreat 
from  Champagne  in  1792,  where  he  had  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  out-manoeuvred  by 
Dumouriez  and  his  army  of  conscripts.  He 
was  .seventy-two  years  old,  and  is  said  to 
have  added  the  obstinacy  of  ag',  to  others 
of  the  infirmities  which  naturally  attend  it. 
He  was  not  communicative,  nor  accessible 
to  any  of  the  other  generals,  excepting 
MoUendorf ;  and  this  generated  a  disun- 
ion of  councils  in  the  Prussian  camp,  and 
the  personal  dislike  of  the  army  to  him  by 
whom  it  was  commanded. 

The  plan  of  the  campaign,  formed  by 
this  ill-fated  Prince,  seems  to  have  been 
singularly  injudicious,  and  the  more  so,  as 
it  is  censurable  on  exactly  the  same  ground:; 
as  that  of  Austria  in  the  late  war.  Prussia 
could  not  expect  to  have  the  advantage  of 
numbers  in  tiie  contest.  It  was  theretore 
her  obvious  policy  to  procrastinate  and 
lengthen  out  negotiation,  until  she  could 
have  the  advantage  of  the  Russian  forces. 
Instead  of  this,  it  was  determined  to  rush 
forward  towards  Franconia,  and  oppose  the 
Prussian  army  alone  to  the  wiiole  force  of 
France,  commanded  by  their  renowned 
Emperor. 

The  motive  too,  was  similar  to  Ihat ! 
which  had  determined  Austria  to  advance 


I  as  far  as  the  banks  of  the  Iller.     Saxony 
,  was  in    the   present  campaign,  as  Bavaria 
in  the  former,  desirous  of  remaining  neu- 
ter ;  and  the  hasty  advance  of  the  Prussiaa 
j  armies  was  designed  to  compel  the  Elector 
I  Augustus  to  embrace  their  cause.     It  auc- 
I  ceeded  accordingly  ;  and  the  Sovereign  of 
'  Saxony   united    his    forces,   though    reluc- 
tantly, with  the  left  wing  of  the  Prussians, 
under  Prince  Hohenloe.     The  conduct  of 
the  Prussians  towards  the  Saxons,  bore  the 
same  ominous  resemblance  to  that  of  the 
Austrians  to  the   Bavarians.     Their  troops 
behaved  in  the  country  of  Saxony  more  as 
if  they  were  in  the  land  of  a  tributary  than 
an   ally,   and  while  the  assistance   of  the 
good  and  peaceable  Prince  was  sternly  ex- 
acted, no  efforts  were  made   to   conciliate 
his  good-will,  or   soothe  the  pride  of  his 
subjects.     In  their  behaviour  to  the  Saxons 
in  general,  the  Prussians  showed  too  much 
of  the  haughty   spirit  that  goes  before   a 
fall. 

The  united  force  of  the  Prussian  army, 
with  its  auxiliaries,  amounted  to  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  men,  confident  in 
their  own  courage,  in  the  rigid  discipline 
which  continued  to  distinguish  their  ser- 
vice, and  in  the  animating  recollections  of 
the  victorious  career  of  the  Great  Freder- 
ick. There  were  many  generals  and  sol- 
diers in  their  ranks  who  had  served  under 
him ;  bi}t,  amongst  that  troop  of  veterans, 
Blucher  alone  was  destined  to  do  distin- 
guished honour  to  the  school. 

Notwithstanding  these  practical  errors, 
the  address  of  the  Prussian  King  to  his  ar- 
my was  in  better  taste  than  the  vaunting 
proclamation  of  Buonaparte,  and  concluded 
with  a  passage,  which,  though  its  accom- 
plishment was  long  delayed,  nevertheless 
proved  at  last  prophetic  ; — "We  go,"  said 
Frederick  William,  "  to  encounter  an  ene- 
my, who  has  vanquished  numerous  armies, 
humiliated  monarchs,  destroyed  constitu- 
tions, and  deprived  more  than  one  state  of 
its  independence,  and  even  of  its  very  name. 
He  has  threatened  a  similar  fate  to  Prussia, 
and  proposes  to  reduce  us  to  the  dominion 
of  a  strange  people,  who  would  suppress  the 
very  name  of  Germans.  The  fate  of  armies, 
and  of  nations,  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Al- 
mighty ;  but  constant  victory,  and  durable 
prosperity,  are  never  granted  save  to  the 
cause  of  justice." 

While  Buonaparte  assembled  in  Franco- 
nia an  army  considerably  superior  in  num- 
ber to  that  of  the  Prussians,  the  latter  oc- 
cupied the  country  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
river  Saale,  and  seemed,  in  doing  so,  to  re- 
nounce all  the  advantage  of  making  the  at- 
tack on  the  enemy  ere  he  had  collected  his 
forces.  Yet  to  make  such  an  attack  was, 
and  must  have  been,  the  principal  motive 
of  their  hasty  and  precipitate  advance,  es- 
pecially after  they  had  secured  its  primary 
object,  the  accession  of  Saxony  to  the  cam- 
paign. The  position  which  the  Duke  of  , 
Brunswick  occupied  was  indeed  very  strong 
as  a  defensive  one,  but  the  means  of  support- 
ing so  largo  an  army  were  not  easily  to  be  ob- 
tained in  such  a  barren  country  as  that  about 
Weimar  j  and  their  magazines  and  depot! 


Chap  LIL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


437 


of  provisions  wer  j  injudiciously  placed,  not 
close  in  the  rear  of  the  army;  but  at  Naum- 
burg,  and  other  places,  upon  their  extreme 
left,  and  where  they  were  exposed  to  tlie 
risk  of  being  separated  from  thcni.  It  might 
be  partly  owing  to  the  difiiculty  of  obtain- 
ing forage  and  subsistence,  that  the  Prus- 
sian army  was  extended  upon  a  line  by  far 
too  much  prolonged  to  admit  of  mutual  sup- 
port. Indeed,  they  may  be  considered  rath- 
er as  disposed  in  cantonments  than  as  oc- 
cupying a  military  position  ;  and  as  they  re- 
mained strictly  on  the  defensive,  an  oppor- 
tunity was  gratuitously  oflered  to  Buona- 
parte to  attack  their  divisions  in  detail,  of 
which  he  did  not  fail  to  avail  himself  with 
his  usual  talent.  The  head-quarters  of  the 
Prussians,  where  were  the  King  and  Duke 
of  Brunswick,  were  at  Weimar;  their  left, 
■under  Prince  Hohenloe,  were  at  Sclileitz  ; 
land  their  right  extended  as  far  as  Muhl- 
bausen,  leaving  thus  a  space  of  ninety 
miles  betwixt  the  extreme  flanks  of  their 
line. 

Buonaparte,  in  the  meantime,  commenc- 
ed the  campaign,  according  to  u'k  custom, 
by  a  series  of  partial  actions  fouglit  on  dif- 
ferent points,  in  which  his  usual  combina- 
tions obtained  his  usual  success  ;  the  whole 
tending  to  straiten  the  Prussians  in  their 
position,  to  interrupt  their  communications, 
separate  them  from  their  supplies,  and  com- 
pel them  to  fight  a  decisive  battle  from  ne- 
cessity, not  choice,  in  which  dispirited 
troops,  under  baffled  and  outwitted  gener- 
als, were  to  encounter  with  soldiers  who 
had  already  obtained  a  foretaste  of  victory, 
and  who  fought  under  the  most  renowned 
commanders,  the  combined  efforts  of  the 
whole  being  directed  by  the  master  spirit 
of  the  age. 

Upon  the  8th  October,  fiuonaparte  gave 
vent  to  his  resentment  in  a  bulletin,  in 
which  he  con^plained  of  having  received  a 
letter  of  twenty  pages,  signed  by  the  King 
of  Prussia,  being,  as  he  alleged,  a  sort  of 
wretched  pamphlet,  such  as  England  en- 
gaged hireling  authors  to  compose  at  the 
rate  of  five  hundred  pounds  sterling  a-year. 
"lam  sorry,'' he  said,  "for  my  brother, 
who  does  not  understand  the  French  lan- 
guage, and  has  certainly  never  read  that 
rhapsody."  The  same  publication  contain- 
ed much  in  ridicule  of  the  Queen  and 
Prince  Louis.  It  bears  evident  marks  of 
Napoleon's  own  composition,  which  was 
as  singular,  though  not  so  felicitous,  as  his 
mode  of  fighting  ;  but  it  was  of  little  use 
to  censure  either  the  style  or  the  reasoning 
of  the  lord  of  so  many  legions.  His  arms 
soon  made  the  impression  which  he  desir- 
ed upon  the  position  of" the  enemy. 
I  The  French  advanced,  in  three  divisions, 
\  apon  the  dislocated  and  extended  disposi- 
tion of  the  large  but  ill-arranged  Prussian 
army.  It  was  a  primary  and  irretrievable 
fault  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  that  his 
magazines,  and  reserves  of  artillery  and  am- 
munition, were  placed  atNaumburg,  instead 
of  being  closed  in  the  rear  of  his  arn^y,  and 
under  the  protection  of  his  main  body. 
This  ill-timed  separation  rendered  it  easy 
I  tor  the  French  to  interpose  betwixt  the 


Prussians  and  their  supplies,  providing  tiiey 
were  able  to  clear  the  course  of  the  Saale. 
With  this  view  the  French  right  wing, 
commanded  by  Soult  and  Ney,  marched 
upon  Hof  The  centre  was  under  Berna- 
dotte  and  Davoust,  with  the  guard  com- 
manded by  Murat.  They  moved  on  Saal- 
burg  and  Sclileitz.  The  left  wing  was  led 
by  Augereau  against  Coburg  and  Saalfeld. 
It  was  the  object  of  this  grand  combined 
movement  to  overwhelm  the  Prussian  left 
wing,  which  was  extended  farther  than  pru- 
dence poj-mitted  ;  and,  having  beaten  this 
part  of  the  array,  to  turn  their  whole  posi- 
tion, and  possess  themselves  of  their  maga- 
zines. Alter  some  previous  skirmishes,  a 
serious  action  took  place  at  Saalfeld,  where 
Prince  Louis  of  Prussia  commanded  the 
advanced  guard  of  the  Prussian  left  wing. 

In  the  ardour  and  inexperience  of  youth, 
the  brave  Prince,  instead  of  being  content- 
ed with  defending  the  bridge  on  the  Saale, 
quitted  that  advantageous  position,  to  ad- 
vance with  unequal  forces  against  Lannes, 
who  was  marching  upon  him  from  Graffen- 
thal.  If  bravery  could  have  atoned  for  im- 
prudence, the  battle  of  Saalfeld  would  not 
have  been  lost.  Prince  Louis  showed  the 
utmost  gallantry  in  leading  his  men  when 
they  advanced,  and  in  rallying  them  when 
they  fled.  He  was  killed  fighting  hand  to 
hand  with  a  French  subaltern,  who  requir- 
ed him  to  surrender,  and  receiving  a  sabre- 
wound  for  reply,  plunged  his  sword  into  the 
Prince's  body.  Several  of  his  stafl"  fell 
around  him. 

The  victory  of  Saalfeld  opened  the  course 
of  the  Saale  to  the  French,  who  instantly 
advanced  on  Naumburg.  Buonaparte  was 
at  Gera,  within  half  a  day's  journey  from 
the  latter  city,  whence  he  sent  a  letter  to 
the  King  of  Prussia,  couched  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  victor,  (for  victorious  he  already 
felt  himself  by  his  numbers  and  position,) 
and  seasoned  with  the  irony  of  a  successful 
foe.  He  regretted  his  good  brother  had 
been  made  to  sign  the  wretched  pamphlet 
which  had  borne  his  name,  but  which  he 
protested  he  did  not  impute  to  him  as 
his  composition.  Had  Prussia  asked  any 
practicable  favour  of  him,  he  said  he  would 
have  granted  it  ;  but  she  had  aeked  his  dis- 
honour, and  ought  to  have  known  there 
could  be  but  one  answer.  In  considera- 
tion of  their  former  friendship,  Napoleon 
stated  himself  to  be  ready  to  restore  peace 
to  Prussia  and  her  monarch  ;  and,  advising 
his  good  brother  to  dismiss  such  coun- 
sellors as  recommended  the  present  war 
and  that  of  1792,  he  bade  him  heartily  fare- 
well. 

Buonaparte  neither  expected  nor  receiv- 
ed any  answer  to  this  missive,  which  was 
written  under  the  exulting  sensations  ex- 
perienced by  the  angler,  when  he  feels  the 
fish  is  hooked,  and  about  to  become  his  se- 
cure prey.  Naumburg  and  its  magazines 
were  consigned  to  the  flames,  which  first 
announced  to  the  Prussians  that  the  French 
army  had  gotten  completely  into  their  rear, 
had  destroyed  their  magazines,  and,  being 
now  interposed  betwixt  them  and  Saxony, 
left  them  no  alternative  save  that  of  battle 


438 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  UL 


%vhich  was  to  be  waged  at  the  greatest  dis- 
advantage with  an  alert  enemy,  to  whom 
their  supineness  had  already  given  the 
choice  of  time  and  place  for  it.  There  was 
also  this  ominous  consideration,  that,  in 
case  of  disaster,  the  Prussians  liad  neither 
principle,  nor  order,  nor  line  of  retreat.  The 
enemy  were  betwixt  them  and  Magdeburg, 
'vhich  ought  to  have  been  their  rallying 
point ;  and  the  army  of  the  Great  Frederick 
was,  it  must  be  owned,  brought  to  combat 
with  as  little  reflection  or  military  science, 
as  a  herd  of  school-boys  might  have  display- 
ed in  a  mutiny. 

Too  late  determined  to  make  spome  exer- 
tion to  clear  their  comraunic-ations  to  the 
rear,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  with  the  King 
of  Prussia  in  person,  marched  with  great 

Eart  of  their  army  to  the  recovery  ofNaum- 
urg.  Here  Davoust,  who  had  taken  the 
place,  remained  at  the  head  of  a  division  of 
six-and-thirty  thousand  men,  with  whom  he 
was  to  oppose  nearly  double  the  number. 
The  march  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  was 
so  slow,  as  to  lose  the  advantage  of  this  su- 
periority. He  paused  on  the  evening  of  the 
twelfth  on  the  heights  of  Auerstadt,  and 
gave  Davoust  time  to  reinforce  the  troops 
with  which  he  occupied  the  strong  defile  of 
Koesen.  The  next  morning,  Davoust,  with 
strong  reinforcements,  but  still  unequal  in 
numbers  to  the  Prussians,  marched  towards 
the  enemy,  whose  columns  were  already  in 
motion.  The  vanguard  of  both  armies  met, 
without  previously  knowing  that  they  were 
6o  closely  approaching  each  other,  so  thick 
lay  the  mist  upon  the  ground. 

The  village  of  Hassen-Hausen,  near 
which  the  opposite  armies  were  first  made 
aware  of  each  other's  proximity,  became  in- 
stantly the  scene  of  a  severe  conflict,  and 
was  taken  and  retaken  repeatedly.  The 
Prussian  cavalry,  being  superior  in  numbers 
to  that  of  the  French,  and  long  famous  for 
its  appointments  and  discipline,  attacked 
repeatedly,  and  was  as  often  resisted  by  the 
French  squares  of  infantry,  whom  they  found 
it  impossible  to  throw  into  disorder,  or  break 
upon  any  point.  The  French  having  thus 
repelled  the  Prussian  horse,  carried  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet  some  woods  and  the 
village  of  Spilberg,  and  remained  in  un» 
disturbed  possession  of  that  of  Hassen-Hau- 
een.  The  Prussians  had  by  this  time  main- 
tained the  battle  from  eight  in  the  morning 
till  eleven,  and  being  now  engaged  on  all 
points,  with  the  exception  of  two  divisions 
of  the  reserve,  had  suffered  great  loss.  The 
Generalissimo,  Duke  of  Brunswick,  wound- 
ed in  the  face  by  a  grape-shot,  was  carried 
off;  so  was  General  Schmettau,  and  other 
officers  of  distinction.  The  want  of  an  ex- 
perienced chief  began  to  be  felt,  when,  to 
increase  the  difliculties  of  their  situation, 
the  King  of  Prussia  received  intelligence 
that  General  Mollendorf,  who  commanded 
his  right  wing,  stationed  near  Jena,  was  in 
the  act  of  being  defeated  by  Buonaparte  in 
person.  The  King  took  the  generous  but 
perhaps  desperate  resolution,  of  trying, 
whether  in  one  general  charge  he  could  not 
redeem  the  fortune  of  the  day,  by  defeating 
that  part  of  the  French  with  which  he  was 


personally  engaged.  He  ordered  the  at- 
tack to  be  made  along  all  the  line,  and  with 
all  the  forces  which  he  had  in  the  field  ; 
and  his  commands  were  obeyed  with  gal- 
lantry enough  to  vindicate  the  honour  of 
the  troops,  but  not  to  lead  to  success.  They 
were  beaten  off,  and  the  French  resumed 
the  offensive  in  their  turn. 

Still  the  Prussian  monarch,  who  seems 
now  to  have  taken  the  command  upon  him- 
self, endeavouring  to  supply  the  want  of 
professional  experience  by  courage,  brought 
up  his  last  reserves,  and  encouraged  his  bro- 
ken troops  rather  to  make  a  final  stand  for 
victory,  than  to  retreat  in  face  of  a  conquer- 
ing army.  This  effort  also  proved  in  vain. 
The  Prussian  line  was  attacked  everywhere 
at  once  ;  centre  and  wings  were  brokea 
through  by  the  French  at  the  bayonet's 
point;  and  the  retreat,  after  so  many  fruit- 
less efforts,  in  which  no  division  had  beea 
left  unengaged,  was  of  the  most  disorderly 
character.  But  the  confusion  was  increas- 
ed tenfold,  when,  as  the  defeated  troopa 
reached  Weimar,  they  fell  in  with  the  right 
wing  of  their  own  army,  fugitives  like  them- 
selves, and  who  were  attempting  to  retreat 
in  the  same  direction.  The  disorder  of  two 
routed  armies  meeting  in  opposing  currents, 
soon  became  inextricable.  The  roads  were 
choked  up  with  artillery  and  baggage  wag- 
ons ;  the  retreat  became  a  hurried  flight; 
and  the  King  himself,  who  had  shown  the 
utmost  courage  during  the  battle  of  Auer- 
stadt, was  as  length,  for  personal  safety, 
compelled  to  leave  the  high  roads,  and  es- 
cape across  the  fields,  escorted  by  a  small 
body  of  cavalry. 

While  the  left  of  the  Prussian  army  were 
in  the  act  of  combating  Davoust  at  Auer- 
stadt, their  right,  as  we  have  hinted,  were 
with  equally  bad  fortune  engaged  at  Jena. 
This  second  action,  though  the  least  impor- 
tant of  the  two,  has  always  given  the  name 
to  the  double  battle  ;  because  it  was  at  Je- 
na that  Napoleon  was  engaged  in  person. 

The  French  Emperor  had  arrived  at  thia 
town,  which  is  situated  upon  the  Saade,  oa 
the  13th  of  October,  and  had  lost  no  time 
in  issuing  those  orders  to  his  Mareschals, 
which  produced  the  demonstrations  of  Da- 
voust, and  the  victory  of  Auerstadt.  His  at- 
tention was  not  less  turned  to  the  position 
he  himself  occupied,  and  in  which  he  had 
the  prospect  of  fighting  Mollendorf,  and  the 
right  of  ihe  Prussians,  on  tlie  next  morning. 
With  his  usual  activity,  he  formed  or  en- 
larged, in  the  course  of  the  night,  the  roada 
by  which  he  proposed  to  bring  up  his  artil- 
lery on  the  succeeding  day,  and,  by  hewing 
the  solid  rock,  made  a  path  practicable  for 
guns  to  the  plateau,  or  elevated  plain  in  the 
front  of  Jena,  where  his  centre  was  estab- 
lished. The  Prussian  army  lay  before  them, 
extended  on  a  line  of  six  leagues,  while 
that  of  Napoleon,  extremely  concentrated, 
showed  a  very  narrow  front,  but  was  well 
secured  both  in  the  flanks  and  in  the  rear. 
Buonaparte,  according  to  his  custom,  slept 
in  the  bivouac,  surrounded  by  his  guaros. 
In  the  morning  he  harangued  his  soldiers, 
and  recommended  to  them  to  stand  firm 
against  the  charges  of  the  Prussian  cavalry^ 


Chap.  LJL] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


430 


which  had  been  represented  as  very  re- 
doubtable. As  before  Ulm  he  had  promis- 
ed his  soldiers  a  repetition  of  the  battle  of 
Marengo,  so  now  he  pointed  out  to  his  men 
that  the  Prussians,  separated  from  their 
magazines,  and  cut  off  from  their  country, 
were  in  the  situation  of  Macl<  at  Ulm.  He 
told  them  that  the  enemy  no  longer  fought 
for  honour  and  victory,  but  for  the  chance  of 
opening  a  way  to  retreat ;  and  he  added,  that 
the  corps  which  sliould  ]icrmit  them  to  es- 
cape would  lose  their  honour.  The  French 
replied  with  loud  sliouts,  and  demanded  in- 
stantly to  advance  to  the  con^bat.  The  Em- 
peror ordered  the  columns  destined  for  the 
attack  to  descend  into  the  plain.  His  cen- 
tre consisted  of  the  Imperial  Guard  and 
two  divisions  of  Lanncs.  Augereau  com- 
manded the  right,  which  rested  on  a  village 
and  a  forest ;  and  Soult's  division,  with  a 
part  of  Ney's,  were  upon  the  left. 

General  Mollenclorf  advanced  on  his  side, 
and  both  armies,  as  at  Auerstadt,  were  hid 
from  each  other  by  the  mist,  until  suddenly 
the  atmosphere  cleared,  and  showed  them 
to  each  other  within  the  distance  of  half 
cannon-shot.  The  conflict  instantly  com- 
menced. It  began  on  the  F'rench  right, 
where  the  Prussians  attacked  with  the  pur- 
pose of  driving  Augereau  from  the  village 
on  which  he  rested  his  extreme  flank.  Lan- 
nes  was  sent  to  support  him,  by  whose  suc- 
cour he  was  enabled  to  stand  his  ground. 
The  battle  then  became  general,  and  the 
Prussians  showed  themselves  such  masters 
of  discipline,  that  it  was  long  impossible  to 
gain  any  advantage  over  men,  who  advanced, 
retired,  or  moved  to  cither  flank,  with  the 
regularity  of  machines.  Soult  at  length,  by 
the  most  desperate  efforts,  dispossessed  the 
Prussians  opposed  to  him  of  the  woods  from 
which  they  had  annoyed  the  French  left ; 
and  at  the  same  conjuncture  the  division 
of  Ney,  and  a  large  reserve  of  cavalry,  ap- 
peared upon  the  field  of  battle.  Napoleon, 
thus  strengthened,  advanced  the  centre, 
consisting  in  a  great  measure  of  the  Impe- 
rial Guard,  who,  being  fresh  and  in  the  high- 
est spirits,  compelled  the  Prussian  army  to 
give  way.  Their  retreat  was  at  first  order- 
ly ;  but  it  was  a  part  of  Buonaparte's  tactics 
to  pour  attack  after  attack  upon  a  worsted 
enemy,  as  the  billows  of  a  tempestuous 
ocean  follow  each  other  in  succession,  till 
the  last  waves  totally  disperse  the  fragments 
of  the  bulwark  which  the  first  have  breach- 
ed. Murat,  at  the  head  of  the  dragoons  and 
the  cavalry  of  reserve,  charged,  as  one  who 
would  merit,  as  far  as  bravery  could  merit, 
the  splendid  destinies  which  seemed  now 
opening  to  him.  The  Prussian  infantry 
were  unable  to  support  the  shock,  nor  could 
their  cavalry  protect  them.  The  rout  be- 
came general.  Great  part  of  the  artillery 
was  taken,  and  the  broken  troops  retreated 
in  disorder  upon  Weimar,  where,  as  we 
have  already  stated,  their  confusion  became 
inextricable,  by  their  encountering  the  oth- 
er tide  of  fugitives  from  their  own  left, 
which  was  directed  upon  Weimar  also.  All 
leading  and  following  seemed  now  lost  in 
this  army,  so  lately  confiding  in  its  numbers 
and  discipline.    There  was  scarcely  a  gen- 


eral left  to  issue  orders,  scarcely  a  soldier 
disposed  to  obey  them ;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  more  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  than  any 
resolved  purpose,  that  several  broken  regi- 
ments were  directed,  or  directed  them- 
selves, upon  Magdeburg,  where  Prince  Ho- 
henloe  endeavoured  to  rally  them. 

Besides  the  double  battle  of  Jena  and 
Auerstadt,  Bernadotte  had  his  sliare  in  the 
conflict,  as  he  worsted  at  Apolda,  a  village 
betvvi.\t  these  two  points  of  general  action, 
a  large  detachment.  The  Frencii  accounts 
state  that  20,000  Prussians  were  killed  and 
taken  in  the  course  of  this  fatal  day  ;  that 
three  hundred  guns  fell  into  their  power, 
with  twenty  generals,  or  lieutenant-gener- 
als, and  standards  and  colours  to  the  num- 
ber of  sixty. 

The  mismanagement  of  the  Prussian 
generals  in  these  calamitous  battles,  and  in 
all  the  nianceuvres  which  preceded  them, 
amounted  to  infatuation.  The  troops  also, 
according  to  Buonaparte's  evidence,  scarce- 
ly maintained  their  high  character,  oppress- 
ed probat iy  by  a  sense  of  the  disadvantages 
under  which  they  combated.  But  it  is 
unnecessary  to  dwell  on  the  various  causes 
of  a  defeat,  when  the  vanquished  seem  nei- 
ther to  have  formed  one  combined  and  gen- 
eral plan  of  attack  in  the  action,  nor  main- 
tained communication  with  each  other 
while  it  endured,  nor  agreed  upon  any 
scheme  of  retreat  when  the  day  was  lost. 
The  Duke  of  Brunswick,  too,  and  General 
Schmettau,  being  mortally  wounded  early 
in  the  battle,  the  several  divisions  of  the 
Prussian  army  fought  individually,  without 
receiving  any  general  orders,  and  conse- 
quently without  regular  plan  or  combined 
mancBuvres.  The  consequences  of  the  de- 
feat were  more  universally  calamitous  than 
could  have  been  anticipated,  even  when 
we  consider,  that,  no  mode  of  retreat  hav- 
ing been  fixed  on,  or  general  rallying  place 
appointed,  the  broken  army  resembled  a 
covey  of  heath-fowl,  which  the  sportsman 
marks  down  and  destroys  in  detail  and  at  his 
leisure. 

Next  day  after  the  action,  a  large  body 
of  the  Prussians,  who,  under  the  command 
of  Mollendorf,  had  retired  to  Erfurt,  were 
compelled  to  surrender  to  the  victors,  and 
the  Mareschal,  with  the  Prince  of  Orange 
Fulda,  became  prisoners.  Other  relrcs  of 
this  most  unhappy  defeat  met  with  the 
same  fate.  General  Kalkreuth,  at  the 
head  of  a  considerable  division  of  troops, 
was  overtaken  and  routed  in  an  attempt  to 
cross  the  Hartz  mountains.  Prince  Eugene 
of  Wirtemberg  commanded  an  untouched 
body  of  sixteen  thousand  men,  whom  the 
Prussian  general-in-chief  had  suffered  to 
remain  at  Memmingen,  without  an  attempt 
to  bring  them  into  the  field.  Instead  of 
retiring  when  he  heard  all  was  lost,  the 
Prince  was  rash  enough  to  advance  towards 
Halle,  as  if  to  put  the  only  unbroken  divis- 
ion of  the  Prussian  army  in  the  way  of  the 
far  superior  and  victorious  hosts  of  France. 
He  was  accordingly  attacked  and  defeated 
by  Bernadotte. 

The  chief  point  of  rallying,  however,  was 
Magdeburg,  under  the  walls  of  which  strong 


44U 


LIFE  OF  :N'AP0LE0N  BUONAPAR'l  t. 


IChap.  UL 


city,  Prince  Hohenloe,  though  wounded, 
contrived  to  assemble  an  army  amounting 
to  fifty  thousand  men,  but  "/anting  every- 
thing, and  in  the  last  degree  of  confusion. 
But  Magdeburg  was  no  place  of  rest  for 
them.  The  same  improvidence,  which  had 
marked  every  step  of  the  campaign,  had 
exhausted  that  city  of  the  immense  maga- 
zines which  it  contained,  and  taken  tliem 
for  the  supply  of  the  Duke  o;'  Brunswick's 
army.  The  wrecks  of  the  field  of  Jena 
were  exposed  to  famine  as  well  as  the 
sword.  It  only  remained  for  Prince  Ho- 
henloe to  make  the  best  escape  he  could 
to  the  Oder,  and,  considering  the  disastrous 
circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed,  lie 
seems  to  have  displayed  both  courage  and 
skill  in  his  proceedings.  After  various  par- 
tial actions,  however,  in  all  of  which  he 
lost  men,  he  finally  found  himself,  with  the 
advanced-guard  and  centre  of  his  army,  on 
the  heights  of  Prenzlow,  without  provis- 
ions, forage,  or  ammunition.  Surrender 
became  unavoidable  ;  and  at  Prenzlow  and 
Passewalk,  nearly  twenty  thousand  Prus- 
sians laid  down  their  arms. 

The  rear  of  Prince  Hohenloe's  army  did 
not  immediately  share  this  calamity.  They 
were  at  Bortzenberg  when  the  surrender 
took  place,  and  amounted  to  about  fen 
thousand  men,  the  relics  of  the  battle  in 
which  Prince  Eugene  of  Wircemberg  had 
engaged  near  Weimar,  and  were  under  the 
command  of  a  general  whose  name  here- 
at\er  was  destined  to  sound  like  a  war 
trumpet — the  celebrated  Blucher. 

In  the  extremity  of  his  country's  distres- 
ses, this  distinguished  soldier  showed  the 
same  indomitable  spirit,  the  same  activity 
in  execution  and  daringness  of  resolve, 
which  afterwards  led  to  such  glorious  re- 
sults. He  was  about  to  leave  Bortzenberg 
on  the  29th,  in  consequence  of  his  orders 
from  Prince  Hohenloe,  when  he  learned 
that  general's  disaster  at  Prenzlow.  He 
instantly  changed  the  direction  of  his  re- 
treat, and,  by  a  rapid  march  towards  Strelitz, 
contrived  to  unite  his  forces  with  about  ten 
thousand  men,  gleanings  of  Jena  and  Auer- 
stadt,  which,  under  the  Dukes  of  Weimar 
and  of  Brunswick  Oels,  had  taken  their 
route  in  that  direction.  Thus  r.;inforced, 
Blucher  adopted  the  plan  of  passing  the 
Elbe  at  Lauenburg,  and  reinforcing  the 
Prussian  garrisons  in  Lower  Saxony. 
With  this  view  he  fought  several  sharp  ac- 
tions, and  made  many  rapid  marches.  But 
the  odds  were  too  great  to  be  balanced  by 
courage  and  activity.  The  division  of 
Soult  which  had  crossed  the  Elbe,  cut  him 
off  from  Lauenburg,  that  of  Murat  inter- 
posed between  him  and  .Stralsund,  while 
Bernadotte  pressed  upon  his  rear.  Blu- 
cher had  no  resource  but  to  throw  himself 
and  his  diminished  and  dispirited  army  in- 
to Lubcck.  The  pursuers  came  soon  up, 
and  found  him  like  a  stag  at  bay.  A  battle 
was  fought  on  the  6lh  of  November  in  the 
streets  of  Lubeck,  with  extreme  fury  on 
both  sides,  in  which  the  Prussians  were 
overpowered  by  numbers,  and  lost  many 
slain,  besides  four  thousand  prisoners. 
Blucher  fought  his  way  out  of  the  town,  and 


reached  Schwerta.  But  he  had  now  re- 
treated as  far  as  he  had  Prussian  ground  to 
bear  him,  and  to  violate  the  neutrality  of 
the  Danish  territory,  would  only  have  rais- 
ed up  new  enemies  to  his  unfortunate  mas- 
ter. 

On  the  7th  November,  therefore,  he 
gave  up  his  good  sword,  to  be  resumed  un- 
der happier  auspices,  and  surrendered  with 
the  few  thousand  men  which  remained  un- 
der liis  command.  But  the  courage  which 
he  had  manifested,  like  the  lights  of  St. 
Elmo  amid  the  gloom  of  the  tempest,  show- 
ed that  there  was  at  least  one  pupil  of  the 
Great  Frederick  worthy  of  his  master,  and 
aiibrded  hopes,  on  wiiich  Prussia  long 
dwelt  in  silence,  till  the  moment  of  action 
arrived. 

The  total  destruction,  for  such  it  might 
almost  be  termed,  of  the  Prussian  army, 
was  scarcely  so  wonderful,  as  the  facility 
with  which  the  fortresses  which  defend  that 
country,  some  of  them  ranking  among  the 
foremost  in  Europe,  were  surrendered  by 
their  commandants,  without  shame,  and 
witliout  resistance,  to  the  victorious  enemy. 
Strong  towns,  an  J  fortified  places,  on 
which  the  engineer  had  exhausted  his  sci- 
ence, provided  too  with  large  garrisons, 
and  ample  supplies,  opened  their  gates  at 
the  sound  of  a  French  trumpet,  or  the  ex- 
plosion of  a  few  bombs.  Spandau,  Stettin, 
Custrin,  Hamelen,  were  each  qualified  to 
have  arrested  the  march  of  invaders  for 
months,  yet  were  all  surrendered  on  little 
more  than  a  summons.  In  Magdeburg  was 
a  garrison  of  twenty-two  thousand  men, 
two  thousand  of  them  being  artilleiymen  ; 
and  nevertheless  this  celebrated  city  ca- 
pitulated with  Mareschal  Ney  at  the  first 
riight  of  shells.  Hamelen  was  garrisoned 
by  six  thousand  troops,  amply  supplied 
with  provisions,  and  every  means  of  main- 
taining a  siege.  The  place  was  surrender- 
ed to  a  force  scarcely  one-third  in  propor- 
tion to  that  of  the  garrison.  These  inci- 
dents were  too  gross  to  be  imputed  to  folly 
and  cowardice  alone.  The  French  them- 
selves wondered  at  their  conquests,  yet  had 
a  shrewd  guess  at  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  rendered  so  easy.  When  the  recre- 
ant governor  of  Magdeburg  was  insulted  by 
the  students  of  Halle  for  treachery  as  well 
as  cowardice,  the  French  garrison  of  the 
place  sympathised,  as  soldiers,  with  the 
youthful  enthusiasm  of  the  scholars,  and 
afforded  the  sordid  old  coward  but  little 
protection  against  their  indignation.  From 
a  similar  generous  impulse,  Schoels,  the 
commandant  of  Hamelen,  was  nearly  de- 
stroyed by  the  troops  under  his  orders.  la 
surrendering  the  place,  he  had  endeavoured 
to  stipulate,  that,  in  case  the  Prussian  prov- 
inces should  pass  by  the  fortune  of  war  to 
some  other  power,  the  officers  should  re- 
tain their  pay  and  rank.  The  soldiers  were 
so  much  incensed  at  this  stipulation,  which 
carried  desertion  in  its  front,  and  a  proposal 
to  shape  a  private  fortune  to  himself  amid 
the  ruin  of  his  country,  that  Schoels  only 
saved  himself  by  delivering  up  the  place  to 
the  French  before  the  time  stipulated  in 
the  articles  of  capitulation. 


Chap.  LII.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


441 


It  is  believed  that,  on  several  of  these 
occasions,  the  French  constructed  a  golden 
key  to  open  these  iron  fortresses,  without 
being  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the 
precious  metal  which  composed  it.  Every 
large  garrison  has  of  course  a  military  chest 
with  treasure  for  the  regular  payment  of 
the  soldiery  ;  and  it  is  said  that  more  than 
oae  commandant  was  unable  to  resist  the 
proffer,  that,  in  case  of  an  immediate  sur- 
render, this  deposit  should  not  be  inquired 
into  by  the  captors,  but  left  at  the  disposal 
of  the  governor,  whose  accommodating  dis- 
position had  saved  them  the  time  and 
trouble  of  a  siege. 

Wiiile  the  French  army  made  this  unin- 
terrupted progress,  the  new  King  of  Hol- 
land. Louis  Buonaparte,  with  an  army  partly 
composed  of  Dutch  and  partly  of  Frenchmen, 
possessed  himself  with  equal  ease  of  West- 
phalia, great  part  of  Hanover,  Emden,  and 
V^ist  Friesland. 

To  complete  the  picture  of  general  dis- 
order which  Prussia  now  exhibited,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  add,  that  the  unfortunate 
king,  whose  personal  qualities  deserved  a 
better  fate,  had  been  obliged  after  the  battle 
to  fly  into  East  Prussia,  where  lie  finally 
sought  refuge  in  the  city  of  Koningsberg. 
L'Estocq,  a  faithful  and  able  general,  was 
still  able  to  assemble  out  of  the  wreck  of 
the  Prussian  army  a  few  thousand  men,  for 
the  protection  of  his  sovereign.  Buonaparte 
look  possession  of  Berlin  on  the  2.5th  Octo- 
ber, eleven  days  after  the  battle  of  Jena. 
The  mode  in  which  he  improved  his  good 
fortune,  we  reserve  for  future  consideration. 

The  fall  of  Prussia  was  so  sudden  and  so 
total,  as  to  excite  the  general  astonishment 
of  Europe.     Its  prince  %vas    compared  to 
the  rash  and  inexperienced  gambler,  who 
risks  his  whole  fortune  on  one  desperate 
cast,  and  rises  from  the  table  totally  ruined. 
That  power  had  for  three  quarters  of  a  cen- 
tury ranked  among  the  most  important  of 
Europe  ;  but  never  had  she  exhibited  such 
a  forinid.ible  position  as  almost  immediately 
before  her  disaster,  when,  holding  in  her 
own  hand  the  balance  of  Europe,  she  might. 
before  the  day  of  Austerlitz,  have  inclined 
the  scale  to  which  side  she  would.  And  now 
she  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  antagonist  whom 
she  had  rashly  and  in  ill  time  defied,  not 
fallen  merely,  but  totally  prostrate,  without 
the  means  of  making  a  single  effort  to  arise. 
It  was  remembered  that  Austria,  when  her 
armies  were  defeated,  and  her  capital  taken. 
had  still  found  resources  in  the  courage  of 
her  subjects,  and  that  the  insurrections  of 
Hungary  and  Bohemia  had  assumed,  even 
after  Buonaparte's  most  eminent  successes, 
a  character  so  formidable,  as  to  aid  in  pro- 
curing peace  for  the  defeated  Emperor  on  I 
moderate  terms.     .-Vustria,  therefore,    was  i 
like  a  fortress  repeatedly  besiescd,  and  as  I 
often  breached  and   damaged,    but    which  ! 
continued  to  be  tenable,  though  diininislied  j 
in  strength,  and  deprived  of  important  out-  ' 
works.     But  Prussia  seemed  like  the  sunic  i 
fortress  swallowed   up  by  an  earthquake,  I 
which  leaves  nothing  either  to  inhabit  or 
defend,    and  where  the  fearful  agency  of  | 
the  destrover  reduce-;  the  stroneeisf  bastions  : 
Vet.' I.  T2 


and  bulwarks  to  crumbled  masMS  of  niins 
and  rubbish. 

The  cause  of  this  great  distinction  between 
two  countries  which  have  so  often  contend- 
ed against  each  other  for  political  power, 
and  for  influence  in  Germany,  may  be  ea- 
sily traced. 

The  empire  of  Austria  combines  in  itself 
several  large  kingdoms,  the  undisturbed  and 
undisputed  dominions  of  a  common  sover- 
eign, to  whose  sway  they  have  been  long  ac- 
customed, and  towards  whom  they  nourish 
the  same  sentiments  of  loyalty  which  their 
fathers  entertained  to  the  ancient  princes 
of  the  same  house.  Austria's  natural  au- 
thority therefore  rested,  and  now  rests,  on 
this  broad  and  solid  base,  the  general  and 
rooted  attachment  of  the  people  to  their 
prince,  and  their  identification  of  his  inter- 
ests with  their  own. 

Prussia  had  also  her  native  provinces,  in 
which  her  authority  was  hereditary,  and 
where  the  affection,  loyalty,  and  patriotism 
of  the  inhabitants  were  natural  qualities, 
which  fathers  transmitted  to  their  sons. 
But  a  large  part  of  her  dominions  consist 
of  late  acquisitions  obtained  at  different 
times  bv  the  arms  or  policy  of  the  great 
Frederick  ;  and  thus  her  territories,  made 
up  of  a  number  of  small  and  distant  states, 
want  geographical  breadth,  while  their  dis- 
proportioned  length  stretches,  according  to 
\"oltaire's  well-known  simile,  like  a  pair  of 
garters  across  the  map  of  Europe.  It  fol- 
lows as  a  natural  consequence,  that  a  long 
time  must  intervene  betwixt  the  formation 
of  such  a  kingdom,  and  the  amalgamation 
of  its  component  parts,  differing  in  lawjjj 
manners,  and  usages,  into  one  compact  and 
solid  monarchy,  having  respect  and  affection 
to  their  king,  as  the  common  head,and  regard 
to  each  other  as  members  of  the  same  com- 
munity. It  will  require  generations  to  pass 
away,  ere  a  kingdom,  so  artificially  com- 
posed, can  be  cemented  into  unity  and 
strength  ;  and  the  tendency  to  remain  dis- 
united, is  greatly  increased  by  the  disad- 
vantages of  its  geographical  situation. 

These  considerations  alone  might  explain, 
why,  after  the  fatal  battle  of  Jena,  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  various  provinces  of  Prussia 
contributed  no  important  personal  assist- 
ance to  repel  the  invader ;  and  why,  al- 
though almost  all  trained  to  arms,  and  ac- 
customed to  serve  a  certain  time  in  the  line, 
they  did  not  display  any  readiness  to  exert 
themselves  against  tr.e  common  enemy 
They  felt  that  they  belonged  to  Prussi 
only  by  the  right  of  the  strongest,  and  there 
fore  were  indifferent  when  the  same  righ 
seemed  about  to  transfer  their  allegiance 
elsewhere.  They  saw  the  approaching  ruin 
of  the  Prussian  power,  not  as  children  view 
the  danger  of  a  father,  which  they  are  bound 
to  prevent  at  the  hazard  of  their  lives,  but 
as  servants  view  that  of  a  master,  which 
concerns  them  no  otherwise  than  as  leading 
to  a  change  of  their  employers. 

There  were  other  reasons,  tending  to 
paralyse  any  effort  at  popular  resistance 
which  affected  the  hereditary  states  of 
Prussia,  as  well  as  her  new  acquisitioivs. 
The  power  of  Prussia  had  appeared  to  d«. 


442 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


pend  a.most  entirely  upon  her  standing  ar- 
my, established  by  Frederick,  and  modelled 
according  to  his  rules.  When,  therefore, 
this  army  was  at  once  annihilated,  no  hope 
of  safety  was  entertained  by  those  who  had 
so  long  regarded  it  as  invincible.  The 
Prussian  peasant,  who  would  gladly  have 
joined  the  ranks  of  his  country  while  they 
continued  to  keep  the  field,  knew,  or 
thought  he  knew,  too  much  of  the  art  of 
war,  to  have  any  hope  in  the  efforts  which 
might  be  made  in  a  desultory  guerilla  war- 
fare ; — which,  however,  the  courage,  devo- 
tion, and  pertinacity  of  an  invaded  people 
have  rendered  the  most  formidable  means 
of  opposition  even  to  a  victorious  army. 

The  ruin  of  Prussia,  to  whatever  causes 
it  was  to  be  attributed,  seemed,  in  the  eyes 
of  astonished  Europe,  not  only  universal, 
but  irremediable.  The  King,  driven  to  the 
extremity  of  his  dominions,  could  only  be 
considered  as  a  fugitive,  whose  precarious 
chance  of  restoration  to  the  crown  depend- 
ed on  the  doubtful  success  of  his  ally  of 
Russia,  who  now,  as  after  the  capture  of  Vi- 
enna, had  upon  his  hands,  strong  as  those 
hands  were,  not  the  task  of  aiding  an  ally, 
who  was  in  the  act  of  resistance  to  the  com- 
mon enemy,  but  the  far  more  difficult  one 
of  raising  from  the  ground  a  prince  who 
was  totally  powerless  and  prostrate.  The 
French  crossed  the  Oder — Glogau  and  Bres- 
lau  were  taken.  Their  defence  was  re- 
spectable ;  but  it  seemed  not  the  less  cer- 
tain that  their  fall  involved  almost  the  last 
hopes  of  Prussia,  and  that  a  name  raised  so 
high  by  the  reign  of  one  wise  monarch,  was 
like  to  be  blotted  from  the  map  of  Europe 
by  the  events  of  a  single  day. 

Men  looked  upon  this  astonishing  calam- 
ity with  various  sentiments,  according  as 
they  considered  it  with  relation  to  the  Prus- 
sian administration  alone,  or  as  connected 
with  the  character  of  the  King  and  kingdom, 
and  the  general  interests  of  Europe.  In 
the  former  point  of  view,  the  mind  could 
not  avoid  acknowledging,  with  a  feeling  of 
embittered  satisfaction,  that  the  crooked 
and  selfish  policy  of  Prussia's  recent  con- 
duct,— as  short-sighted  as  it  was  grasping 
and  unconscientious, — bad  met  in  this  pres- 
ent hour  of  disaster  with  no  more  than  mer- 
ited chastisement.  The  indifference  with 
which  the  Prussian  cabinet  had  viewed  the 
distresses  of  the  House  of  Austria,  which 
their  firm  interposition  might  probably  have 
prevented — the  tot:U  want  of  conscience 
and  decency  with  which  they  accepted 
Hanover  from  France,  at  the  moment  when 
they  meditated  war  with  the  power  at  whose 
hand  they  received  it — the  shameless  rapa- 
city with  which  they  proposed  to  detain  the 
Electorate  from  its  legal  owner,  at  the  very 
time  when  they  were  negotiating  an  alli- 
ance with  Britain, — intimated  that  con- 
tempt of  the  ordinary  principles  of  justice, 
which,  while  it  renders  a  nation  undeserv- 
ing of  success,  is  frequently  a  direct  obsta- 
cle to  their  attaining  it.  Their  whole  pro- 
cedure was  founded  on  the  principles  of  a 
felon,  who  is  willing  to  betray  his  aceonx- 
plice,  profided  he  is  allowed  to  retain  his 
f wn  share  of  tiie  common  booty.     It  was 


[Chap.  m.  f 


wonder,  men  said,  that  a  government  set- 
ting such  an  example  to  its  subjects,  of 
greediness  and  breach  of  faith  in  its  public 
transactions,  should  find  among  them,  in 
the  hour  of  need,  many  who  were  capable 
of  preferring  their  own  private  interesta 
to  that  of  their  country.  And  if  the  con- 
duct of  this  wretched  administration  waa 
regarded  in  a  political  instead  of  a  mor- 
al point  of  view,  the  disasters  of  the 
kingdom  might  be  considered  as  the  con- 
sequence of  their  incapacity,  as  well  as 
the  just  remuneration  of  their  profligacy. 
The  hurried  and  presumptuous  declaration 
of  war,  after  every  favourable  opportunity 
had  been  suffered  to  escape,  and  indeed  the 
whole  conduct  of  the  campaign,  showed  a 
degree  of  folly  not  far  short  of  actual  imbe- 
cility, and  which  must  have  arisen  either 
from  gross  treachery,  or  something  like 
infatuation.  .So  far,  therefore,  as  the  min- 
isters of  Prussia  were  concerned,  they 
reaped  only  the  reward  due  to  their  politi- 
cal want  of  morality,  and  their  practical 
want  of  judgment. 

Very  different,  indeed,  were  the  feelings 
with  which  the  battle  of  Jena  and  its  con- 
sequences were  regarded,  when  men  con 
sidered  that  great  calamity  in  reference  not 
to  the  evil  counsellors  by  whom  it  was  pre- 
pared, but  to  the  prince  and  nation  who 
were  to  pay  the  penalty.  "  We  are  human," 
and  according  to  the  sentiment  of  the  poet, 
on  the  extinction  of  the  state  of  Venice,* 
"  must  mourn  even  when  the  shadow  of 
that  which  has  once  been  great  passes 
away."  But  the  apparent  destruction  of 
Prussia  was  not  like  the  departure  of  the 
aged  man,  whose  life  is  come  to  the  natur- 
al close,  or  the  fall  of  a  ruined  lower,  whose 
mouldering  arches  can  no  longer  support 
the  incumbent  weight.  These  are  viewed 
with  awe  indeed,  and  with  sympathy,  but 
they  do  not  excite  astonishment  or  horror. 
The  seeming  fate  of  the  Prussian  monarchy 
resembled  the  agonizing  death  of  him  who 
expires  in  the  flower  of  manhood.  The  fall 
of  the  House  of  Brandenburg  was  as  if  a 
castle,  with  all  its  trophied  turrets  strong 
and  entire,  should  be  at  once  hurled  to  the 
earth  by  a  super-human  power.  Men,  alike 
stunned  with  the  extent  and  suddenness  of 
the  catastrophe,  were  moved  with  sympa- 
thy for  those  instantly  involved  in  the  ruin, 
and  struck  with  terror  at  the  demolition  of 
a  bulwark,  by  the  destruction  of  which  all 
found  their  own  safety  endangered.  The 
excellent  and  patriotic  character  of  Freder- 
ick William,  on  whose  rectitude  and  hon- 
our even  the  misconduct  of  his  ministers 
had  not  brought  any  stain  ;  the  distress  of 
his  interesting,  high-spirited,  and  beautiful 
consort;  the  general  sufferings  of  a  brave 
and  proud  people,  accustomed  to  assume 
and  deserve  the  name  of  Protectors  of  the 
Protestant  Faith  and  of  the  Liberties  of  Ger- 
many, and  whose  energies,  corresponding 
with  the  talents  of  their  leader,  had  ena 


*  "  Men  are  we,  and  must  grieve  even  when  tb* 

shade 
Of  that  which  once  was  great  is  passed  away.' 
VVoRoiwoam 


Chap.  LHI] 


LIFE  OF  jN'APOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


443 


bled  them  in  former  times  to  withstand  the 
combined  force  of  France,  Austria,  and 
Russia, — excited  deep  and  generous  sym- 
pathy. 

Still  wider  did  that  sympathy  extend,  and 
more  thrilling  became  its  impulse,  when  it 
was  remembered  that  in  Prussia  fell  the 
last  state  of  Germany,  who  could  treat  with 
Napoleon  in  the  style  of  an  equal  ;  and  that 
to  the  exorbitant  power  which  France  al- 
ready possessed  in  the  south  of  Europe, 
was  now  to  be  added  an  authority  in  the 
north  almost  equally  arbitrary  and  equally 
extensive.  The  prospect  was  a  gloomy 
one  ;  and  they  who  felt  neither  for  the  fall- 
en authority  of  a  prince,  nor  the  destroyed 
independence  of  a  kingdom,  trembled  at 
Ihe  prospect  likely  to  be  entailed  on  their 
own  country  by  a  ruin,  which  seemed  as 
remediless  as  it  was  extensive  and  astound- 
ing. 

But  yet  the  end  was  wot. 

Providence,  which  disappoints  presumptu- 
ous hopes  by  the  event,  is  often  mercifully 
pleased  to  give  aid  when  human  aid  seems 
hopeless.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the 
doctrine  of  an  intermediate  state  of  suffer- 
ance and  purification  in  an  after  stage  of 
existence,  it  is  evident  from  history,  that  in 
this  world,  kingdoms,  as  %vell  as  individu- 
als, are  often  subjected  to  misfortunes  aris- 
ing from  their  own  errors,  and  which  prove 


in  the  event  conducive  to  future  regenera- 
tion. Prussia  was  exposed  to  a  long  and 
painful  discipline  in  the  severe  school  of 
adversity,  by  which  she  profited  in  such  a 
degree  as  enabled  her  to  regain  her  higli 
rank  in  the  republic  of  Europe,  with  more 
honour  perhaps  to  her  prince  and  people, 
than  if  she  had  never  been  thrust  from  her 
lofty  station.  Her  government,  it  may  be 
hoped,  have  learned  to  respect  the  rights  of 
other  nations,  from  the  sufferings  which  fol- 
lowed the  destruction  of  their  own — her 
people  have  been  taught  to  understand  the 
difference  between  the  dominion  of  stran- 
gers and  the  value  of  independence.  In- 
deed the  Prussians  showed  in  the  event, 
by  every  species  of  sacrifice,  how  fully  they 
had  become  aware,  that  the  blessing  of 
freedom  from  foreign  control  is  not  to  be 
secured  by  the  efforts  of  a  regular  army  on- 
ly, but  must  be  attained  and  rendered  per- 
manent by  the  general  resolution  of  the  na- 
tion, from  highest  to  lowest,  to  dedicate 
their  united  exertions  to  the  achievement 
of  the  public  liberty  at  every  risk,  and  by 
every  act  of  self-devotion.  Thei^improve- 
ment  under  the  stern  lessons  which  calam- 
ity taught  them,  we  shall  record  in  a  bright- 
er page.  For  the  time,  the  cloud  of  mis- 
fortune sunk  hopelessly  dark  over  Prussia, 
of  which  not  merely  the  renown,  but  the 
very  national  existence,  seemed  in  danger 
of  being  extinguished  forever. 


Cr.AP.   LIII. 

V'igeneroiis  conduct  of  Buonaparte  to  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  —  The  approach  of  the 
French  Troops  to  Brunswick  compels  the  dying  Prince  to  cause  himself  to  be  carried 
to  Altona,  where  he  expires. — Oath  of  Revenge  taken  by  his  Son. — At  Potsdam  and 
Berlin,  the  proceedings  of  Napoleon  art  equally  cruel  and  vindictive. — His  Clemency 
towards  the  Prince  of  Hatzfeld — His  Treatment  of  the  Lesser  Powers.— Jerome  Buo- 
naparte.— Seizure  of  Hamburgh. — Celebrated  Berlin  Decrees  against  British  Com- 
merce— Reasoning  as  to  their  justice — Napoleon  rejects  all  application  from  the  con- 
tinental commercial  toi07isto  relax  or  repeal  them. — Commerce,  nevertheless,  flourishes 
in  spite  of  them. — Second  anticipation  called  for  of  the  Conscription  for  1807. —  The 
King  of  Prussia  applies  for  an  Ai^mistice,  which  is  clogged  with  guch  harsh  terms  that 
he  refuses  them. 


The  will  of  N'apoleon  seemed  now  the  only 
law,  from  which  the  conquered  country 
that  so  late  stood  forth  as  the  rival  of  France, 
was  to  expect  her  destiny  ;  and  circum- 
stances indicated,  that,  with  more  than  the 
fortune  of  Ccesar  or  Alexander,  the  Con- 
queror would  not  emulate  their  generosity 
or  clemency. 

The  treatment  of  the  ill-fited  Uuke  of 
Brunswick  did  little  honour  to  the  vi.-tor. 
After  receiving  a  monal  wound  on  the  field 
ol"  battle,  he  was  transported  from  thence 
to  Brunswick,  his  hereditary  capital.  I'pon 
attaining  his  native  dominions,  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  which  his  conduct  liad  been  al- 
ways patriotic  and  praiseworthy,  he  y.ro.e 
to  Napoleon,  representing  that,  although 
ho  had  fought  against  him  as  a  general  In 
the  Prussian  service,  he  nevertheless,  as  a 
Prince  of  the  Kiiipire.  recommended  his 
hereditary  principality  to  the  moderation 
and  clemency  of  the  victor.  This  attempt 
k)  separate  his  two  characters,  or  to  appeal 


to  the  immunities  cff  a  league  which  Napo- 
leon had  dissolved,  although  natural  in  the 
Duke's  forlorn  situation,  formed  a  plea  not 
likely  to  be  attended  to  by  the  conqueror. 
But,  on  oth^r  and  broader  grounds,  Buona- 
parte, if  not  influenced  by  personal  animos- 
ity against  tT.3  Duke,  or  desirous  to  de- 
grade, in  his  person,  the  father-in-law  of 
the  heir  of  the  British  crown,  might  have 
found  reasons  for  treating  the  defeated 
general  with  the  respect  due  to  his  rank 
and  his  misfortunes.  The  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick was  one  of  the  oldest  soldiers  in  Eu- 
rope, and  his  unquestioned  bravery  ought 
to  have  recommended  him  to  his  junior  m 
arms.  He  was  a  reigning  prince,  and  Buo- 
naparte's own  aspirations  towards  confirr.Ki- 
tion  cf  aristocratical  rank  should  have  led 
hitii  to  treat  the  vanquished  with  decent ^ . 
.\bove  all,  the  Duke  was  defence]'^<«. 
wounded,  dying;  a  situation  to  commipd 
the  sympathy  of  every  military  man,  who 
knows  on  what  casual  circumstances  tb^ 


444 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[CAop.  LIU. 


fate  of  battle  depends.  The  answer  of  Na- 
poleon  was,  nevertheless,  harsh  and  insult- 
ing in  the  last  degree.  He  reproached  the 
departing  general  with  his  celebrated  proc- 
lamation against  France  in  1792,  with  the 
result  of  his  unhappy  campaign  in  that 
country,  with  the  recent  summons  by  whicli 
the  French  had  been  required  to  retreat 
beyond  the  Rhine.  He  charged  him  as 
having  been  the  instigator  of  a  war  which 
his  counsels  ought  to  have  prevented.  He 
announced  the  right  which  he  had  acquired, 
to  leave  not  one  stone  standing  upon  anoth- 
er in  the  town  of  Brunswick;  and  summed 
up  his  ungenerous  reply  by  intimating,  that 
though  he  might  treat  the  subjects  of  the 
Duke  like  a  generous  victor,  it  was  his 
purpose  to  deprive  the  dying  Prince  and 
his  family  of  their  hereditary  sovereignty. 
As  if  to  fulfil  these  menaces,  the  French 
troops  approached  the  city  of  Brunswick ; 
and  the  wounded  veteran,  dreading  the  fur- 
ther resentment  of  his  ungenerous  victor, 
was  compelled  to  cause  himself  to  be  re- 
moved to  the  neutral  town  of  Altona,  where 
he  expired.  An  application  from  his  son, 
requesting  permission  to  lay  his  father's 
body  in  the  tomb  of  his  ancestors,  was  re- 
jected with  the  same  sternness,  which  had 
characterised  Bajnaparte's  answer  to  the 
attempt  of  the  Duke,  when  living,  to  soften 
his  enmity.  The  successor  of  the  Duke 
vowed,  it  is  believed,  to  requite  these  in- 
sults with  mortal  hatred, — did  much  to  ex- 
press it  during  his  life, — and  bequeathed  to 
his  followers  the  legacy  of  revenge,  which 
the  Black  Brunswickers  had  the  means  of 
amply  discharging  upon  the  18th  of  June 
1815. 

Some  have  imputed  this  illiberal  conduct 
of  Buonaparte  to  an  ebullition  of  spleen 
against  the  object  of  his  personal  dislike ; 
others  have  supposed  that  his  resentment 
was,  in  whole  or  part,  affected,  in  order  to 
ground  upon  it  his  resolution  of  confiscating 
the  state  of  Brunswick,  and  uniting  it  with 
the  kingdom  of  Westphalia,  which,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  he  proposed  to  erect  as 
an  appanage  for  his  {brother  Jerome.  Wheth- 
er arising  from  a  burst  of  temperament,  or 
a  cold  calculation  of  interested  selfishness, 
his  conduct  was  equally  unworthy  of  a  mon- 
arch and  a  soldier. 

At  Potsdam  and  at  Berlin,  Napoleon  show- 
ed himself  equally  as  the  sworn  and  impla- 
cable enemy,  rather  than  as  the  generous 
conqueror  At  Potsdam  he  seized  on  the 
sword,  belt,  and  hat  of  the  Great  Freder- 
ick, and  at  Berlin  he  appropriated  and  re- 
moved to  Paris  the  monument  of  Victory, 
erected  by  the  same  monarch,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  defeat  of  the  French  at 
Rosbach.  The  finest  paintings  and  works 
of  art  in  Prussia  were  seized  upon  for 
the  benefit  of  the  French  National  Mu- 
seum. 

The  language  of  the  victor  corresponded 
<vith  his  actions.  His  bulletins  and  proc- 
lamations abounded  with  the  same  bitter 
sarcasms  against  the  King,  the  Qtiooii,  and 
those  whom  he  called  the  war  factinii  of 
Prussia.  Ascribing  the  war  to  the  unre- 
prftaed  audacity  of  the  young  nobility,  he 


said,  in  one  of  those  proclamations,  he 
would  permit  no  more  rioting  in  Berlin,  no 
more  breaking  of  windows ;  and,  in  ad- 
dressing the  Count  Neale,  he  threatened, 
in  plain  terms,  to  reduce  the  nobles  of  Prus- 
sia to  beg  their  bread.  These,  and  similar 
expressions  of  irritated  spleen,  used  in  the 
hour  of  conquest,  level  the  character  of  the 
great  victor  with  that  of  the  vulgar  Eng- 
lishman in  the  farce,  who  cannot  be  satisfi- 
ed with  beating  his  enemy,  but  must  scold 
him  also.  Napoleon's  constant  study  of 
the  poetry  ascribed  to  Ossian,  might  have 
taught  him  that  wrath  should  fly  on  eagles' 
wings  from  a  conquered  foe.  The  soldiers, 
and  even  the  officers,  caught  the  example 
of  their  Emperor,  and  conceived  they  met 
his  wishes  by  behaving  more  imperiously 
in  quarters,  and  producing  more  distress  to 
their  hosts,  than  had  been  their  custom  in 
the  Austrian  campaigns.  Great  aggressions, 
perhaps,  were  rarely  perpetrated,  and 
would  have  been  punished,  as  contrary  to 
military  discipline  ;  but  a  grinding,  con- 
stant, and  unremitting  system  of  vexation 
and  requisition,  was  bitterly  felt  by  the 
Prussians  at  the  time,  and  afterwards  stern- 
ly revenged. 

It  is  but  justice,  however,  to  record  an 
act  of  clemency  of  Napoleon  amid  these 
severities.  He  had  intercepted  a  letter 
containing  some  private  intelligence  re- 
specting the  motions  of  the  French,  sent 
by  Prince  Hatzfeld,  late  the  Prussian  gov- 
ernor of  Berlin,  to  Prince  Hohenloe,  then 
still  at  the  head  of  an  army.  Napoleon  ap- 
pointed a  military  commission  for  the  trial 
of  Hatzfeld  ;  and  his  doom,  for  continuing 
to  serve  his  native  prince  after  his  capital 
had  been  occupied  by  the  enemy,  would 
have  been  not  less  certain  than  severe. 
His  wife,  however,  threw  herself  at  Napo- 
leon's feet,  who  put  into  her  hands  the  fatal 
document  which  contained  evidence  of 
what  was  called  her  husband's  guilt,  with 
permission  to  throw  it  into  the  fire.  Tile 
French  Emperor  is  entitled  to  credit  for 
the  degree  of  mercy  he  showed  on  this  oc- 
casion; but  it  must  be  granted  at  the  same 
time,  that  to  have  proceeded  to  sentence 
and  execution  upon  such  a  charge,  would 
have  been  an  act  of  great  severity,  if  not  of 
actual  atrocity.  If,  as  has  been  alleged,  the 
correspondence  of  Prince  Hatzfeld  was 
dated  before,  not  after  the  capitulation  of 
Berlin,  his  death  would  have  been  an  un- 
qualified murder. 

The  victor,  who  had  all  at  his  disposal, 
was  now  to  express  his  pleasure  concerning 
those  satellites  of  Prussia,  which,  till  her 
fall,  had  looked  up  to  her  as  their  natural 
protector  and  ally.  Of  these,  Saxony  and 
Hesse-Cassel  were  the  principal  ;  and,  in 
his  proceedings  towards  them,  Buonaparte 
regarded  the  train  of  his  own  policy  much 
more  than  the  merits  which  the  two  elec- 
tors might  have  respectively  pleaded  to- 
wards France. 

Saxony  had  joined  her  arms  to  those  of 
Prussia — forced,  as  she  said,  by  the  argu- 
ments which  a  powerful  neighbour  can  al- 
ways apply  to  a  weaker — still  she  Aod  join- 
ed her,  and  fought  on  her  side  at  tlie  battle 


Chap.  LIll] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


445 


of  Jena.  The  apology  of  compulsion  was 
admitted  by  Buonaparte  ;  the  Saxon  troops 
were  dismissed  upon  their  parole,  and  their 
Prince  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  King,  shortly 
afterwards  admitted  as  a  member  of  the 
Confederacy  of  the  Rhine,  and  treated  by 
Buonaparte  with  much  personal  considera- 
tion. The  Dukes  of  Saxe-Weimar  and  Saxe- 
Gotha  also  were  permitted  to  retain  their 
dominions,  on  acknowledging  a  similar  vas- 
salage to  the  French  empire. 

The  Landgrave,  or  Elector,  of  Hesse- 
Cassel,  might  have  expected  a  still  more 
favourable  acceptance  in  the  eyes  of  the 
victor,  for  he  had  refused  to  join  Prussia, 
and,  in  spite  of  threats  and  persuasions,  had 
observed  neutrality  during  the  brief  contest. 
But  Napoleon  remembered,  to  the  preju- 
dice of  tlie  Landgrave,  that  he  had  resisted 
all  previous  temptations  to  enter  into  the 
Confederation  of  the  Rhine.  He  imputed 
his  neutrality  to  fear,  not  choice.  He  alleg- 
ed, that  it  had  not  been  strictly  observed  ; 
and,  treating  the  inaction  of  Hesse,  whose 
inclinations  were  with  Prussia,  as  a  greater 
crime  than  the  actual  hostilities  of  Saxony, 
whose  will  was  with  France,  he  declared, 
according  to  his  usual  form  of  dethrone- 
ment, that  the  House  of  Hesse-Cassel  had 
ceased  to  reign.  The  doom  was  executed 
even  before  it  was  pronounced.  Louis  Buo- 
naparte, with  Marshal  Mortier,  had  possess- 
ed himself  of  Hesse-Cassel  by  the  1st  of 
November.  The  army  of  the  Landgrave 
made  no  resistance — a  part  of  them  passed 
under  the  banners  of  France,  the  rest  were 
disbanded. 

The  real  cause  of  seizing  the  territories 
of  an  unoffending  prince  who  was  totally 
helpless,  unless  in  so  far  as  right  or  justice 
could  afford  him  protection,  was  Buona- 
parte's previous  resolution,  already  hinted 
at,  to  incorporate  Hesse-Cassel  with  the  ad- 
jacent territories,  for  the  purpose  of  form- 
ing a  kingdom  to  be  conferred  on  his  youn- 
gest brother  Jerome.  This  young  person 
bore  a  gay  and  dissipated  character  ;  and, 
though  such  men  may  at  times  make  con- 
siderable sacrifices  for  the  indulgence  of 
transient  passion,  they  are  seldom  capable 
of  retaining  for  a  length  of  time  a  steady  af- 
fection for  an  object,  however  amiable.  Je- 
rome Buonaparte  had  married  an  American 
young  lady,  distinguished  for  her  beauty 
and  her  talents,  and  had  thus  lost  the  coun-  ! 
tenance  of  Napoleon,  who  maintained  the  I 
principle,  that,  segregated  as  his  kindred  | 
were  trom  the  nation  at  large  by  tlieir  con-  j 
nexion  with  him,  his  rank,  and  his  fortunes,  | 
they  were  not  entitled  to  enter  into  alliances  j 
according  to  the  dictates  of  their  own  feci-  | 
ings.but  were  bound  to  form  such  as  were  j 
most  suitable  to  his  policy.  Jerome  was, 
tempted  by  ambition  finally  to  acquiesce  in  j 
this  reasoning,  and  sacrificed  the  connexion  • 
which  his  he.irt  had  chosen,  to  become  | 
the  tool  of  his  brother's  ever-extending  i 
schemes  of  ambition.  Th'.- reward  was  the  i 
kiwadom  of  Wc-tphalia.  to  which  was  unit-  ! 
ed  Hesse-Cassel,  \vit!i  the  varion.>j  provin-  ; 
ces  which  Prussia  hail  possessed  in  I-  ranco-  j 
nia;  Westphalia  Proper, and  [.owerSaxouv  ;  ; 
as  also  the  territories  of  the    unfortunate  ■ 


Duke  of  Brunswick.  Security  could  be 
scarcely  supposed  to  attend  upon  a  sove- 
reignty, where  the  materials  were  acquired 
by  public  rapine,  and  the  crown  purchased 
by  domestic  infidelity. 

About  the  middle  of  November,  Mortier 
formally  re-occupied  Hanover  in  the  name 
of  the  Emperor,  and,  marching  upon  Ham- 
burgh, took  possession  of  that  ancient  free 
town,  so  long  the  emporium  of  commerce 
for  the  North  of  Europe.  Here,  as  formerly 
at  Leipsic,  the  strictest  search  was  made 
for  British  commodities  and  property,  which 
were  declared  the  lawful  subject  of  confis- 
cation. The  Moniteur  trumpeted  forth, 
that  these  rigorous  measures  were  accom- 
panied with  losses  to  British  commerce 
which  would  shake  the  credit  of  the  nation. 
This  was  not  true.  The  citizens  of  Ham- 
burgh had  long  foreseen  that  their  neutrali- 
ty would  be  no  protection,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  fraudful  assurances  of  the  French  en- 
voy, designed  to  lull  them  into  security,  the 
merchants  had  availed  themselves  of  the 
last  two  years  to  dispose  of  their  stock,  call 
in  their  capital,  and  wind  up  their  trade  ; 
so  that  the  rapacity  of  the  French  was  in  a 
great  measure  disappointed.  The  strict 
search  after  British  property,  and  the  con- 
fiscation which  was  denounced  against  it  at 
Hamburgh  and  elsewhere,  were  no  isolated 
acts  of  plunder  and  spoliation,  but  made 
parts  of  one  great  system  for  destroying  the 
commerce  of  England,  which  was  shortly 
after  laid  before  the  world  by  the  celebrat- 
ed decrees  of  Berlin. 

It  was  frequently  remarked  of  Buona- 
parte, that  he  studied  a  sort  of  theatrical 
effect  in  the  mode  of  issuing  his  decrees 
and  proclamations,  the  subject  matter  of 
which  formed  often  a  strange  contrast  with 
the  date  ;  the  latter,  perhaps,  being  at  the 
capital  of  some  subdued  monarch,  while  the 
matter  promulgated  respected  some  minute 
regulation  affecting  the  municipality  of  Pa- 
ris. But  there  was  no  such  discrepancy  in 
the  date  and  substance  of  the  Berlin  de- 
crees against  British  enterprise.  It  was 
when  Buonaparte  had  destroyed  the  natural 
bulwark  which  protected  the  independence 
of  the  north  of  Germany,  and  had  necessa- 
rily obtained  a  corresponding  power  on  the 
shores  of  the  Baltic,  that  he  seriously  under- 
took to  promulgate  his  sweeping  plan  of 
destroying  the  commerce  of  his  Island  foe. 
When  slight  inconveniences,  according 
to  Buonapr.rte's  expression,  put  an  end  to 
his  liopes  of  invading  Britain,  or  when,  as 
at  other  times  he  more  candidly  admitted, 
the  defeat  at  Trafalgar  induced  him  "to 
throw  helve  after  hatchet,"  and  resign  all 
iiope  of  attaining  any  success  by  means  of 
hi.s  navy,  he  became  desirous  of  sapping  and 
undermining  the  bulwark,  which  lie  found 
it  impossible  to  storm  ;  and,  by  directing 
his  efforts  to  the  destruction  of  British  com- 
merce, he  trusted  gradually  to  impair  the 
foundations  ofhernational  wealth  and  pros- 
perity. He  erred,  perhaps,  in  thinking, 
that,  even  if  his  object  could  have  been  ful- 
ly attained,  the  full  consequences  woahl 
have  followed  which  his  animosity  antici- 
pated.    Great    Britain's  prosperity   mainly 


446 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  Lin. 


rests  on  her  commerce,  but  her  existence 
as  a  nation  is  not  absolutely  dependent  up- 
on it ;  as  those  foreigners  are  apt  to  ima- 
gine, who  have  only  seen  the  numerous  ves- 
sels with  which  she  covers  the  ocean  and 
fills  foreign  ports,  but  have  never  witnessed 
the  extent  of  her  agricultural  and  domestic 
resources.  But,  entertaining  the  belief 
which  Napoleon  did,  in  regard  to  the  indis- 
pensable connexion  betwixt  British  com- 
merce and  British  power,  the  policy  of  his 
war  upon  the  former  cannot  be  denied.  It 
wras  that  of  the  Abyssinian  hunter,  who, 
dreading  to  front  the  elephant  in  his  fury, 
draws  his  sabre  along  the  animal's  heel- 
joint,  and  wails  until  the  exertions  of  the 
powerful  brute  burst  the  injured  sinews, 
and  he  sinks  prostrate  under  his  own  weight. 

The  celebrated  decrees  of  Berlin  appear- 
ed on  the  21st  November  ISOG,  interdicting 
all  commerce  betwixt  Great  Britain  and  the 
continent;  which  interdiction  was  declared 
a  fundamental  law  of  the  French  empire, 
until  the  English  should  consent  to  certain 
alterations  in  the  mode  of  conducting  hos- 
tilities by  sea,  which  should  render  her 
naval  superiority  less  useful  to  herself,  and 
less  detrimental  to  the  enemy.  This  meas- 
ure was  justified  upon  the  following 
grounds  : — That  England  had  either  intro- 
duced new  customs  into  her  maritime  code, 
or  revived  those  of  a  barbarous  age — that 
she  seized  on  merchant  vessels,  and  made 
their  crews  prisoners,  just  as  if  they  had 
been  found  on  board  ships  of  war — declar- 
ed harbours  blockaded  which  were  not  so  in 
reality — and  extended  the  evils  of  war  to 
the  peaceful  and  unarmed  citizen. 

This  induction  to  the  celebrated  project, 
afterwards  called  the  Continental  System 
of  the  Emperor,  was  false  in  the  original 
proposition,  and  sophistical  in  those  by 
which  it  was  supported.  It  was  positively 
false  that  Great  Britain  had  introduced  into 
her  maritime  law,  either  by  new  enactment, 
or  by  the  revival  of  obsolete  and  barbarous 
customs,  any  alteration  by  which  the  rights 
of  neutrals  were  infringed,  or  the  unarmed 
citizen  prejudiced,  more  than  necessarily 
arose  out  of  the  usual  customs  of  war.  The 
law  respecting  the  blockade  of  ports,  and 
the  capture  of  vessels  at  sea,  was  the  same 
on  which  every  nation  had  acted  for  three 
centuries  past,  France  herself  not  excepted. 
It  is  true,  that  the  maritime  code  seemed  at 
this  period  to  be  peculiarly  that  of  England, 
because  no  nation  save  herself  had  the 
means  of  enforcing  them  ;  but  she  did  not 
in  this  respect  possess  any  greater  advan- 
tage by  sea  than  Napoleon  enjoyed  by  land. 

The  reasoning  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon 
upon  the  inequality  and  injustice  of  the 
maritime  mode  of  exercising  war,  compared 
with  the  law  of  hostilities  by  land,  was  not 
more  accurate  than  his  allegation,  that  Brit- 
ain had  innovated  upon  the  former  for  the 
pur[)Ose  of  introducing  new,  or  reviving  old 
severities.  This  will  appear  plain  from  the 
following  considerations  . — 

At  an  early  period  of  society,  the  practice 
of  war  was  doubtless  the  same  by  land  or 
tea ;  and  the  savage  slaughtered  or  enslaved 
bw  enemy  whether  he  found  him  in  his  hut 


or  in  his  canoe.  But  when  centuries  of 
civilization  began  to  mitigate  the  horrors 
of  barbarous  warfare,  the  restrictive  rulea 
introduced  into  naval  hostilities  were  dif- 
ferent from  those  adopted  in  the  case  of  wwa 
by  land,  as  the  difference  of  the  services 
obviously  directed.  A  land  army  has  a  pre- 
cise object,  which  it  can  always  attain  if 
victorious.  If  a  general  conquer  a  town, 
he  can  garrison  it ;  he  can  levy  contribu- 
tions ;  nay,  he  may  declare  that  he  will  appro- 
priate it  to  himself  in  right  of  sovereignty. 
He  can  afford  to  spare  the  property  of  pri- 
vate individuals,  when  he  is  at  liberty  to 
seize,  if  he  is  so  minded,  upon  all  their  pub- 
lic rights,  and  new-mould  them  at  his  pleas- 
ure. The  seaman,  on  the  other  hand,  seizes 
on  the  merchant  vessel  and  its  cargo,  by 
the  same  right  of  superior  force,  in  virtue 
of  which  the  victor  by  land  has  seized  upon 
castles,  provinces,  and  on  the  very  haven, 
it  may  be,  which  the  vessel  belongs  to.  If 
the  maritime  conqueror  had  no  right  to  do 
this,  he  would  gain  nothing  by  his  superi- 
ority except  blows,  when  he  met  with  ves- 
sels of  force,  and  would  be  cut  off  from 
any  share  of  the  spoils  of  war,  which  form 
the  reward  of  victory.  The  innocent  and 
unarmed  citizen,  perhaps  the  neutral  stran- 
ger, suffers  in  both  cases  ;  bat  a  state  of  war 
is  of  course  a  state  of  violence,  and  its  evils, 
unhappily,  cannot  be  limited  to  those  who 
are  actually  eng^ed  in  hostilities.  If  the 
spirit  of  philanthropy  affected  in  the  perora- 
tion to  Buonaparte's  decrees  had  been  real, 
he  might  have  attained  his  pretended  pur- 
pose of  softening  the  woes  of  war,  by  pro- 
posing some  relaxation  of  the  rights  of  a 
conqueror  by  land,  in  exchange  for  restric- 
tions to  be  introduced  into  the  practice  of 
hostilities  by  sea.  Instead  of  doing  so,  he 
under  the  pretext  of  exercising  the  right  of 
reprisals,  introduced  the  following  decrees, 
unheard  of  hitherto  among  belligerent 
powers,  and  tending  greatly  to  augment  the 
general  distress,  which  must,  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, attend  a  state  of  war. 

I.  The  British  isles  were  declared  in  a 
state  of  blockade.  II.  All  commerce  and 
correspondence  with  England  was  forbid- 
den. All  English  letters  were  to  be  seized 
in  the  post-houses.  III.  Every  English- 
man, of  whatever  rank  or  quality,  found  in 
France,  or  the  countries  allied  with  her, 
was  declared  a  prisoner  of  war.  IV.  All 
merchandise,  or  property  of  any  kind,  be- 
longing to  English  subjects,  was  declared 
lawful  prize.  V".  .\H  articles  of  English 
manufacture,  and  articles  produced  in  her 
colonics,  were  in  like  manner  declared  con- 
traband and  lawful  prize.  VI.  Half  of  the 
produce  of  the  above  confiscations  was  to  be 
employed  in  tlie  relief  of  those  merchants, 
whose  vessels  had  been  captured  by  the 
English  cruisers.  VII.  All  vessels  coming 
from  England,  or  the  English  colonies,  were 
to  be  refused  admission  into  any  harbour 
Four  additional  articles  provided  the  mode 
of  promulgating  and  enforcing  the  decree, 
and  directed  that  it  should  be  communicat- 
ed to  the  allies  of  France.  This  was  the 
first  link  of  a  long  chain  of  arbitrary  decree* 
and  ordinances,  by  which  Napoleon,  aiming 


Chap.  LIII] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


447 


at  the  destruction  of  British  finance,  inter- 
rupted the  whole  commerce  of  Europe,  and 
destroyed  for  a  season,  and  as  far  as  lay  in 
his  power,  that  connexion  between  distant 
nations  which  unites  them  to  each  other  by 
tlie  most  natural  and  advantageous  means, 
the  supply  of  the  wants  of  the  one  country  by 
the  superfluous  produce  of  the  other.  The 
extent  of  public  inconvenience  and  distress 
which  was  occasioned  by  the  sudden  sup- 
pression of  commerciail  communication 
with  England,  may  be  judged  of  by  reflect- 
ing, how  many  of  the  most  ordinary  arti- 
cles of  consumption  are  brought  from  for- 
eign countries, — in  how  many  instances  the 
use  of  these  articles  has  brought  them  into 
the  list  of  necessaries, — and  how,  before  an 
ordinary  mechanic  or  peasant  sits  down  to 
breakfast,  distant  climes  must  be  taxed  to 
raise  the  coff"ee  and  sugar  which  he  con- 
aames. 

The  painful  embarrassment  of  those  de- 
prived of  their  habitual  comforts,  was  yet 
exceeded  by  the  clamour  and  despair  of  the 
whole  commercial  world  on  the  Continent, 
who  were  thus,  under  pretext  of  relieving 
them  from  the  vexation  of  the  English  crui- 
sers, threatened  with  a  total  abrogation  of 
their  profession.  Hamburgh,  Bourdeaux, 
Nantes,  and  other  continental  towns,  soli- 
cited, by  petitions  and  deputations,  some 
relaxation  of  decrees  which  inferred  their 
general  ruin.  They  pleaded  the  prospect 
of  universal  bankruptcy,  which  this  prohib- 
itory system  must  occasion.  "  Let  it  be 
so,"  answered  the  Emperor ;  "  the  more 
insolvency  on  the  continent,  the  great- 
er will  be  the  distress  of  the  merchants 
in  London.  The  fewer  traders  in  Ham- 
burgh, the  less  will  be  the  temptation  to 
carry  on  commerce  with  England.  Britain 
must  be  humbied,  were  it  at  the  expense 
of  throwing  civilization  back  for  centuries, 
and  returning  to  the  original  mode  of  trading 
by  barter." 

But  great  as  was  Buonaparte's  power,  he 
had  overrated  it  in  supposing,  that,  by  a 
mere  expression  of  his  will,  he  could  put  an 
end  to  an  intercourse,  in  the  existence  of 
which  the  whole  world  possessed  an  inter- 
eet.  The  attempt  to  annihilate  commerce, 
resembled  that  of  a  child  who  tries  to  stop 
with  his  hand  the  stream  of  an  artificial 
fountain,  which  escapes  in  a  hundred  par- 
tial jets  from  under  his  palm  and  between 
his  hngers.  The  Genius  of  Commerce,  like 
a  second  Proteus,  assumed  every  variety  of 
shape,  in  order  to  elude  the  imperial  inter- 
diction, and    all    manner  of  evasions  w,i3 

ractised  for  that  purpose.  False  papers, 
false  certificates,  false  bills  of  lading,  were 
devised,  and  these  frauds  were  overlooked 
in  the  seaports,  by  the  very  agents  of  the 
police,  and  custom-house  officers,  to  whom 
the  execution  of  the  decrees  was  commit- 
ted. Douaniers,  magistrates,  generals,  and 
prefects,  nay,  some  of  the  kindred  princes 
of  the  House  of  Xapoleon,  were  well  pleas- 
ed to  listen  to  the  small  still  voice  of  their 
interest,  rather  than  to  his  authoritative 
commands  ;  and  the  British  commerce, 
though  charged  with  heavy  expenses,  con- 
tinued to  flourish  in  spito  of  the  continen- 


tal system.  The  new,  and  still  more  vio- 
lent measures,  which  Napoleon  had  re 
course  to  for  enforcing  his  prohibitions, 
will  require  our  notice  hereafter.  Mean- 
time, it  is  enough  to  say,  that  su»h  acts  of 
increasing  severity  had  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  rendering  his  person  and  power 
more  and  more  unpopular ;  so  that,  while 
he  was  sacrificing  the  interests  and  the  com- 
forts of  the  nations  under  his  authority  to 
his  hope  of  destroying  England,  he  was  in 
fact  digging  a  mine  under  his  own  feel, 
which  exploded  to  his  destruction  long  be- 
fore the  security  of  England  was  materially 
afiected. 

Napoleon  had  foreseen,  that,  in  order  to 
enforce  the  decrees  by  which,  without  pos- 
session of  any  naval  power,  he  proposed  to 
annihilate  the  naval  supremacy  of  England, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  augment  to  a 
great  extent  the  immense  superiority  of 
land  forces  which  France  already  possess- 
ed. It  was  necessary,  he  was  aware,  that 
to  enable  him  to  maintain  the  prohibitions 
which  he  had  imposed  upon  general  com- 
merce, as  well  as  to  prosecute  the  struggle 
in  which  he  was  about  to  be  engaged  with 
Russia,  a  large  draught  should  be  made  on 
the  population  of  France.  He  had,  ac- 
cordingly, by  a  requisition  addressed  to 
the  Senate,  dated  from  Bamberg,  7th  of  Oc- 
tober, required  a  second  anticipation  of  the 
conscription  of  1807,  amounting  to  a  levy 
of  eighty  tliousand  men. 

The  measure  was  supported  in  the  Sen- 
ate by  the  oratory  of  Regnault  de  St.  Jean 
d'Angely,  an  ancient  Rupublican.  This 
friend  of  freedom  saw  nothing  inconsistent 
in  advocating  a  measure,  which  the  absolute 
monarch  recommended  as  the  necessary 
step  to  a  general  peace.  The  conscripts 
who  had  first  marched  had  secured  victory  ; 
those  who  were  now  to  be  put  into  motion 
were  to  realize  the  prospect  of  peace,  the 
principle  object  of  their  brethren's  success. 
The  obsequious  Senate  readily  admitted 
these  arguments,  as  they  would  have  done 
any  which  had  been  urged  in  support  of  a 
request  which  they  dared  not  deny.  The 
sole  purpose  of  Regnault's  eloquence,  was 
to  express  in  tlecent  amplification  the  sim- 
ple phrase,  "  Napoleon  so  wills  it." 

.'V  deputation  of  the  Senate,  carrying  to 
Napoleon  in  person  their  warm  acquiescence 
in  the  proposed  measure,  received  in  guer- 
don the  honourable  task  of  conveying  to 
Paris  the  spoils  of  Potsdam  and  Berlin, 
with  three  hundred  and  forty-six  stand  of 
colours,  the  trophies  of  the  war  against 
Prussia — with  the  task  of  announcing  the 
celebrated  decrees,  by  vvhich  the  ge.ieral 
commerco  of  Europe  and  of  France  itsv'f 
was  annihilated,  to  secure  it  frpm  the  af- 
gressioas  of  the  British  naval  force.  Tiw 
military  trophies  were  received — the  de- 
crees wore  recorded  ;  and  no  one  dared  un- 
dertake the  delicate  task  of  balancing  th« 
victories  of  the  Emperor  against  the  advan- 
tage which  his  dominions  were  likely  to  de- 
rive from  them. 

In  the  mcanwliile,  the  unfortunate  Fred- 
erick William,  whose  possession  of  bia 
late   flourishing  kingdom   was   reduced   t<» 


446 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


such  territories  as  Prussia  held  beyond  the 
Oder,  sent  an  embassy  to  Berlin,  for  the 
purpose  of  learning  upon  what  terms  he 
might  be  yet  admitted  to  treat  for  peace 
with  the,.victor,  who  had  hold  of  his  cap- 
ital and  the  greater  part  of  his  domin- 
ions. The  Marquis  Lucchesini  was  em- 
ployed on  this  mission,  a  subtle  Italian, 
who,  being  employed  in  negotiations  at 
Paris,  had  been  accustomed  to  treat  with 
France  on  a  footing  of  equality.  But  these 
times  were  passed  since  the  battle  of  Jena  ; 
and  the  only  terms  to  which  Prussia  could 
be  now  admitted,  were  to  be  so  dearly  pur- 


chased, that  even  a  mere  temporary  armis- 
tice was  to  cost  the  surrender  of  Graudentz 
Danttick,  Colberg, — in  short,  all  the  fortres- 
ses yet  remaining  to  Prussia,  and  still  in  a 
state  of  defence.  As  this  would  have  been 
placing  himself  entirely  at  the  mercy  of 
Buonaparte,  and  in  as  bad  circumstances 
as  he  could  be  reduced  to  even  by  the  most 
unsuccessful  military  operations,  the  King 
refused  to  acquiesce  in  such  severe  terms, 
and  determined  to  repose  his  fate  in  the 
chance  of  war,  and  in  the  support  of  the 
au.xiliary  army  of  Russia,  which  was  now 
hastily  advancing  to  his  assistance. 


CHAP.   I.IV. 

Retrospect  of  the  Partition  of  Poland. —  Napoleon  receives  addresses  from  Poland, 
which  he  evades — He  advances  into  Poland,  Bcnnigsen  retreating  before  him. — 
Character  of  the  Russian  Soldiery. —  The  Cossacks. — Engagement  at  Pultusk,  on 
2Gth  November,  terminating  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  French. — Bennigsen  continue* 
his  retreat. —  The  French  go  into  ivinter  quarters. — Bennigsen  appointed  Commander- 
in-chief  in  the  place  of  Kaminskoy,  xoho  shows  symptoms  of  insanity. — He  resumes 
offensive  operations. — Battle  of  Eylau,  fought  on  Sth  February  1807. — Claimed  as  a 
victory  by  both  parties. —  The  loss  on  both  sides  amounts  to  .50 .(.KX)  men  killed,  tha 
greater  part  Frenchmen. — Bennigsen  retreats  upon  Konigsbcrg. — Napoleon  offer* 
favourable  terms  for  aji  Armistice  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  who  refuses  to  treat,  save 
for  a  general  Peace. — Napoleon  falh  back  to  the  line  of  the  Vistula. — Dantzic  is  be- 
»ieged,  and  surrenders. — Russian  army  is  poorly  recruited — the  French  powerfully. — 
Actio7is  during  the  Summer. — Battle  of  Heilsberg,  and  retreat  of  the  Kussiatis. — 
Battle  of  Friedland  on  \3th  June,  and  defeat  of  the  Russians,  after  a  hard  fought  day. 
— An  Armistice  takes  place  on  the  23d. 


Napoleon  was  politically  justified  in  the 
harsh  terms  which  he  was  desirous  to  im- 
pose on  Prussia,  by  having  now  brought  his 
victorious  armies  to  the  neighbourhood  of 
Poland,  in  which  he  had  a  good  right  to 
conceive  himself  sure  to  find  numerous  fol- 
lowers and  a  friendly  reception. 

The  partition  of  this  fine  kingdom  by  its 
powerful  neighbours,  Russia,  Austria,  and 
Prussia,  was  tlio  first  open  and  audacious 
transgression  of  the  law  of  nations,  which 
disgraced  the  annals  of  civilized  Europe. 
It  v/as  e.vecuted  by  a  combination  of  three 
of  the  most  powerful  states  of  Europe 
against  one  too  unhappy  in  the  nature  of 
its  constitution,  and  too  much  divided  by 
factions,  to  offer  any  effectual  resistance. 
The  kingdom  subjected  to  this  aggression 
nad  appealed  in  vain  to  the  code  of  nations 
for  protection  against  an  outrage,  to  which, 
after  a  desultory  and  uncombined,  and 
therefore  a  vain  defence,  she  saw  herself 
under  a  necessity  of  submitting.  The 
Poles  retained,  too,  a  secret  sense  of  their 
fruitless  attempt  to  recover  freedom  in  1791, 
and  an  animated  recollection  of  the  violence 
by  which  it  had  been  suppressed  by  the 
Riissiaii  .ii''nis.  The^y  waited  witli  hope  and 
exultation  the  approach  of  the  French  ar- 
mies ;  and  candour  must  allow,  that,  un- 
lawfully subjected  as  they  had  been  to  a 
foreign  yoke,  they  had  a  right  to  avail  them- 
selves of  the  assistance,  not  only  of  Napo- 
leon, but  of  Mahomet,  or  of  Satan  himself, 
had  he  proposed  to  aid  them  in  regaining 
the  independence  of  which  they  had  been 
cppressively  and  unjustly  deprived. 

This  feeling  was  general  among  the  mid- 


dling classes  of  the  Polish  arihtocracy.  who 
recollected  with  mortified  pride  the  dim- 
inution of  their  independent  privileges,  tlie 
abrogation  of  tlieir  iJiels,  and  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  Liberum  Veto,  by  which  a  pri- 
vate gentleman  might  render  null  the  de- 
cision of  a  whole  assembly,  unless  unanim- 
ity should  be  attained,  by  putting  the  dis- 
sentient to  death  upon  the  spot."*     But  the 


*  Most  readers  must  bo  so  far  actjuaiiited  with, 
the  ancient  form  of  Polish  Diets  as  to  know,  that 
their  resolutions  were  not  legally  valid  if  there 
was  one  dissenting  voice,  and  that  in  many  cases 
the  most  violent  moans  wore  resorted  to,  to  obtain 
unanimity.  The  following  instance  was  relalod 
to  our  informer,  a  person  of  high  rank.  On  soma 
occasion,  a  provincial  Diet  was  convened  for  the 
purpose  of  passing  a  resolution  which  was  gener- 
ally acceptable,  but  to  which  it  was  apprehended 
one  noble  of  the  district  would  oppose  his  veto. 
To  escape  this  interruption,  it  was  generally  re- 
solved to  meet  exactly  at  the  hour  of  summons, 
to  proceed  to  business  upon  the  instant,  and  thu» 
to  elude  the  anticipated  attempt  of  the  individual 
to  defeat  the  purpose  of  their  meeting.  They  ac- 
cordingly met  at  the  hour,  with  most  accurate 
precision,  and  shut  and  bolted  the  doors  of  their 
place  of  meeting.  But  the  dissentient  arrived  a 
few  minutes  afterwards,  and  entrance  being  re- 
fused, under  the  excuse  that  the  Diet  was  already 
constituted,  he  climbed  upon  the  roof  of  the  hall, 
and,  it  being  summer  time  when  no  fires  were 
lighted,  descended  through  tlie  vent  into  the  stove 
by  which,  in  winter,  the  apartment  was  heated. 
Here  he  lay  perdu,  until  the  vote  was  called, 
when,  just  as  it  was  about  to  be  recorded  as  unan- 
imous in  favour  of  the  proposed  measure,  ha 
thrust  his  head  init  of  the  stove,  like  a  turtle  pro- 
truding his  neck  from  his  shell,  and  pronounced 
the  fatal  veto.  Unfortunately  for  himself,  in- 
stead of  instantly  withdrawing  his  head,  he  look- 
ed round  for  an  instutit  with  exultation,  to  ro- 


Chap.  LIV] 


LIFE  OF  INAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


449 


higher  order  of  nobility,  gratified  by  the 
rauli  they  held,  and  the  pleasures  they  en- 
joyed at  the  courts  of  Berlin,  \'ienna,  and 
especially  St.  Petersburgli,  preferred  in 
general  the  peaceful  enjoyment  of  their 
immense  estates  to  the  privileges  of  a 
stormy  independence,  which  raised  the 
most  insignificant  of  llie  numerous  aristoc- 
racy to  a  rank  and  importance  nearly  re- 
sembling their  own.  They  might,  too, 
with  some  justice,  distrust  the  views  of 
.\ap6leon,  though  recommended  by  the 
most  specious  promises.  The  donunion 
of  Russia  in  particular,  from  similarity  of 
manners,  and  the  particular  attention  paid 
to  their  persons  and  interests,  was  not  so 
unpopular  among  the  higher  branches  of 
the  aristocracy  as  might  have  been  expect- 
ed, from  the  unjust  and  arbitrary  mode  in 
whicii  she  had  combined  to  appropriate  so 
large  a  part  of  their  once  independent 
kingdom.  These  did  not,  therefore,  so 
generally  embrace  the  side  of  France  as 
the  minor  nobles  or  gentry  had  done.  As 
for  the  ordinary  mass  of  the  population, 
being  aJtr.ost  all  in  the  estate  of  serfage,  or 
villanage,  which  had  been  general  over 
Europe  during  the  prevalence  of  the  feudal 
system,  they  followed  their  respective 
lords,  without  pretending  to  entertain  any 
opinion  of  their  own. 

While  Russia  was  marching  her  armies 
hastily  forward,  not  only  to  support,  or 
rather  raise  up  once  more,  her  unfoi-tunate 
ally  the  King  of  Prussia,  but  to  suppress 
any  ebullition  of  popular  spirit  in  Poland, 
Buonaparte  received  addresses  from  that 
country,  which  endeavoured  to  prevail  on 
him  to  aid  them  in  their  views  of  regaining 
their  independence.  Their  application 
was  of  a  nature  to  embarrass  him  consider- 
ably. To  have  declared  himself  the  patron 
of  Polish  independence,  might  have,  in- 
deed, brought  large  forces  to  his  standard, 
— might  have  consummated  the  disasters 
of  Prussia,  and  greatly  embarrassed  even 
Russia  herself;  and  so  far  policy  recom- 
mended to  Napoleon  to  encourage  their 
hopes  of  her  restored  independence.  But 
Austria  had  been  a  large  sharer  in  the  va- 
rious partitions  of  Poland,  and  Austria, 
humbled  as  she  had  been,  was  still  a  power- 
ful state,  whose  enmity  might  have  proved 
formid.ible,  if,  by  bereaving  her  of  her 
Polish  dominions,  or  encouraging  her  sub- 
jects to   rebel,   Buonaparte   had   provoked 


mark  aiiJ  enjoy  tlio  confusion  which  his  sudden 
appearance  and  interruption  had  excited  in  the 
uasembly.  One  of  the  nobles,  who  stood  hy,  un- 
sheathed his  sabre,  and  severed  at  one  blow  the 
head  of  the  dissentient  from  his  body.  Our  noblo 
in'ormer,  expressing  some  doubt  of  a  story  so  ex- 
traordinary, was  referred  for  its  contirrnation  to 
Prince  Sobiesky,  afterwards  King  of  PuUiinl,  who 
not  only  bore  testimony  to  tlio  strange  scene,  as 
what  he  had  bmself  witnessed,  but  declared  that 
the  head  of  the  Dietin  rolled  over  on  his  own  fool, 
almost  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  word  i-eta  uttered. 
Buch  a  constitution  requited  much  amelinnt  ion  ;  | 
but  that  formed  no  opolojy  for  the  neighbouring 
■tates,  who  dismembereil  and  appropriutod  to 
themselves  an  independent  kingdom,  with  the 
faults  or  advantages  of  whose  govcrruncnt  they 
bod  not  the  slightest  title  to  interfere 


I  her  to  hostilities,  at  the  time  when  he  him- 
self and  the  best  part  of  his  forces  were  en- 
I  gaged  in  the  Xorth  of  Europe.  The  same 
I  attempt  wouM  have  given  a  very  different 
character  to  the  war,  which  Russia  at  pres- 
ent waged  only  in  the  capacity  of  the  aux- 
iliary of  Prussia.  The  safety  and  integrity 
of  the  Russian  empire,  south  of  the  Volga, 
depends  almost  entirely  upon  the  preser- 
vation of  those  territories  which  she  has 
acquired  in  Poland  ;  and,  if  she  had  en- 
gaged in  the  war  as  a  principal,  Buona- 
parte was  scarcely  yet  prepared  to  enter  up- 
on a  contest  with  the  immense  power  of 
that  empire,  which  must  be  waged  upon 
the  very  frontier  of  the  enemy,  and  ^s  near 
to  their  resources  as  he  was  distant  from 
his  own.  It  might  have  been  difficult,  al- 
so, to  have  stated  any  consistent  grounds, 
why  he,  who  had  carved  out  so  m?ny  new 
sovereignties  in  Europe  with  the  point  of 
his  sword,  should  reprobate  the  principal 
of  the  partition  of  Poland.  Influenced  by 
these  motives,  the  modern  setter-up  and 
puller-down  of  kings  abstained  from  re-es- 
tablishing the  only  monarchy  in  Europe, 
which  he  might  have  new-modelled  to  hia 
mind,  in  the  character  not  of  a  conqueror, 
but  a  liberator. 

While  Napoleon  declined  making  any 
precise  declaration,  or  binding  himself  by 
any  express  stipulations  to  the  Polish  dele- 
gates, the  language  he  used  to  them  waa 
cautiously  worded,  so  as  to  keep  up  their 
zeal  and  animate  their  exertions.  Dom- 
browski,  a  Polish  exile  in  the  French  army, 
was  employed  to  raise  men  for  Napoleon's 
service,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  those  who 
entered,  as  well  as  the  expectations  of  the 
kingdom  at  large,  were  excited  by  such  or- 
acular passages  as  the  following,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  36th  bulletin  : — "  Is  the  throne 
of  Poland  to  be  re-established,  and  will  that 
great  nation  regain  her  existence  and  inde- 
pendence ?  Will  she  be  recalled  to  life,  as 
if  summoned  to  arise  from  the  tomb  7 — 
God  only,  the  great  disposer  of  events,  can 
be  the  arbiter  of  this  great  political  prob- 
lem." 

The  continuance  of  war  was  now  to  be 
determined  upon  ;  a  war  to  be  waged  with 
circumstances  of  more  than  usual  horror, 
as  it  involved  the  sufferings  of  a  winter- 
campaign  in  the  northern  latitudes.  The 
French,  having  completely  conquered  the 
Prussian  estates  to  the  east  of  the  Oder,  had 
formed  the  sieges  of  Great  Glogau,  of  Bres- 
lau,  and  of  Graudentz,  and  were  at  the  same 
time  pushing  westward  to  occupy  Poland. 
The  Russian  general,  Bennigsen,  had  on 
his  side  pressed  forward  for  the  purpose  of 
assisting  the  Prussians,  and  had  occupied 
Warsaw.  But  finding  that  their  unfortunate 
allies  had  scarcely  the  remnant  of  an  army 
in  the  field,  the  Russian  general  retreated 
after  some  skirmishes,  and  recrossed  the 
Vistula,  while  the  capital  of  Poland,  thus 
evacuated,  was  entered  on  the  28th  Novem- 
ber by  Murat,  at  the  head  of  the  French 
van-guard. 

About  the  23th,  Napoleon,  leaving  Ber- 
lin, had  established  himself  at  Posen,  a 
centrical   town  of  Poland,  which  country 


450 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


began  to  manifest  an  agitation,  partly  the 
consequence  of  French  intrigues,  partly 
arising  from  the  animating  prospect  of  re- 
stored independence.  The  Poles  resumed 
in  many  instances  their  ancient  national 
dress  and  manners,  and  sent  deputies  to 
urge  the  decision  of  Buonaparte  in  their  fa- 
vour. The  language  in  which  they  entreat- 
ed his  interposition,  resembled  that  of  Ori- 
ental idolatry.  "The  Polish  nation,"' said 
Count  Radyiminski,  the  Palatine  of  Gnes- 
na,  "  presents  itself  before  your  Majesty, 
groaning  still  under  the  yoke  of  German  na- 
tions, and  salutes  with  the  purest  joy  the 
regenerator  of  their  dear  country,  the  legis- 
lator of  the  universe.  Full  of  submission 
to  your  will,  they  adore  you,  and  repose  on 
you  with  confidence  all  their  hopes,  as  up- 
on him  who  has  the  power  of  raising  em- 
pires and  destroying  them,  and  of  humbling 
the  proud."  The  address  of  the  President 
of  the  Judicial  Council-Chamber  of  the 
Regency  of  Poland,  was  not  less  energetic. 
"  Already,"  he  said,  "  we  see  our  dear 
country  saved  ;  for  in  your  person  we  adore 
the  most  just  and  the  most  profound  Solon. 
We  commit  our  fate  and  our  hopes  into 
your  hands,  and  we  impiore  the  mighty 
protection  of  the  most  august  Caesar." 

Not  even  these  eastern  hyperboles  could 
extort  anything  from  Buonaparte  more  dis- 
tinctly indicative  of  his  intentions,  than  the 
obscure  hints  we  have  already  mentioned-. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Warsaw  was  put  into 
a  state  of  defence,  and  the  auxiliary  forces 
of  Saxony  and  the  new  confederates  of  the 
Rhine  were  brought  up  by  forced  marches, 
while  strong  reinforcements  from  France 
repaired  the  losses  of  the  early  part  of  the 
campaign. 

The  French  army  at  length  advanced  in 
full  force,  and  crossed  successively  the 
rivers  Vistula  and  Bug,  forcing  a  passage 
wherever  it  was  disputed.  Biit  it  was  not 
the  object  of  Bennigsen  to  give  battle  to 
forces  superior  to  his  own,  and  he  there- 
fore retreated  behind  the  Wkra,  and  was 
joined  by  the  large  bodies  of  troops  com- 
manded by  Generals  Bushowden  and  Ka- 
minskoy.  The  latter  took  the  general  com- 
mand. He  was  a  contemporary  of  Su- 
warrow,  and  esteemed  an  excellent  officer, 
but  more  skilled  in  the  theory  than  the 
practice  of  war.  "  Kaminskoy,"  said  Su- 
warrow,  "  knows  war,  but  war  does  not 
know  him — I  do  not  know  war,  but  war 
knows  me."  It  appears  also,  that  during 
this  campaign  Kaminskoy  was  aiBicted  with 
mental  alienation. 

On  the  23d  December  Napoleon  arrived 
in  person  upon  the  Wkra,  and  ordered  the 
advance  of  his  army  in  three  divisions. 
Kaminskoy,  when  he  saw  the  passage  of 
this  river  forced,  determined  to  retreat  be- 
hind the  Niemen,  and  sent  orders  to  his 
lieutenants  accordingly.  Bennigsen,  there- 
fore, fell  back  upon  Pultusk,  and  Prince 
Galitzin  upon  Golymin,  both  pursued  by 
large  divisions  of  the  French  army.  The 
Russian  Generals  Buxhowden  and  D'Anrep 
also  Tetreated  in  different  directions,  and 
apparently  without  maintainirtg  asufficient- 
y  accurate  communication  either  with  Ben- 


nigsen, or  with  Galitzin.  In  their  retro 
grade  movements  the  Russians  sustained 
some  loss,  which  the  bulletins  magnified  to 
such  an  extent,  as  to  represent  their  army 
as  entirely  disorganized,  their  columns  wan- 
dering at  hazard  in  unimaginable  disorder, 
and  their  safety  only  caused  by  the  short- 
ness of  the  days,  the  difficulties  of  a  coun- 
try covered  with  woods  and  intersected 
with  ravines,  and  a  thaw  which  had  filled 
the  roads  with  mud  to  the  depth  of  five  feet. 
It  was,  therefore,  predicted,  that  although 
the  enemy  might  possibly  escape  from  the 
position  in  which  he  had  placed  himself,  it 
must  necessarily  be  effected  at  the  certain 
loss  of  his  artillery,  his  carriages,  and  his 
baggage. 

These  were  exaggerations  calculated  for 
the  meridian  of  Paris.  Napoleon  was  him- 
self sensible,  that  he  was  approaching  a 
conflict  of  a  different  kind  from  that  which 
he  had  maintained  with  Austria,  and  more 
lately  against  Prussia.  The  common  sol- 
dier in  both  those  services  was  too  much 
levelled  into  a  mere  moving  piece  of  ma- 
chinery, the  hundred-thousandth  part  of  the 
great  machine  called  an  army,  to  have  any 
confidence  in  himself,  or  zeaJ  beyond  the 
mere  discharge  of  the  task  intrusted  to  him 
according  to  the  word  of  command.  These 
troops,  however  highly  disciplined,  wanted 
that  powerful  and  individual  feeling,  which 
in  armies  possessing  a  strong  national  char- 
acter, (by  which  the  Russians  are  peculiar- 
ly distinguished,)  induces  the  soldier  to  re- 
sist to  the  last  moment,  even  when  resist- 
ance can  only  assure  him  of  revenge.  They 
were  still  the  same  Russians,  of  whom 
Frederick  the  Great  said,  "  that  he  could 
kill,  but  could  not  defeat  vhem  ;" — they 
were  also  strong  of  constitution,  and  inured 
to  the  iron  climate  in  which  Frenchmen 
were  now  making  war  for  the  first  time  ;— 
they  were  accustomed  from  their  earliest 
life  to  spare  nourishment  and  hardship  ; — in 
a  word,  they  formed  then,  as  they  do  now, 
the  sole  instance  in  Europe  of  an  army,  the 
privates  of  which  are  semi-barbarians,  with 
the  passions,  courage,  love  of  war,  and  devo- 
tion to  their  country,  which  is  found  in  the 
earlier  periods  of  society,  while  the  educa- 
tion received  by  their  superior  officers  pla- 
ces them  on  a  level  with  those  of  any  other 
nation.  TJhat  of  the  inferior  regimental  of- 
ficers is  too  much  neglected  ;  but  they  are 
naturally  brave,  kind  to  the  common  soldier, 
and  united  among  themselves- like  a  family 
of  brothers, — attributes  which  go  far  to  com- 
pensate the  want  of  information.  Among 
the  higher  officers,  are  some  of  the  best-in- 
formed men  in  Europe. 

The  Russian  army  was  at  this  period  defi- 
cient in  its  military  staff,  and  thence  im- 
perfect in  the  execution  of  combined  move 
ments  ;  and  their  generals  were  better  ac- 
customed to  lead  an  army  in  the  day  of  actu- 
al battle,  than  to  prepare  for  victory  by  a 
skilful  combination  of  previous  manceuvres. 
But  this  disadvantage  was  balanced  by  their 
zealous  and  unhesitating  devotion  to  their 
Emperor  and  their  country.  There  scarce- 
ly existed  a  Russian,  even  of  the  lowest 
rank,  within  the  influence  of  bribery  ;  and 


Chap.  LI  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


451 


an  officer,  like  the  Prussian  commandant  of  | 
Hanrjelen,  who  began  to  speculate  upon  re-  ' 
laining  his  rank  in  another  service,  when  ' 
surrendering  the  charge  intrusted  to  hira  by  ; 
his  sovereign,  would  have  been  accounted  j 
in  Russia  a  prodigy  of  unexampled  villainy.  | 
In  the  mode  of  disciplining  their  forces,  the  I 
Russians  proceeded  on  the  system  most  ap- 
proved in  Europe.     Their  infantry  was  con- 1 
fessedly  excellent,  composed  of  men  in  the  i 
prime  of  life,  and  carefully  selected  as  best  | 
qualified  for  military  service.     Tlieir  artil-  j 
lery  was  of  the  first  description,  so  far  as 
the  men,  guns,  carriages,  and  appointments 
were  concerned  ;  but  the  rank  of  General  of 
Artillery  had  not  the  predominant  weight  in 
the  Russian  army,  which  ought  to  be  pos- 
sessed by  those  particularly  dedicated  to  tlie 
direction  of  that  arm,  by  which,  according 
to  Napoleon,  modern  battles  must  be  usual- 
ly decided.     The  direction   of  their   guns 
was  too  often  intrusted  to  general  officers  of 
the   line.     The  service    of  cavalry  is  less 
natural  to  the  Russian  than  that  of  the  infan- 
try, but  their  horse  regiments  are  neverthe- 
less excellently  trained,  and  have  uniformly 
behaved  well. 

But  the  Cossacks  are  a  species  of  force 
belonging  to  Russia  exclusively  ;  and  al- 
though subsequent  events  have  probably 
rendered  every  reader  in  some  degree  ac- 
quainted with  their  natural  character,  they 
make  too  conspicuous  a  figure  in  the  histo- 
ry of  Napoleon,  to  be  passed  over  without  a 
Mief  description  here. 

The  natives  on  the  banks  of  the  Don  and 
the  Volga,  hold  their  lands  by  military  ser- 
vice, and  enjoy  certain  immunities  and  pre- 
scriptions, in  consequence  of  which  each 
individual  is  obliged  to  serve  four  years  in 
the  Russian  armies.  They  are  trained  from 
early  childhood  to  the  use  of  the  lance  and 
sword,  and  familiarized  to  the  management 
of  a  horse  peculiar  to  the  countrj- ;  far  from 
handsome  ia  appearance,  but  tractable,  har- 
dy, swift,  and  sure-footed,  beyond  any  breed 
perhaps  in  the  world.  At  home,  and  with 
his  family  and  children,  the  Cossack  is  kind, 
gentle,  generous,  and  simple  ;  but  when  in 
arms,  and  in  a  foreign  country,  he  resumes 
the  predatory,  and  sometimes  the  ferocious 
habits  of  his  ancestors,  the  roving  Scythi- 
ans. As  the  Cossacks  receive  no  pay,  plun- 
der is  generally  their  object ;  and  as  prison- 
ers were  esteemed  a  useless  encumbrance, 
they  granted  no  quarter,  until  .\lexander 
promised  a  ducat  for  every  Frenchman 
whom  they  brought  in  alive.  In  the  actual 
field  of  battle,  their  mode  of  attack  is  sin- 
gular. Instead  of  acting  in  line,  a  body  of 
Cossacks  about  to  charge,  disperse  at  the 
word  of  command,  very  much  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  fan  suddenly  flung  open,  and  join- 
ing in  a  loud  yell,  or  ftourra,  rush,  each  act- 
ing individually,  upon  the  object  of  attack, 
whether  infantry,  cavalry,  or  artillery,  to 
all  of  which  they  have  been  in  this  wild 
way  of  fighting  formidable  assailants.  But 
it  is  as  light  cavalry  that  the  Cossacks  are 
perhaps  unrivalled. '  They  and  their  horses 
have  been  known  to  march  one  hundred 
miles  in  twenty-four  hours  without  halting. 
They   plunge   into    woods,    swim    rivers, 


thread  passes,  cross  deep  morasses,  and 
penetrate  through  deserts  of  snow,  without 
undergoing  material  loss,  or  suffering  from 
fatigue.  No  Russian  army,  with  a  large  body 
of  Cossacks  in  front,  can  be  liable  to  sur- 
prise ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  can  an  enemy 
surrounded  by  them  ever  be  confident 
against  it.  In  covering  the  retreat  of  their 
own  army,  their  velocity,  activity,  and 
courage,  render  pursuit  by  the  enemy's  cav- 
alry peculiarly  dangerous  ;  and  in  pursuing 
a  flying  enemy,  these  qualities  are  still  more 
redoubtable.  In  the  campaign  of  1806-7, 
the  Cossacks  took  the  field  in  great  num- 
bers, under  their  celebrated  Hettman,  or 
Attaman,  Platow,  who,  himself  a  Cossack, 
knew  their  peculiar  capacity  for  warfare, 
and  raised  their  fame  to  a  pitch  which  it 
had  not  attained  in  former  European  wars. 
The  Russians  had  also  in  their  service 
Tartar  tribes,  who  in  irregularity  resem- 
bled the  Cossacks,  but  were  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  them  in  discipline  or  courage, 
being,  in  truth,  little  better  than  hordes  of 
roving  savages. 

It  remains  only  to  be  mentioned,  that  at 
this  time  the  Russian  commissariat  was 
very  indifferent,  and  above. all,  deficient  in 
funds.  The  funds  of  tlie  Imperial  treasury 
were  exhausted,  and  an  aid,  amounting  only 
to  eighty  thousand  pounds,  was  obtained 
from  England  with  difficulty.  In  conse- 
quence of  these  circumstances,  the  Russians 
were  repeatedly,  during  the  campaign,  ob- 
liged to  fight  at  disadvantage  for  want  of 
provisions. — We  return  to  the  progress  of 
the  war. 

On  the  25th  of  December,  the  Russian 
army  of  Bennigsen,  closely  concentrated, 
occupied  a  position  behind  Pultusk;  their 
left,  commanded  by  Count  Ostreman,  rest- 
ing upon  the  town,  which  is  situated  on  the 
river  Narew.  A  corps  occupied  the  bridge, 
to  prevent  any  attack  from  that  point.  The 
right,  under  Barclay  de  Tolly,  was  strongly 
posted  in  a  wood,  and  the  centre  was  under 
the  orders  of  General  Zachen.  A  consid- 
erable plain  extended  between  the  town  of 
Pultusk  and  the  wood,  which  formed  the 
right  of  the  Russian  position.  They  had 
stationed  a  powerful  advanced  guard,  had 
occupied  the  plain  with  their  cavalry,  and 
established  a  strong  reserve  in  their  rear. 
On  the  2Cth,  the  Russian  position  was  at- 
tacked by  the  French  divisions  of  Lannea 
and  Davoust,  together  with  the  French 
guards.  After  skirmishing  some  time  in  the 
centre,  without  making  the  desired  impres- 
sion, the  battle  appeared  doubtful,  when, 
suddenly  assembling  a  great  strength  on 
their  own  left,  the  French  made  a  decisive 
effort  to  overwhelm  the  Russians,  by  turn- 
ing their  right  wing.  The  attack  prevail- 
ed to  a  certain  extent.  The  accumulated 
and  superior  weight  of  fire,  determined 
I  Barclay  de  Tolly  to  retreat  on  his  reserves, 
which  he  did  without  confusion,  while  the 
I  French  seized  upon  the  wood,  and  took 
1  several  Russian  guns.  But  Bennigsen,  in 
I  spite  of  Kaminskoy's  order  to  retreat,  waa 
I  determined  to  abide  the  brunt  of  battle,  and 
}  to  avail  himself  of  the  rugged  intrepidity  of 
,  the  troops  which  he  commanded.    Order« 


452 


LIFE  OF  KAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


ing  Barclay  de  Tolly  to  continue  his  retreat, 
and  thus  throwing  back  his  right  wing,  he 
enticed  the  French,  confident  in  victory,  to 
pursue  their  success  until  the  Russian  caval- 
ry, which  had  covered  the  manoeuvre,  sud- 
denly withdrawing,  they  found  themselves 
under  a  murderous  and  well-directed  fire 
from  one  hundred  and  twenty  guns,  which 
extending  along  the  Russian  front,  played 
on  the  French  advancing  columns  with  the 
utmost  success.  The  Russian  line  at  the 
same  time  advanced  in  turn,  and  pushing 
the  enemy  before  them,  recovered  the 
ground  from  which  they  had  been  driven. 
The  approach  of  night  ended  the  combat, 
which  had  been  both  obstinate  and  bloody. 
The  French  lost  near  eight  thousand  men, 
killed  and  wounded,  including  General 
Lannes  and  fiv  2  other  general  oflicers  among 
the  latter.  Tlie  Russian  loss  amounted  to 
five  thousand.  The  French  retreated  after 
nightfall  with  such  rapidity,  that  on  the  next 
day  the  Cossacks  could  not  find  a  rear-guard 
in  the  vicinity  of  Pultusk. 

The  action  of  Pultusk  raised  the  reputation 
of  Bennigsen,  and  the  character  as  well  as 
the  spirits  of  the  Russian  army  ;  but  its 
moral  effect  on  the  soldiers  was  its  only 
important  consequence.  Had  Bennigsen 
been  joined  during  the  action  by  the  divis- 
ion of  Buxhowden  or  D'Anrep,  of  whom 
the  former  was  only  eight  miles  distant, 
the  check  might  have  been  converted  into 
a  victory,  highly  influential  on  the  issue  of 
the  campaign.  But  either  the  orders  of 
Kaminskoy,  or  some  misunderstanding,  pre- 
vented either  of  these  corps  from  advancing 
to  support  the  efforts  of  Bennigsen.  It  be- 
came impossible  for  him,  therefore,  notwith- 
standing the  advantages  he  had  obtained,  to 
retain  his  position  at  Pultusk,where  he  must 
have  been  surrounded.  He  accordingly  fell 
back  upon  Ostrolenka,  where  he  was  joined 
by  Prince  Galitzin  who  had  been  engaged  in 
action  at  Golymin  upon  the  day  of  the  battle 
of  Pultusk,  had  like  Bennigsen  driven  back 
the  enemy,  and  like  him  had  retreated,  for 
the  purpose  of  concentrating  his  forces 
with  those  of  the  grand  army.  The  French 
evinced  a  feeling  of  the  unusual  and  obsti- 
nate nature  of  the  contest  in  which  they 
had  been  engaged  at  Pultusk  and  Golymin. 
Instead  of  pressing  their  operations,  they 
retreated  into  winter-quarters  ;  Napoleon 
withdrawing  his  guard  as  far  as  Warsaw, 
while  the  other  divisions  were  cantoned  in 
the  towns  to  the  eastv/ard,  but  without  at- 
tempting to  realize  the  prophecies  of  the 
bulletins  concerning  the  approaching  fate  of 
the  Russian  army. 

The  conduct  of  Kaminskoy  began  now  to 
evince  decided  tokens  of  insanity.  He  was 
withdrawn  from  the  supreme  command, 
which,  with  the  general  approbation  of  the 
soldiers,  was  conferred  upon  Bennigsen. 
This  general  was  not  equal  in  military 
genius  to  Suwarrow,  but  he  seems  to  have 
been  well  fitted  to  command  a  Russian  army. 
He  was  active,  hardy,  and  enterprising, 
and  showed  none  of  that  peculiarly  fatal 
hesitation,  by  which  officers  of  other  na- 
tions opposed  to  the  French  generals,  and 
to  Buonaparte  in  particular,  seem  often  to 


have  been  affected,  as  with  a  sort  of  moral 
palsy,  which  disabled  them  for  the  com- 
bat at  the  very  moment  when  it  seemed 
about  to  commence.  On  the  contrary,  Ben- 
nigsen,finding  himself  in  the  supreme  com- 
mand of  ninety  thousand  men,  was  resolved 
not  to  wait  for  Buonaparte's  onset,  but  de- 
termined to  anticipate  his  motions  ;  wisely 
concluding,  that  the  desire  of  aesisting 
from  active  operations,  which  the  French 
Emperor  had  evinced  by  cantoning  his 
troops  in  winter-quarters,  ought  to  be  a 
signal  to  the  Russians  again  to  take  the 
field. 

The  situation  of  the  King  of  Prussia  tend- 
ed to  confirm  that  determination.  This 
unfortunate  monarch — well  surely  did 
Frederick  William  then  deserve  that  ep- 
ithet— was  cooped  up  in  the  town  of  Kon- 
igsberg,  only  covered  by  a  small  army  of  a 
few  thousand  men,  and  threatened  by  the 
gradual  approach  of  the  divisions  of*^  Ney 
and  Bernadotte  ;  so  that  the  King's  personal 
safety  appeared  to  be  in  considerable  dan- 
ger. Graudenfz,  the  key  of  the  Vistula, 
continued  indeed  to  hold  out,  but  the  Prus- 
sian garrison  was  reduced  to  distress,  and 
the  hour  of  surrender  seemed  to  be  ap- 
proaching. To  relieve  this  important  for- 
tress, therefore,  and  at  the  same  time  pro- 
tect Konigsberg,  were  motives  added  to 
the  other  reasons  which  determined  Ben- 
nigsen to  resume  offensive  operations.  A 
severe  and  doubtful  skirmish  was  fought 
near  Mohringen,  in  which  the  French  sus- 
tained considerable  loss.  The  Cossacks 
spread  abroad  over  the  country,  making  nu 
merous  prisoners ;  and  the  scheme  of  the 
Russian  general  succeeded  so  well,  as  to 
enable  the  faithful  L'Estocq  to  relieve 
Graudentz  with  reinforcements  and  provis- 
ions. 

By  these  daring  operations,  Buonaparte 
saw  himself  forced  into  a  winter  campaign, 
and  issued  general  orders  for  drawing  out 
his  forces,  with  the  purpose  of  concentrat- 
ing them  at  Willenberg,  in  the  rear  of  the 
Russians,  (then  stationed  at  Mohringen,) 
and  betwixt  them  and  their  own  country. 
He  proposed,  in  short,  to  force  his  enemies 
eastward  towards  the  Vistula,  as  at  Jena  ho 
had  compelled  the  Prussians  to  fight  with 
their  rear  turned  to  the  Rhine.  Bernadotte 
had  orders  to  engage  the  attention  of  Ben- 
nigsen upon  the  right,  and  detain  him  in  hia 
present  situation,  or  rather,  if  possible, 
induce  him  to  advance  eastward  towards 
Thorn,  so  as  to  facilitate  the  operation  he 
meditated. 

The  Russian  general  learned  Buona- 
parte's intention  from  an  intercepted  dis- 
patch, and  changed  his  purpose  of  advanc- 
ing on  Ney  and  Bernadotte.  Marches  and 
counter-marches  took  place,  through  a 
country  at  all  times  difficult,  and  now 
covered  with  snow.  The  experience  and 
dexterity  of  the  French  secured  some  ad- 
vantages, but  these  were  fully  counter- 
balanced by  the  daily  annoyance  and  loss 
which  they  in  turn  sustained  from  Platovr 
and  his  Cossacks.  In  cases  where  the 
French  retreated,  the  Scythian  lances 
were  always  on  their  rear ;   and  when  the 


Chap.  LI  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


453 


Rassians  retired  in  turn,  and  were  pursued 
by  the  French,  with  the  s^me  venturous 
spirit  which  they  had  displayed  against 
others,  the  latter  seldom  failed  to  suffer  for 
their  presumption.  There  was  found  in  the 
spearmen  of  the  Don  and  Wolga  a  natural 
and  instinctive  turn  for  military  stratagem, 
ambuscade,  and  sudden  assault,  which  com- 
pelled the  French  light  troops  to  adopt  a 
caution,  very  different  from  their  usual 
habits  of  audacity. 

Bennigscn  was  aware  that  it  v.  as  the  in- 
terest of  Russia  to  protract  the  campaign 
in  this  manner.  He  was  near  his  reinforce- 
ments, the  French  were  distant  from  theirs 
—every  loss,  therefore,  told  more  in  pro- 
portion on  the  enemy,  tlian  on  his  army. 
On  the  other  hand,  llie  Ilussian  army,  im- 
patient of  protracted  hostilities,  became 
clamorous  for  battle  ;  for  the  hardships  of 
their  situation  were  such  as  to  give  them 
every  desire  to  bring  the  war  to  a  crisis. 
We  have  noticed  the  defects  of  the  Rus- 
sian commissariat.  They  were  especially 
manifest  during  those  campaigns,  when  the 
leader  was  obliged  more  than  once,  merely 
from  want  of  provisions,  to  peril  the  fate 
of  the  war  upon  a  general  battle,  which 
prudence  would  have  induced  him  to  avoid. 
In  those  northern  latitudes,  and  in  the  month 
of  February,  the  troops  had  no  resource  but 
to  prowl  about,  and  dig  for  tlie  hoards  ol' 
provision  concealed  by  the  peasants.  This 
labour,  added  to  their  military  duty,  left 
them  scarcely  lime  to  Ho  down  ;  and  when 
they  did  so,  they  had  no  bed  but  the  snow, 
no  shelter  but  the  wintry  heaven,  and  no 
covering  but  their  rags.*  The  distres.ses 
of  the  army  were  so  extreme,  that  it  induced 
General  Bennigsen,  against  his  judgment,  to 
give  battle  at  all  risks,  and  for  this  purpose 


re-occupy  Preuss-Eylau.  They  found  the 
French  already  in  possession,  and,  although 
they  dislodged  them,  were  themselves 
driven  out  in  turn  by  another  division  of 
Frencli,  to  whom  Buonaparte  had  promised 
the  plunder  of  the  town.  A  third  division 
of  Russians  was  ordered  to  advance ;  for 
Bennigsen  was  desirous  to  protract  the  con- 
test for  the  town  until  the  arrival  of  his 
heavy  artillery,  which  joined  him  by  a  dif- 
ferent route.  When  it  came  up,  he  would 
have  discontinued  the  struggle  for  posses- 
sion of  Preuss-Eylau,  but  it  was  impossible 
to  control  the  ardour  of  the  Russian  col- 
umns, who  persevered  in  advancing  with 
drums  beating,  rushed  into  the  town,  and, 
surprising  the  French  in  the  act  of  sacking 
it,  put  many  of  them  to  the  bayonet,  even 
in  the  acts  of  license  which  they  were  prac- 
tising. Preuss-Eylau,  however,  proved  no 
place  of  shelter.  It  was  protected  by  no 
works  of  any  kind  ;  and  the  French  advanc- 
ing under  cover  of  the  hillocks  and  broken 
ground  which  skirt  the  village,  threw  their 
lire  upon  the  streets,  by  which  the  Russians 
sustained  some  loss.  General  Barclay  de 
Tolly  was  wounded,  and  his  forces  again 
evacuated  the  town,  which  was  once  more 
and  finally  occupied  by  the  French.  Night 
fell,  and  the  combat  ceased,  to  be  renewed 
with  treble  fury  on  the  next  day. 

The  position  of  the  two  armies  may  be 
easily  described.  That  of  Russia  occupied 
a  space  of  uneven  ground,  about  two  miles 
in  length  and  a  mile  in  depth,  with  the  vil- 
lag<;  of  Serpallen  on  their  left ;  in  the  front 
of  their  army,  lay  the  town  of  Preuss-Eylau, 
situated  in  a  hollow,  and  in  possession  of 
the  French,  it  was  watched  by  a  Russian 
division;  which,  to  protect  the  Russian 
centre    from    being   broken   by    an    attack 


to  concentrate  his  forces  at  Preuss-Eylau,  from  that  quarter,  was  strongly  reinforced, 
which  was  pitched  on  as  the  field  on  which  though  by  doing  so  the  right  wing  was  con- 
he  proposed  to  await  Buonaparte.  siderably  weakened.  This  was  thought  of 
In  marching  through  Landsbergto  occupy  the  less  consequence,  that  L'Estocq,  with 
the  selected  ground,  the  Russian  rear-guard  his  division  of  I'russians,  was  hourly  expect- 
was   exposed  to   a  serious    attack  by   the  ed  to  join  the  Russians  on  that  point.     The 


French,  and  was  only  saved  from  great  loss 
by  the  gallantry  of  Prince  Bagration,  who 
redeemed,  by  sheer  dint  of  fighting,  the  loss 
sustained  by  want  of  conduct  in  defiling 
through   the   streets   of  a   narrow    village. 


Frencii  occupied  Eylau  with  their  left, 
while  their  centre  and  right  lay  parallel  to 
the  Russians,  upon  a  chain  of  heights  which 
commanded  in  a  great  measure  the  ground 
possessed   by  the    enen>y.     They  also  ox- 


while  pursued  by  an   enterprising  enemy.  |  pected  to   be    reinforced   by  the   division 
The  Russian  army  lost  3000  men.     On  the  j  of  Ney,    which    had    not    come    up,    and 
7th  February,  the  same  gallant  prince,  with    which  was  destined  to  form  on  the  extreme 
the  Russian  rear-guard,  gained  such  deci- 
ded advantages   over   the    F'rencii    van    as 
nearly  balanced  the  loss  at  Landsberg,  and 
gavC'  time   for  the  whole  army  to   march 
through  the  town  of  Preuss-Eylau,  and   to 
take   up  a  position  behind  it.     It  had  been 
intended  to  maintain  the  town  i'self,  and  a 


left. 

The  space  betwixt  the  hostile  armies  was 
open  and  flat,  and  intersected  with  frozen 
lakes.  They  might  trace  each  other's  posi- 
tion by  the  pale  glimmer  of  the  watch- 
lights  upon  the  snow.  The  difference  of 
numerical   force    was    considerably   to  the 


body  of  troops  had  been  left  for  that  pur-  i  advantage  of  the  French.  .Sir  Robert  Wil 
pose  ;  but  in  the  confusion  attending  the  son  rates  them  at  90.000  men,  opposed  to 
movement  of  so  large  an  army,  the  orders  ,  60,000  only  ;  but  the  disproportion  is  proba- 
isaued  had  been  misunderstood,  and  the  di-  bly  considerably  overrated. 
vision  designed  for  this  service  evacuated  The  eventful  action  commenced  with 
the  place  so  soon  as  the  rear-guard  had  day-break  on  the  8th  of  P'ebruary.  Two 
passed  through  it.  i  strong   columns   of  the  French    advanced. 

A  Russian  division  was  hastily  ordered  to    with  the  purpose  of  turning  the  right,  and 
storming  the  centre,  of  the  Russians,  at  one 

•  Sir  Robert  WiUon'e  Skolch  of  the  Campaigns  ]  and  the  same  time.     But  they  were  driven 
taPolaod,  ia  130i>-7,  p  94.  i  bick   iu  great  disarJer  by    tb.e  heavy  and 


454 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


SQstained  fire  of  the  Russian  artillery.  An 
attack  on  the  Russian  left  was  equally  un- 
successful. The  Russian  infantry  stood 
like  stone  ramparts — they  repulsed  the  en- 
emy— their  cavalry  came  to  their  support, 
pursued  the  retiring  assailants,  and  took 
standards  and  eagles.  About  mid-day,  a 
heavy  storm  of  snow  began  to  fixU,  which 
the  wind  drove  right  in  the  face  of  the 
Russians,  and  which  added  to  the  ob- 
scurity caused  by  the  smoke  of  the  burn- 
ing village  of  Serpallen,  that  rolled  along 
the  line. 

Under  cover  of  the  darkness,  sLy  columns 
of  the  French  advanced  with  artillery  and 
cavalry,  and  were  close  on  the  Russian  po- 
sition ere  they  were  opposed.  Bennigsen, 
at  the  head  of  his  staff,  brought  up  the  re- 
serves in  person,  who,  uniting  with  the 
first  line,  bore  the  French  back  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet.  Their  columns, 
partly  broken,  were  driven  again  to  their 
own  position,  where  they  rallied  with  diffi- 
culty. A  French  regiment  of  cuirassiers, 
which,  during  this  part  of  the  action,  had 
gained  an  interval  in  the  Russian  army, 
were  charged  by  the  Cossacks,  and  found 
their  defensive  armour  no  protection  against 
the  lance.  They  were  all  slain  except 
eighteen. 

At  the  moment  when  victory  appeared  to 
declare  for  the  Russians,  it  was  on  the 
point  of  being  wrested  from  them.  Da- 
voust's  division  had  been  manoeuvring 
since  the  beginning  of  the  action  to  turn 
the  left,  and  gain  tlie  rear,  of  the  Russian 
line.  They  now  made  their  appearance  on 
the  field  of  battle  with  such  sudden  effect, 
that  Serpallen  was  lost,  the  Russian  left 
wing,  and  a  part  of  their  centre,  were 
thrown  into  disorder,  and  forced  to  retire 
and  change  their  front,  so  as  to  form  almost 
at  right  angles  with  the  right,  and  that  part 
of  the  centre  which  retaiued  their  original 
position. 

At  this  crisis,  and  while  the  French  wore 
ga-ning  ground  on  the  rear  of  the  Russians, 
L'Estocq,  so  long  expected,  appeared  in 
his  turn  suddenly  on  the  field,  and,  passing 
the  left  of  the  French,  and  the  right  of  the 
Russians,  pushed  down  in  three  columns  to 
redeem  the  battle  on  the  Russian  centre 
and  rear.  The  Prussians  under  that  loyal 
and  gallant  leader,  regained  in  this  bloody 
field  their  ancient  military  reputation. 
They  never  fired  till  within  a  few  paces  of 
the  enemy,  and  then  used  the  bayonet  with 
readiness  and  courage.  They  redeemed 
the  ground  which  the  Russians  had  lost, 
and  drove  back  in  their  turn  the  troops  of 
Davoust  and  Bernadotte,  who  had  been 
lately  victorious. 

Ney,  in  the  meanwhile,  appeared  on  the 
field,  and  occupied  Schloditten,  a  village 
on  the  road  to  Konigsberg.  As  this  en- 
dangered the  communication  of  the  Rus- 
sians with  that  town,  it  was  thought  neces- 
sary to  carry  it  by  storm  ;  a  gallant  resolu- 
tion, which  was  successfully  executed. 
This  was  the  last  actoftliat  bloody  day. 
It  was  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  the  combat 
was  ended. 

Fifty   thousand   men    perished    in    this 


dreadful  battle— the  best  contested  in  which 
Buonaparte  had  yet  engaged,  and  by  far 
the  most  unsuccessful.  He  retired  to  the 
heights  from  which  he  had  advanced  in  the 
morning,  without  having  gained  one  point 
for  which  he  had  struggled,  and  after  having 
suffered  a  loss  considerably  greater  than 
that  which  he  had  inflicted  on  the  enemy. 
But  the  condition  of  the  Russian  army  was 
also  extremely  calamitous.  Their  generals 
held  a  council  of  war  upon  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, and  without  dismounting  from  their 
I  horses.  The  general  sentiment  which  pre- 
vailed among  them  was,  a  desire  to  renew 
the  battle  on  the  next  day,  at  all  hazards. 
Tolstoy  undertook  to  move  forward  on  the 
Frencli  lines — L'Estocq  urged  the  same 
counsel.  They  offered  to  pledge  their 
lives,  that,  would  Bennigsen  advance,  Na- 
poleon must  necessarily  retire  ;  and  they 
urged  the  moral  effect  which  would  be  pro- 
duced, not  on  their  army  only,  but  on  Ger- 
many and  on  Europe,  by  such  an  admission 
of  weakness  on  the  part  of  him  who  had 
never  advanced  but  to  victory.  But  Ben- 
nigsen conceived  that  the  circumstances  of 
his  army  di  1  not  permit  him  to  encounter 
the  hazard  of  being  cut  off  from  Konigsberg, 
and  endangering  the  person  of  the  King  of 
Prussia  ;  or  that  of  risking  a  second  general 
action,  with  an  army  diminished  by  at  least 
20,000  killed  and  wounded,  short  of  ammu- 
nition, and  totally  deprived  of  provisions. 
The  Russians  accordingly  commenced  their 
retreat  on  Konigsberg  that  very  night.  The 
division  of  Count  Ostreman  did  not  move 
till  the  nest  morning,  when  it  traversed  the 
field  in  front  of  Preuss-Eylau,  without  the 
slightest  interruption  from' the  French,  who 
still  occupied  the  town. 

The  battle  of  Preuss-Eylau  was  claimed 
as  a  victory  by  both  parties,  though  it  was 
very  far  from  being  decided  in  favour  of 
either.  Bennigsen  had  it  to  boast,  that  he 
had  repelled  the  attacks  of  Buonaparte 
along  the  whole  of  his  line,  and  that  the 
fighting  terminated  unfavourably  to  the 
French.  He  could  also  exhibit  the  unusual 
spectacle  of  twelve  Imperial  eagles  of 
France,  taken  in  one  action.  For  many  days 
after  the  battle,  also,  the  Cossacks  continu- 
ed to  scour  the  country,  and  bring  into  Kon- 
igsberg great  numbers  of  French  prisoners. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  subsequent  retreat 
of  the  Russians  was  interpreted  by  the 
French  into  an  acknowledgment  of  weak- 
ness ;  and  they  appealed  to  their  own  pos- 
session of  the  field  of  battle,  with  the  dead 
and  wounded,  as  the  usual  testimonials  of 
victory. 

But  there  were  two  remarkable  circum- 
stances, by  which  Napoleon  virtually  ac- 
knowledged that  he  had  received  an  un'isual 
check.  On  the  13th  February,  four  divs  af- 
ter the  battle,  a  message  was  despatched  to 
the  King  of  Prussia  by  Buonaparte,  propos- 
ing an  armistice,  on  grounds  far  more  fa- 
vourable to  the  Prince  than  those  Freder- 
ick ^V'illiam  miglit  iiave  been  disposed  to 
accept,  or  which  Buonaparte  would  harn 
been  inclined  to  grant,  after  the  battle  of 
Jena.  It  was  even  intimated,  that  in  case 
of  agreeing  to  ipake  a  separate  peace,  tha 


Chap.  LIV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOJ^J  BUONAPARTE. 


455 


Pnissian  King  might  obtain  from  the  French 
Emperor  the  restoration  of  his  whole  do- 
minions. True  to  his  ally  the  Emperor  of 
Russia,  Frederick  William,  even  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  distress,  refused  to  accede  to 
any  save  a  general  peace.  The  proposal  of 
an  armistice  was  also  peremptorily  refused, 
and  the  ground  on  which  it  was  offered  was 
construed  to  indicate  Buonaparte's  con- 
scious weakness. 

Another  decisive  proof  of  the  loss  which 
Napoleon  had  sustained  in  the  battle  of 
Preuss-Eylau,  was  his  inactivity  after  the 
battle.  For  eight  days  he  remained  without 
making  any  movement,  excepting  by  means 
of  his  cavalry,  which  were  generally  worst- 
ed, and  on  the  19th  February  he  evacuated 
the  place,  and  prepared  himself  to  retreat 
upon  the  Vistula,  instead  of  driving  the  Rus- 
sians, as  he  had  threatened,  behind  the  Pre- 
gel.  Various  actions  took  place  during  his 
retreat  with  different  fortunes,  but  the  Rus- 
sian Cossacks  and  light  troops  succeeded  in 
making  numbers  of  prisoners,  and  collect- 
ing much  spoil. 

The  operations  of  Napoleon,  when  he 
had  again  retired  to  the  line  of  the  \'istula, 
intimated  caution,  and  tlie  sense  of  a  dilfi- 
cult  task  before  him.  He  appeared  to  feel, 
that  the  advance  into  Poland  had  been  pre- 
mature, while  Dantzic  remained  in  the  hands 
of  the  Prussians,  from  whence  the  most 
alarming  operations  might  take  place  in  his 
rear,  should  he  again  advance  to  the\'istula 
without  subduing  it.  The  siege  of  Dantzic 
w.as  therefore  to  be  formed  without  delay. 
The  place  was  defended  by  General  Kal- 
kreuth  to  the  last  extremity.  After  many 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  relieve  it.  Dantzic 
finally  surrendered  in  the  end  of  May  1807, 
after  trenches  had  been  opened  before  it  for 
fifly-two  days.  If  the  season  of  the  year 
had  admitted,  a  British  expedition  to  Dant- 
zic might,  if  ably  conducted,  have  operated 
in  the  rearof  Ihe  Emperor  Napoleon  the  re- 
lief of  Prussia,  and  perhaps  effected  the  lib- 
eration of  Europe. 

The  utmost  care  was  also  taken,  to  sup- 
ply the  loss  which  Napoleon's  armies  had 
sustained  in  these  hard-fought  campaigns. 
He  raised  the  siege  of  C'olbers',  drew  the 
nreater  part  of  his  forces  out  of  Silesia,  or- 
dered a  new  levy  in  Switzerland,  urged  the 
march  of  bodies  of  troops  from  Italy,  and,  to 
complete  his  means,  demanded  a  new  con- 
scription of  the  year  1808,  which  was  in- 
stantly complied  with  by  the  Senate  as  a 
matter  of  coutse.  At  length,  as  summer  ap- 
proached, the  surrender  of  Dantzic  enabled 
him  to  unite  the  besieging  division,  twenty- 
t  ve  thousand  strong,  to  his  main  army,  aiid 
to  prep.are  to  resume  offensive  operations. 
A  large  levy  of  Poles  was  made  at  the  same 
time  :  and  they,  with  other  light  troops  of 
the  French,  were  employed  in  making 
strong  recognizances,  with  various  fortune, 
but  never  wi'hout  the  exchange  of  hard 
blows.  It  became  evident  to  all  Europe, 
that  whatever  might  be  the  end  of  this 
bloody  conflict,  the  French  Emperor  was 
contending  with  a  general  and  troops, 
against  whom  it  was  impossible  to  irain 
those  overpowering  and  irresistible  advan- 


tages, which  characterized  his  campaigns  in 
Italy  and  Germany.  The  bulletins,  it  is 
true,  announced  new  successes  from  day  to 
day ;  but  as  the  geographical  advance  upon 
the  Polish  territory  was  by  no  means  in  pro- 
portion to  the  advantages  claimed,  it  was 
plain  that  Napoleon  was  as  often  engaged  in 
parrying  as  in  pushing,  in  repairing  losses 
as  in  improving  victories.  The  Russian 
generals  composed  plans  with  skill,  and  ex- 
ecuted them  with  activity  and  spirit,  for  cut- 
ting off  separate  divisions,  and  disturbing 
the  French  communications. 

The  Russian  army  had  received  reinforce- 
ments ;  but  they  were  deficient  in  numeri- 
cal amount,  and  only  made  up  their  strength, 
at  the  utmost,  to  their  original  computation 
of  90,000  men.  This  proved  unpardonable 
negligence  in  the  Russian  government,  con- 
sidering the  ease  with  which  men  can  there 
be  levied  to  any  extent  by  the  mere  will  of 
the  Emperor,  and  the  vital  importance  of  the 
war  which  they  were  now  waging.  It  is 
said,  however,  that  the  poverty  of  the  Rus- 
sian administration  was  the  cause  of  this 
failure  to  recruit  their  forces  ;  and  that  the 
British  being  applied  to,  to  negotiate  a  loan 
of  six  millions,  and  advance  one  million  to 
account,  had  declined  the  transaction,  and 
thereby  given  great  offence  to  the  Emperor 
Alexander. 

Napoleon,  so  much  more  remote  from  his 
own  territories,  had  already,  by  exertions 
unparalleled  in  the  history  of  Europe,  as- 
sembled two  hundred  and  eighty  thousand 
men  between  the  Vistula  and  iVIemel,  in- 
cluding the  garrison  of  Dantzic.  With  such 
unequal  forces  the  war  recommenced. 

Tlie  Russians  were  the  assailants,  making 
a  combined  movement  on  Ney's  division, 
wliich  was  stationed  at  Gutstadt,  and  in  the 
vicinity.     They  pursued  him  as  far  as  Dep- 
pen,  where  there  was  some    fighting;  but 
upon  the  8th   of  June,  Napoleon  advanced 
in  person  to  extocate  his  Marshal,  andBen- 
nigsen  was  obliged  to  retreat  in  his  turn.  He 
was  hardly  pressed  on  the  rear  by  the  Grand 
Army  of  France.     But  even  in  this  moment 
of  peril,  Platow,  with  his  Cossacks,  made  a 
charge,  or,  in  their  phrase,  a  hourra,  upon 
the  French,  with  such   success,  that  they 
not  only  dispersed  the  skirmishers   of  the 
French  vanguard,  and  the  advanced  troop* 
destined  to  support  them ,  but  compelled  the 
infantry  to  form  squares,  endangered  the 
personal  safety  of  Napoleon,  and  occupied 
the  attention  of  the  whole  French  cavalrv, 
who  bore  down  on  them  at  full  speed.  Mus- 
ketry and  artillery  were  all  turned  on  them 
I  at  once,  but  to  little  or   no  purpose  :  for, 
!  having  once  gained  the  purpose  of  checking 
I  the   advance,  which  was  all  they  aimed  at, 
[  the   cloud  of  Cossacks  dispersed  over  the 
[  field,  like  mist  before  the  sun,   and  united 
'  behind  the  battalions  whom  their  demon- 
stration had  protected. 

By  this  means  Platow  and  his  followers 
had  ^t  before  the  retreating  division  of  the 
Russian  army  under  Bagration.  which  they 
were  expected  to  support,  and  had  reached 
first  a  bridje  over  tlie  Aller.  The  Cossacks 
were  alarn\ed  by  the  immense  display  of 
force  demonstrated  against  them,  and  show- 


45(i 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  UV. 


ed  a  disposition  to  throw  themselves  con- 
fusedly on  the  bridge,  which  must  certainly 
have  been  attended  with  the  most  disastrous 
consequences  to  the  rear-guard,  who  would 
thus  have  been  impeded  in  their  retreat  by 
the  very  troops  appointed  to  support  them. 
The  courage  and  devotion  of  Platow  pre- 
vented that  great  misfortune.  He  threw 
himself  from  his  horse.  "  Let  the  Cossack 
that  is  base  enough,'"  he  exclaimed,  "  de- 
sert his  Hettman  !"  The  children  of  the 
wilderness  halted  around  him,  and  lie  dis- 
posed of  them  in  perfect  order  to  protect 
the  retreat  of  Bagration  and  the  rear-guard, 
End  afterwards  achieved  his  own  retreat 
with  trifling  loss. 

The  Russian  army  fell  back  upon  Heils- 
berg,  and  there  concentrating  their  forces, 
made  a  most  desperate  stand.  A  very  hard- 
fought  action  here  took  place.  The  Rus- 
sians, overpowered  by  superior  numbers, 
and  forced  from  the  level  ground,  continu- 
ed to  defend  with  fury  their  position  on  the 
heights,  which  the  French  made  equally 
strenuous  efforts  to  carry  by  assault.  The 
combat  was  repeatedly  renewed,  with  cav- 
alry, infantry,  and  artillery  ;  but  without 
the  fiery  valour  of  the  assailants  making 
»«ny  effectual  impression  on  the  iron  ranks 
of  the  Russians.  The  battle  continued,  till 
the  approach  of  midnight,  upon  terms  of 
equality  ;  and  when  the  morning  dawned, 
tlie  space  of  ground  between  the  position 
of  the  Russians  and  that  of  the  French,  was 
not  merely  strewed,  but  literally  sheeted 
over,  with  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and 
wounded.  The  Russians  retired  unmolest- 
ed after  the  battle  of  Heilsberg,  and,  cross- 
ing the  river  Aller,  placed  that  barrier  be- 
tvi'i.xt  them  and  the  arm>  of  Buonaparte, 
which,  though  it  had  suffered  great  losses, 
had,  in  consequence  of  the  superiority  of 
numbers,  been  less  affected  by  them  than 
the  Russian  forces.  In  the  condition  of 
Bennigsen's  army,  it  was  his  obvious  poli- 
cy to  protract  the  war,  especially  as  rein- 
forcements, to  the  number  of  thirty  thou- 
sand men,  w-ere  approaching  the  frontier 
from  the  interior  of  the  empire.  It  was 
probably  with  this  view  that  he  kept  his  ar- 
my on  the  right  bank  of  the  Aller,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  bodies  of  cavalry,  for  the 
sake  of  observation  and  intelligence. 

On  the   13th,  the  Russian  army  reached 
Friedland,  a  considerable  town  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Aller,  communicating  with  the 
eastern,  or  right  bank  of  the  river,  by  a  long 
wooden  bridge.     It  was  the  object  of  jN'apo-  I 
leon  to  induce  the  Russian  general  to  pass  ' 
by  this  narrow  bridge  to  the  left  bank,  and 
then  to  decoy  him  into  a  general  action,  in 
a  position  where   the  difficulty  of  defiling 
through  the  town,  and  over  the  bridge,  must  ! 
render  retreat  almost  impossible.     For  this  i 
purpose  he  showed  such  a  proportion  only  i 
of  his  forces,  as  induced  General  Bennigsen  I 
to  believe  that  the  French   troops  on   the  j 
western  side  of  the  Aller  consisted  only  of  i 
Oudinot's  division,  wliich  had  been  severe- 
ly handled  in  the  battle  of  Heilsberg,  and 
which  he  now  hoped  altogether  to  destroy.  | 
Under  this  deception  he  ordered  a  Russian  j 
division  to  pass  the  bridge,  defile  through  j 


I  the  town,  and  march  to  the  assault.     Th« 
I  French  took  care  to  offer  no  such  resistance 
as  should  intimate  their  real  strength.  Ben- 
nigsen was  thus  led  to  reinforce  this  divis- 
ion with  another — the  battle  thickened,  and 
the  Russian  general  at  length  transported 
I  all  his  army,  one  division  excepted,  to  the 
i  left  bank  of  the  .\ller,   by   means  of  the 
wooden  bridge  and  Uiree  pontoons,  and  ar- 
rayed them  in  front  of  the  town  of  Fried- 
land,  to  overpower,  as  he   supposed,   the 
crippled  division  of  the  French,  to  which 
alone  he  believed  himself  opposed. 

But  no  sooner  had  he  taken  this  irre- 
trievable step  than  the  mask  was  dropped. 
The  French  skirmishers  advanced  in  force  ; 
heavy  columns  of  infanty  began  to  show 
themselves;  batteries  of  cannon  were  got 
into  position  ;  and  all  circumstances  con- 
curred, with  the  report  of  prisoners,  to  as- 
sure Bennigsen,  that  he,  with  his  enfeebled 
forces,  was  in  presence  of  the  grand  French 
army.  His  position,  a  sort  of  plain,  sur- 
rounded by  woods  and  broken  ground,  was 
dillicult  to  defend;  with  the  town  and  a 
large  river  in  his  rear,  it  was  dangerous  to 
attempt  a  retreat,  and  to  advance  was  pre- 
vented by  the  inequality  of  his  force.  Ben- 
nigsen now  became  anxious  to  maintain  his 
communication  with  Wehlau,  a  town  on 
the  Pregel,  which  was  the  original  point  of 
retreat,  and  where  he  hoped  to  join  with 
the  Prussians  under  General  L'Estocq.  If 
the  enemy  should  seize  the  bridge  at  Aller- 
berg,  some  miles  lower  down  the  Aller 
than  Friedland,  this  plan  would  become  im- 
possible, and  he  found  hiniselt'  therefore 
obliged  to  diminish  his  forces,  by  detaching 
six  thousand  men  to  defend  that  point. 
With  the  remainder  of  his  tbrce  he  resolv- 
ed to  maintain  his  present  position  till 
night. 

The  French  advanced  to  the  attack  about 
ten  o'clock.  The  broken  and  wooded  coun- 
try which  they  occupied,  enabled  them  to 
maintain  and  renew  their  efforts  at  pleasure, 
while  the  Russians,  in  their  exposed  situa- 
tion, co\ild  not  make  the  slightest  movement 
without  being  observed.  Yet  they  fought 
with  such  obstinate  valour,  that  about  noon 
the  French  seemed  sickening  of  the  con- 
test, and  about  to  retire.  But  this  was  on- 
ly a  feint,  to  repose  such  of  their  forces  as 
had  been  engaged,  and  to  bring  up  rein- 
forcements. The  cannonade  continued  till 
about  half  past  four,  when  Buonaparte 
brought  up  his  full  force  in  person,  for  the 
purpose  of  one  of  those  desperate  and  gen- 
erally irresistible  efforts  to  which  he  was 
wont  to  trust  the  decision  of  a  doubtful  day. 
Columns  of  enormous  power,  and  extensive 
depth,  appeared  partially  visible  among  the 
interstices  oftl^e  wooded  country,  and  seen 
from  the  tov.n  of  Friedland,  the  hapless 
Russian  army  looked  as  if  surrounded  by  a 
deep  semicircle  of  clittcring  steel.  The 
attack  upon  all  tlie  line,  with  cavalry,  in- 
fantry, and  artillery,  was  general  and  simul- 
taneous, the  French  advancing  with  shouts 
of  assured  victory ;  while  the  Russians, 
weakened  by  the  loss  of  at  least  twelve 
thousand  lulled  and  wounded,  were  obliged 
to  attempt  that  most  dispiriting  and  danger- 


Chap.  LI  v.] 


LIFE  OF  XAPOLEOX  BUONAPARTE. 


457 


0U8  of  movements — a  retreat  through  en- 
cumbered defiles,  in  front  of  a  superior  en- 
emy. The  principal  attack  was  on  the  left 
wing,  where  the  Russian  position  was  at 
length  forced.  The  troops  which  composed 
it  streamed  into  the  town,  and  crowded  the 
bridge  and  pontoons  ;  the  enemy  thundered 
on  their  rear,  and  w.lhout  the  valour  of 
Alexanders  Imperial  Guard,  the  Russians 
would  have  been  utterly  destroyed.  These 
brave  soldiers  charged  with  the  bayonet 
the  corps  of  Xey,  who  led  the  French  van- 
iniard,  disordered  his  column,  and,  though 
Uiey  were  overpowered  by  numbers,  pre- 
vented the  total  ruin  of  the  left  wing. 

Meanwhile,  the  bridge  and  pontoons 
were  set  on  iSre,  to  prevent  the  French, 
who  had  forced  their  way  into  the  town, 
from  taking  possession  of  them.  The  smoke 
rolling  over  the  combatants,  increased  the 
horror  and  confusion  of  the  scene  ;  yet  a 
considerable  part  of  the  Russian  infantry 
escaped  through  a  ford  close  by  the  town, 
which  was  discovered  in  the  moment  of  de- 
feat. The  Russian  centre  and  right,  who 
remained  on  the  west  bank  of  the  .\ller,  ef- 
fected a  retreat  by  a  circuitous  route,  leav- 
ing on  the  right  the  town  of  Friedland,  with 
its  burning  bridges,  no  longer  practicable 
for  friend  or  foe,  and  passing  the  Aller  by  a 
ford  considerably  farther  down  the  river. 
This  alsftjuas  found  out  in  the  very  mo- 
ment of  extremity, — was  deep  and  danger- 
ous.— took  the  infantry  up  to  the  breast, 
Hnd  destroyed  what  ammunition  was  left  in 
the  tumbrils. 

Thns  were  the  Russians  once  more  united 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  Aller,  and  enabled 
to  prosecute  their  march  towards  Wehlau. 
Amid  the  calamities  of  defeat,  they  had 
saved  all  their  cannon  except  seventeen, 
and  preserved  their  baggage.  Indeed,  the 
Ktubborn  character  of  their  defence  seems 
to  have  paralyzed  the  energies  of  the  victor, 
who.  after  carrying  the  Russian  position, 
showed  little  of  that  activity  in  improving 
his  success,  which  usually  characterized 
him  upon  such  occasions.  He  pushed  no 
troops  over  the  .\ller  in  pursuit  of  the  re- 
treating enemy,  but  suffered  Bennigsen  to 
rally  his  broken  troops  without  interrup- 
tion. Neither,  when  in  possession  of  F'ried- 
land.  did  he  detach  any  force  down  the  left 
bank,  to  act  upon  the  flank  of  the  Russian 
centre  and  right,  and  cut  them  off  from  the 
river.  In  short,  the  battle  of  Friedland, 
according  to  the  expression  of  a  French 
general,  was  a  battle  gained,  but  a  victory 
lost. 

Yet  the    most   important   consequences 
resulted  from  the  action,  though  the  French 
success  had   been   but  partially  improved. 
Konigsberg,  which   had  been  so  long  the 
refuge  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  was  evacuat- 
ed by  his   forces,  as  it  became   plain  his 
Russian  auxiliaries  could  no  longer  maintain 
the  war  in  Poland.     Bennissen  retreated  to 
Tilsit,  towards  the  Russian  frontiers.     But  j 
the  moral  consequences  of  the  defeat  were  i 
of  far  greater  consequence  than  could  have  j 
been  either  the  capture  of  guns  and  prison-  | 
ere,  or  the  acquisition  of  territory.     It  had  | 
the  effect,  evidently  desired  by  Napoleon,  ■ 
Vol.  I.  U 


of  disposing  the  Emperor  Alexander  to 
peace.  The  former  could  not  but  feel  that 
he  was  engaged  with  a  more  obstinate 
enemy  in  Russia,  than  any  he  had  yet  en- 
countered. After  so  many  bloody  battles, 
he  was  scarce  arrived  on  the  frontiers  of  an 
immense  empire,  boundless  in  its  extent, 
and  almost  inexhaustible  in  resourcesj  while 
the  French,  after  suffering  extremely  in  de- 
feating an  army  that  was  merely  auxiliary, 
could  scarce  be  supposed  capable  of  under- 
taking a  scheme  of  invasion  so  gigantic  as 
that  of  plunging  into  the  vast  regions  of 
Muscovy. 

Such  an  enterprize  would  have  been  pe- 
culiarly hazardous  in  the  situation  in  which 
the  French  Emperor  now  stood.  The  Eng- 
lish expedition  to  the  Baltic  was  daily  ex- 
pected. Gustavus  was  in  Swedish  Pomera- 
nia,  at  the  head  of  a  considerable  armv, 
which  had  raised  the  siege  of  Stralsund.  A 
spirit  of  resistance  was  awakening  in  Prus- 
sia, where  the  resolute  conduct  of  Blucher 
had  admirers  and  imitators,  and  the  nation 
seemed  to  be  reviving  from  the  consterna- 
tion inflicted  by  the  defeat  of  Jena.  The 
celebrated  Schill,  a  partizan  of  great  cour- 
age and  address,  had  gained  many  advanta- 
ges, and  was  not  unlikely,  in  a  nation  bred 
to  arms,  to  acquire  the  command  of  a  numer- 
ous body  of  men.  Hesse,  Hanover,  Bruns- 
wick, and  the  other  provinces  of  Germany, 
deprived  of  their  ancient  princes,  and  sub- 
jected to  heavy  exactions  by  the  conquerors, 
were  ripe  for  insurrection.  All  these  dan- 
gers were  of  a  nature  from  which  little 
could  be  apprehended  while  the  Grand  Ar- 
my was  at  a  moderate  distance  ;  but  were 
it  to  advance  into  Russia,  especially  were 
it  to  meet  with  a  check  there,  these 
sparks  of  fire,  left  in  the  rear,  might  be  ex- 
pected to  kindle  a  dreadful  conflagration. 

Moved  by  such  considerations.  Napoleon 
had  fully  kept  open  the  door  for  reconcilia- 
tion betwixt  the  Czar  and  himself,  abstain- 
ing from  all  those  personal  reflections 
against  him,  which  he  usually  showered 
upon  those  who  thwarted  his  projects,  and 
intimating  more  than  once,  by  different 
modes  of  communication,  that  a  peace, 
which  should  enable  Russia  and  France  to 
divide  the  world  betwixt  them,  should  be 
placed  within  Alexander's  reach  so  soon 
as  he  was  disposed  to  ac<;ept  it. 

The  time  was  now  arrived  when  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia  was  disposed  to  listen  to 
terms  of  accommodation  with  France.  He 
had  been  for  some  time  dissatisfied  with 
his  allies.  Against  Frederick  William,  in- 
deed, nothing  could  be  objected,  save  his 
bad  fortune  ;  but  what  is  it  that  so  soon  de- 
prives us  of  our  friends  as  a  constant  train 
of  bad  luck,  rendering  us  alwavs  a  burthen 
more  than  an  aid  to  iliem  ?  The  King  of 
Sweden  was  a  feeble  ally  at  best,  and  had 
become  so  unpopular  with  his  subjects,  that 
his  dethronement  was  anticipated  ;  and  it 
was  probablv  remembered,  that  the  Swedish 
province  of  Finland  extended  so  near  to  .St. 
Petersburgh,  as  to  Le  a  desirable  acquisition, 
which,  in  the  course  of  a  treat>'  with  Buona- 
parte, might  be  easily  attained. 

The  principal  ally  of  the  Czar  had  beej| 


458 


LIFE  OF  N-VTOLEON  liUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


Britain.  But  he  was  displeased,  as  we  have 
already  noticed,  with  the  economy  of  the 
English  cabinet,  who  had  declined,  in  his  in- 
stance, the  loans  and  subsidies,  of  which  they 
used  to  be  liberal  to  allies  of  far  less  impor- 
tance. A  subsidy  of  about  eighty  thousand 
pounds  was  all  which  he  had  been  able  to  ex- 
tract from  them.  England  had,  indeed,  sent 
aa  army  into  the  north  to  join  the  Swedes, 
in  forming  the  siege  of  Stralsund  ;  but  this 
was  too  distant  an  operation  to  produce  any 
effect  upon  the  Polish  campaign.  Alexan- 
der was  also  affected  by  the  extreme  suffer- 
ings of  his  subjects.  His  army  had  beea  to 
him,  aa  to  most  young  sovereigns,  a  particu- 
lar object  of  attention;  and  he  was  justly 
proud  of  his  noble  regiments  of  Guards, 
which,  maltreated  as  they  had  been  in  the 
desperate  actions  of  which  we  have  given 
some  account,  remained  scarce  the  shadow 
of  themselves,  in  numbers  and  appearance. 
His  fame,  moreover,  suffered  little  in  with- 
drawing from  a  contest  in  which  he  was  en- 
gaged as  an  auxiliary  only,  and  Alexander  was 
no  doubt  made  to  comprehend,  that  he  migjht 
do  more  in  behalf  of  the  King  of  Prussia, 
his  ally,  by  negotiation  than  by  continuation 
of  the  war.  The  influence  of  Napoleon's 
name,  and  the  extraordinary  splendour  of  his 
talents  and  his  exploits,  must  also  have  had 
an  effect  upon  the  youthful  imagination  of 
the  Prussian  Emperor.  He  might  be  allow- 
ed to  feel  pride  (high  as  his  own  situation 
was)  that  the  Destined  Victor,  who  had  sub- 
dued so  many  princes,  was  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge an  equality  in  his  case  ;  and  he 
might  not  yet  be  so  much  aware  of  the 
nature  of  ambition,  as  to  know  that  it  holds 
the  world  as  inadequate  to  maintain  two  co- 
ordinate sovereigns. 

The  Russian  Emperor's  wish  of  an  armis- 
tice was  first  hinted  at  by  Bennigsen,  on 
the  21st  of  June,  was  ratified  on  the  23d  of 
the  same  month,  and  was  soon  afterwards 
followed,  not  only  by  peace  with  Russia 
and  Prussia,  on  a  basis  which  seemed  to 
preclude  the  possibility  of  future  misunder- 
standing, but  by  the  formation  of  a  personal 
intimacy  and  friendship  between  Napoleon 
and  the  only  sovereign  in  Europe,  who  had 
the  poNver  necessary  to  treat  with  him  on 
an  equal  footing. 

The  negotiation  for  this  important  pacifi- 
cation was  not  conducted  in  the  usual  style 
of  diplomacy,  but  in  that  which  Napoleon 
had  repeatedly  shown  a  desire  to  substitute 
for  the  conferences  of  inferior  agents,  by 
the  intervention,  namely,  of  the  high-con- 
tracting parties  in  person. 

The  armistice  was  no  sooner  agreed  upon, 
than  preparations  were  made  for  a  personal 
interview  betwixt  the  two  Emperors.  It 
took  place  upon  a  raft  prepared  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  moored  in  the  midst  of  the  river 
Niemen,  which  bote  an  immense  tent  or 
pavilion.  At  half  past  nine,  25th  June  1807, 
the  two  Emperors,  in  the  midst  of  thou- 
sands of  spectators,  embarked  at  the  same 
moment  from  the  opposite  banks  of  the 
river.  Buonaparte  was  attended  by  Murat, 
Berthier,  Bessieres,  Duroc.  and  Caulain- 
court  •,  Alexander,  by  his  brother  the  Arch- 
duke Constantine,  Generals  Bennigsen  and 


Ouwarow.with  the  Count  de  Lieven,  one 
of  his  aides-de-camp.  Arriving  on  the  raft, 
they  disembarked  and  embraced  amid  the 
shouts  and  acclamations  of  both  armies, 
and  entering  the  pavilion  which  had  been 
prepared,  held  a  private  conference  of  two 
hours.  Their  officers,  who  remained  at  a 
distance  during  the  interview,  were  then 
reciprocally  introduced,  and  the  fullest 
good  understanding  seemed  to  be  establish- 
ed between  the  sovereigns,  who  had  at 
their  disposal  so  great  a  portion  of  the  uni- 
verse. It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  that  on  this 
momentous  occasion  Napoleon  exerted  all 
those  personal  powers  of  attraction,  which, 
exercised  on  the  part  of  one  otherwise  so 
distinguished,  rarely  failed  to  acquire  the 
good-will  of  all  with  whom  he  had  inter- 
course, when  he  was  disposed  to  employ 
them.*  He  possessed  also,  in  an  emi- 
nent degree,  the  sort  of  eloquence  which 
can  make  the  worse  appear  the  better  rea- 
son, and  which,  turning  into  ridicule  the 
arguments  derived  from  general  principles 
of  morality  or  honesty,  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  term  idiosyncrasy,  makes  all  rea-- 
soning  rest  upon  existing  circumstances. 
Thus,  all  the  maxims  of  truth  and  honour 
might  be  plausibly  parried  by  those  arising 
out  of  immediate  convenience  ;  and  the 
direct  interest,  or  what  seemed  the  direct  in- 
terest, of  the  party  whom  he  wished  to  gain 
over,  was  put  in  immediate  opposition  to 
the  dictates  of  moral  sentiment,  and  of 
princely  virtue.  In  this  manner  he  might 
plausibly  represent,  in  many  points,  that 
the  weal  of  Alexander's  empire  might  re- 
quire him  to  strain  some  of  the  maxims  of 
truth  and  justice,  and  to  do  a  little  wrong 
in  order  to  attain  a  great  national  advan- 
tage. 

The  town  of  Tilsit  was  now  declared 
neutral.  Entertainments  of  every  kind  fol- 
lowed each  other  in  close  succession,  and 
the  French  and  Russian,  nay,  even  the 
Prussian  officers,  seemed  so  delighted  with 
each  other's  society,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
conceive  that  men,  so  courteous  and  amia- 
ble, had  been  for  so  many  months  drenching 
trampled  snows  and  muddy  wastes  with 
each  otRer's  blood.  The  two  Emperors 
were  constantly  together  in  public  and  in 
private,  and  on  those  occasions  their  inti- 
macy approached  to  the  character  of  that 
of  two  young  men  of  rank,  who  are  com- 
rades in  sport  or  frolic,  as  well  as  accus- 
tomed to  be  associates  in  affairs,  and  upon 
occasions,  of  graver  moment.  They  are 
well  known  to  have  had  private  and  confi- 
dential meetings,  where  gaiety  and  even 
gallantrv  seemed  to  be  the  sole  purpose, 


*  The  imprrssion  which  Ruonaparte's  presenca 
anil  conversation,  aided  by  the  jire-conceived  ideas 
of  liis  talent<!,  maMe  on  all  who  approached  k'« 
person,  was  of  the  most  atrikinj  kind.  The  cap- 
tain of  a  British  man-of-war,  who  was  present  at 
Ilia  occupying  the  island  of  Elba,  disturbed  on  that 
occasion  the  solemnity  and  gravity  of  a  leveo,  at 
which  several  British  functionaries  attended,  by 
hearing  a  homely,  but  certainly  a  striking  testi- 
mony to  his  powers  of  attraction,  while  lie  ex- 
claimed, that  "  Bony  was  a  d— d  g.)od  fellow,  aftac 
I  all'" 


Chap.  LI  v.] 


LIFE  OF  iS'.\POLEOi\  BUONAPARTE. 


459 


but  where  politics  were  not  entirely  forgot- 
ten. 

Upon  the  more  public  occasions, there  were 
gueSts  at  the  imperial  festivities,  for  which 
they  contamed  small  mirth.  On  the  23th, 
the  unfortunate  King  of  Prussia  arrived  at 
Tilsit,  and  was  presented  to  his  formidable 
victor.  Buonaparte  did  not  admit  him  to 
the  footing  of  equality  on  which  he  treated 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  and  made  an  early 
intimation,  that  it  would  only  be  for  the 
purpose  of  obliging  his  brother  of  the 
North,  that  he  might  consent  to  relax  his 
grasp  on  the  Prussian  territories.  Those 
in  the  King's  own  possession  were  reduced 
to  the  petty  territory  of  Memel,  with  the 
foi  tresses  of  Colberg  and  Graudentz.  It 
was  soon  plain,  that  the  terms  on  which  he 
was  to  be  restored  to  a  part  of  his  dominions, 
would  deprive  Prussia  of  almost  all  the  ac- 
cessions which  had  been  made  since  1773, 
under  the  svsteni  and  by  the  talents  of  the 
Great  Fre(ierick,  and  reduce  her  at  once 
from  a  first-rate  power  in  Europe  to  one  of 
the  second  class. 

The  beautiful  and  unfortunate  Queen, 
whose  high  spirit  had  hastened  the  war, 
was  anxious,  if  possible,  to  interfere  with 
such  weight  as  female  intercession  might 
use  to  diminish  the  calamities  of  the  peace. 
It  was  but  on  the  first  day  of  the  foregoing 
April,  that  when  meeting  the  Emperor 
Alexander  at  Konigsberg,  and  feeling  the 
full  differeocp  betwixt  that  interview,  and 
those  at  Berlin  which  preceded  the  war, 
Alexander  and  Frederick  William  had  re- 
mained locked  for  a  time  in  each  other's 
arms;  the  former  shedding  tears  of  com- 
passion, the  latter  of  grief  On  the  same 
occasion,  the  Queen,  as  she  saluted  the 
Emperor,  could  only  utter  amidst  her  tears 
the  words.  "  Dear  cousin '."  intimating  at 
once  the  depth  of  their  distress,  and  their 
affectionate  confidence  in  the  magnanimity 
of  their  ally.  This  scene  was  melancholy, 
but  that  wliich  succeeded  it  at  Tilsit  was 
more  so,  for  it  was  embittered  by  degrada- 
tion. The  Queen,  who  arrived  at  the  place 
of  treaty  some  days  after  her  husband,  was 
now  not  only  to  support  the  presence  of 
Napoleon,  in  whose  official  prints  she  was 
personally  abused,  and  who  was  the  author 
of  all  the  misfortunes  which  had  befallen 
her  country  ;  but  if  she  would  in  any  de- 
gree repair  these  misfortunes,  it  could  only 
be  by  exciting  his  compassion,  and  propiti- 
ating his  favour.  "Forgive  us,"  she  said, 
•  this  fatal  war — the  memory  of  the  Great 
Frederick  deceived  us — we  thought  our- 
selves his  equals  because  we  are  his  de- 
scendants— alas,  we  have  not  proved  such  ! " 
With  a  zeal  for  the  welfare  of  Prussia, 
which  must  have  cost  her  own  feelings  ex- 
quisite pain,  she  used  towards  Napoleon 
,  those  arts  of  insinuation,  by  which  women 
j  possessed  of  high  rank,  great  beauty,  wit, 
1  and  grace,  frequently  exercise  an  important 
'  influence.  Desirous  to  pay  his  court.  Na- 
poleon on  one  occasion  offered  her  a  rose 
1  of  uncommon  beauty.  The  Queen  at  first 
■  seemed  to  decline  receiving  the  courtesy 
— then  accepted  it,  adding  the  stipulation 
j — "  .\t   least  with   Magdedurg."      Buona- 


parte, as  he  boasted  to  Josephine,  was 
proof  against  these  lady-like  artifices,  as 
wax-cloth  is  against  rain.  "Your  Majesty 
will  be  pleased  to  remember,"  he  said, 
"  that  it  is  I  who  offer,  and  that  your  Majes- 
ty has  only  the  task  of  accepting." 

It  was  discourteous  to  remind  the  un- 
fortunate princess  how  absolutely  she  was 
at  the  mercy  of  the  victor,  and  unchival- 
rous  to  dispute  that  a  lady,  accepting  a 
courtesy,  has  a  right  to  conceive  herself  as 
conferring  an  obligation,  and  is  therefore 
entitled  to  annex  a  condition.  But  it  is 
true,  on  the  other  hand,  as  Napoleon  him- 
self urged,  that  it  would  have  been  playing 
the  gallant  at  a  high  price,  if  he  had  ex- 
changed towns  and  provinces  in  return  for 
civilities.  It  is  not  believed  that  the  Queen 
of  Prussia  succeeded  to  any  extent  in  ob- 
taining a  modification  of  the  terms  to  which 
her  husband  was  subjected  ;  and  it  is  cer- 
tain, that  she  felt  so  deeply  the  distress  into 
which  her  country  was  plunged,  that  her 
sense  of  it  brought  her  to  an  untimely 
grave.  The  death  of  this  interesting  and 
beautiful  Queen,  not  only  powerfully  af- 
fected the  mind  of  her  husband  and  family, 
but  the  Prussian  nation  at  large  ;  who,  re- 
garding her  as  having  died  a  victim  to  licr 
patriotic  sorrow  for  the  national  misfor- 
tunes, recorded  her  fate  as  one  of  the 
many  injuries,  for  which  they  were  to  call 
France  and  Napoleon  to  a  severe  accomot- 
ing. 

The  terms  imposed  on  Prussia  by  the 
treaty  of  Tilsit,  were  brieriy  these  : — 

That  portion  of  Poland  acquired  by  Prus- 
sia in  the  partition  of  1772,  was  disunited 
from  that  kingdom,  and  erected  into  a 
separate  territory,  to  be  called  the  Great 
Duchy  of  Warsaw.  It  was  to  be  held  by 
the  King  of  Saxony,  under  the  character  of 
Grand  Duke  ;  and  it  was  stipulated  that  he 
was  to  have  direct  communication  with  this 
new  acquisition  by  means  of  a  military 
road  across  Silesia,  a  privilege  likely  to  oc- 
casion constant  jealousy  betwixt  the  courts 
of  Berlin  and  Warsaw.  Thus  ended  the 
hope  of  the  Poles  to  be  restored  to  tUe 
condition  of  an  independent  nation.  They 
merely  exchanged  the  dominion  of  one 
German  master  for  another — Prussia  for 
Saxony,  Frederick  William  for  .Augustus — 
the  only  difference  being,  that  the  latter 
was  descended  from  the  ancient  Kings  of 
Poland.  They  were,  however,  subjected 
to  a  milder  and  more  easy  yoke  than  that 
which  they  had  iiitherto  borne  ;  nor  does 
it  appear  that  the  King  (as  he  liad  been  cre- 
ated) of  Saxony  derived  any  real  addition  of 
authority  and  consequence  from  the  Grand 
Duchy  of  Warsaw,  It  seems  indeed  prob- 
able, that  the  erection  of  this  sovereignty 
was  the  effr-ct  of  a  composition  bet\ver-K 
the  Emperors;  Napoleon  on  the  one  hand, 
renouncing  all  attempts  at  the  liberation  of 
Poland,  which  he  could  not  have  persever- 
ed in  without  continuinr  the  u;ir  with  Rus- 
sia, and  perhaps  with  .\ustria  also;  an. I 
.Alexander  consenting  that  Prussia  should 
be  deprived  of  her  Polish  dominion?,  im. 
der  the  stipulation  that  they  were  to  be 
transferred  to  Saxony,  from  whose  vicinj 


460 


LIFE  OF  -\.\POLi:ON  CL'OiVAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


ty  his  empire   could  apprehend  little  dan- 
ger. 

The  constitution  arranged  for  the  Grand 
Duchy,  also,  was  such  as  was  not  liable  to 
lead  to  disturbances  among  those  provinces 
of  Poland  which  were  united  with  Austria 
and  Russia.  Slavery  was  abolished,  and  the 
equality  of  legal  rights  among  all  ranks  of 
citizens  was  acknowledged.  The  (irand 
Duke  held  the  executive  power.  A  Senate, 
or  Upper  House,  of  eighteen  members,  and 
a  Lower  House  of  Nuncios,  or  Deputies, 
amounting  to  a  hundred,  passed  into  laws, 
w  rejected  at  their  pleasure,  such  proposi- 
tions as  the  Duke  laid  before  them.  But 
the  Diets,  the  Pospolite,  the  Liberum  Veto, 
and  all  the  other  turbulent  privileges  of  the 
Polish  Nobles,  continued  abolished,  as  they 
had  been  under  the  Prussian  government. 

Buonaparte  made  it  his  boast  that  he  had 
returned  the  Prussian  territories  not  to  the 
House  of  Brandenburgh,  but  to  Alexander; 
so  that  if  Frederick  William  yet  reigned,  it 
was  only,  he  said,  by  the  friendship  of  Alex- 
ander,— "  a  term,"  he  added,  •'  which  he 
himself  did  not  recognize  in  the  vocabulary 
of  sovereigns,  under  the  head  of  state  af- 
fairs." Alexander,  however,  was  not  alto- 
gether so  disinterested,  as  Buonaparte,  with 
something  like  a  sneer,  thus  seemed  to 
insinuate.  There  was  excepted  from  the 
Grand  Duchy  of  Warsaw,  and  added  to  the 
territory  of  Russia  at  the  expense  of  Prus- 
sia, the  Province  of  Bialystock,  serving  ma- 
terially to  improve  the  frontier  of  the  em- 
pire. Thus  the  Czar,  in  some  degree,  pro- 
fited by  the  distress  of  his  ally.  The  apol- 
ogy for  his  conduct  must  rest,  first,  on  the 
strength  of  tlie  temptation  to  stretch  his  em- 
pire towards  the  Vistula,  as  a  great  natural 
boundary  ;  secondly,  on  the  plea,  that  if  he 
had  declined  the  acquisition  from  a  point 
of  delicacy,  Saxony,  not  Prussia,  would  have 
profited  by  his  self-denial,  as  the  territory 
of  Bialystock  would  in  that  event  have  gone 
to  augment  the  Duchy  of  Warsaw.  Russia 
ceded  the  Lordship  of  Jever  to  Holland,  as 
an  ostensible  compensation  for  her  new  ac- 
quisition. 

Dantzic,  with  a  certain  surrounding  terri- 
tory, was  by  the  treaty  of  Tilsit  recognized 
as  a  free  city,  under  the  protection  of  Prus- 
sia and  Saxony.  There  can  be  little  doubt, 
that  the  further  provision,  that  France 
should  occupy  the  town  until  the  conclusion 
of  a  maritime  peace,  was  intended  to  se- 
cure for  the  use  of  Napoleon  a  place  of 
arms,  so  important  in  case  of  a  new  breach 
betwixt  him  and  Russia. 

It  followed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  and  the  King  of 
Prussia,  ratified  all  the  changes  which  Na- 
poleon had  wrought  on  Europe,  acknowl- 
edged ',he  thrones  wliich  he  had  erected, 
and  recognized  the  leagues  which  he  had 
formed.  On  the  other  liaud,  out  of  defer- 
ence to  the  Emperor.  Buonaparte  consent- 
ed that  the  Dukes  of  .Saxe-Cobourg,  Olden- 
burg, and  Mecklenburg-Schwerin,  German 
Princes  connected  with  Alfxander,  should 
remain  in  possession  of  their  territories  ; 
the  French,  however,  continuing  to  occupy 
the  sea-ports  of  the  two  countries  last  nani- 


i  ed,  until  a  final  peace  betwixt  France  and 
England. 
I  AVhile  these  important  negotiations  were 
I  proceeding,  a  radical  change  took  place  in 
the  councils  of  the  British  nation  ;  what 
was  called  the  Fox  and  Grenville  adminis- 
tration being  dissolved,  and  their  place  sup- 
plied by  one  formed  under  the  auspices  of 
the  Duke  of  Portland,  and  comprehending 
Lords  Liverpool,  Castlereagh,  Mr.  Cannincf, 
and  other  statesmen,  professing  the  princi- 
ples of  the  late  William  Pitt.  It  was  an 
anxious  object  with  the  new  cabinet  to  re- 
concile the  Czar  to  the  alliance  of  England, 
and  atone  for  the  neglect  with  which  ho 
considered  himself  as  having  been  treated 
by  their  predecessors.  With  this  purpose, 
Lord  Leveson  Gower  (now  Lord  Viscount 
Granville)  was  despatched,  with  power  to 
make  such  offers  of  conciliation  as  might 
maintain  or  renew  an  amicable  intercourse 
between  Britain  and  Russia.  But  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  had  taken  his  part,  at  least, 
for  the  present ;  and,  being  pre-determined 
to  embrace  the  course  recommended  by  his 
new  ally  Buonaparte,  he  avoided  giving  au- 
dience to  the  British  ambassador,  and  took 
his  .measures  at  Tilsit,  without  listening  to 
the  offers  of  accommodation  which  Lord 
Gower  was  empowered  to  propose. 

By  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  so  far  as  made 
public,  Russia  offered  her  mediation  be- 
twixt Britain  and  France,  on  condition  that 
the  first-named  kingdom  should  accept  the 
proffer  of  her  interference  within  a  month. 
So  far,  therefore,  the  Czar  appeared  to  a 
certain  extent  careful  of  the  interest  of  his 
late  ally.  But  it  is  now  perfectly  well  un- 
derstood, that  among  other  private  articles 
of  this  memorable  treaty,  tliere  existed  one, 
by  which  the  Emperor  bound  himself,  in 
case  of  Britain's  rejecting  the  proposed  me- 
diation, to  recognize  and  enforce  what  Buo- 
naparte called  the  Continental  System,  by 
shutting  his  ports  against  British  vessels, 
and  engaging  the  Northern  Courts  in  anew 
coalition,  having  for  its  object  the  destruc- 
tion of  English  maritime  superiority.  In  a 
word,  the  armed  Northern  Neutrality,  ori- 
ginally formed  under  the  auspices  of  Cathe- 
rine, and  in  an  evil  hour  adopted  by  the  un- 
fortunate Paul,  was  again  to  be  established 
under  the  authority  of  Alexander.  Denmark, 
smarting  under  the  recollections  of  the 
battle  of  Copenhagen,  only  waited,  it  was 
thought^  the  signal  to  join  such  a  coalition, 
and  would  willingly  consent  to  lend  her  still 
powerful  navy  to  its  support ;  and  Sweden 
was  in  too  weak  and  distracted  a  state  to 
resist  the  united  will  of  France  and  Russia, 
either  regarding  war  with  Britain,  or  anv 
other  stipulations  which  it  might  be  intend- 
ed to  impose  upon  her.  But  as  there  is  no 
country  of  Europe  to  which  the  commerce 
of  England  is  so  beneficial  as  Russia,  whose 
gross  produce  she  purchases  almost  exclo- 
sively,  it  was  necessary  to  observe  strict 
secrecy  upon  these  further  objects.  The 
ostensible  proposal  of  mediation  was  there- 
fore resorted  to,  less  in  the  hope,  perhaps, 
of  establishing  peace  betwixt  France  and 
England,  than  in  the  expectation  of  afford- 
ing a  pretext,  which  might  justify   in  the 


Chap.  LI  V.} 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


461 


eye  of  the  Russian  nation  a  rupture  with  the 
latter  power.  But,  in  spite  of  every  pre- 
caution which  could  be  adopted,  the  address 
of  the  Britisli  ambassador  obtained  posses- 
sion of  the  secret  which  France  and  Russia 
deemed  it  so  important  to  conceal ;  and 
Lord  Gower  was  able  to  transmit  to  his 
court  an  exact  account  of  this  secret  arti- 
cle, and  particularly  of  the  two  Emperors 
having  resolved  to  employ  the  Danish  fleet 
in  the  destruction  of  tiie  maritime  rights  of 
Britain,  which  had  been  so  lately  put  upon 
a  footing,  that,  to  Alexander  at  least,  had  till 
his  recent  fraternization  with  Buonaparte, 
Beemed  entirely  satisfactory. 

There  were  no  doubt  other  secret  arti-' 
clea  named  in  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  by  which 
it  seems  to  have  been  the  object  of  these 
two  great  Emperors,  as  they  loved  to  term 
themselves,  of  the  North  and  of  the  South, 
to  divide  the  civilized  world  between  them. 
It  may  be  regarded  as  certain,  that  Buona- 
parte opened  to  Alexander  the  course  of 
unprincipled  policy  which  he  intended  to 
pursue  respecting  the  kingdom  of  Spain,  and 
procured  nis  acquiescence  in  that  daring 
usurpation.  And  it  nas  been  afiirmed,  that 
he  also  stipulated  for  the  aid  of  Russia  to 
take  Gibraltar,  to  recover  Malta  and  f>gypt, 
and  to  banish  the  British  flag  from  the  Med- 
iterranean. All  these  enterprises  were 
more  or  less  directly  calculated  to  the  de- 
pression, or  rather  the  destruction  of  Great 
Britain,  the  only  formidable  enemy  who 
etill  maintained  ihe  strife  against  France, 
and  so  far  the  promised  co-operation  of  Rus- 
sia must  have  been  in  the  highest  degree 
grateful  to  Napoleon.  But  Alexander,  how- 
ever much  lie  might  be  Buonaparte's  per- 
sonal admirer,  did  not  follow  his  father's 
simplicity  in  becoming  his  absolute  dupe, 
but  took  care,  in  return  for  his  compliance 
with  the  distant,  and  in  some  degree  vis- 
ionary projects  of  Buonaparte's  ambition, 
ito  exact  his  countenance  and  co-operation 
iin  gaining  certain  acquisitions  of  the  high- 
est importance  to  Russia,  and  which  were 
found  at  a  future  period  to  have  added  pow- 
erfully to  her  means  of  defence  when  she 
once  more  matched  her  strength  with  that 
of  France.  To  explain  this,  we  must  look 
back  to  the  ancient  policy  of  France  and  of 
Europe,  when,  by  supporting  the  weaker 
states,  and  maintaining  their  independence, 
it  was  the  object  to  prevent  the  growth  of 
any  gigantic  and  overbearing  power,  who 
might  derange  the  balance  of  the  civilized 
world. 

The  growing  strength  of  Russia  used  in 
former  times  to  be  the  natural  subject  of 
jealousy  to  the  French  government,  and 
they  endeavoured  to  counterbalance  these 
apprehensions  by  extending  the  protection 
of  France  to  the  two  weaker  neighbours  of 
I  Russia,  the  Porte  and  the  kingdom  of  Swe- 
Iden,  with  which  powers  it  had  always  been 
Ithe  policy  of  France  to  connect  herself, 
jand  which  connexion  was  not  only  hon- 
ourable to  that  kingdom,  but  useful  to  Eu- 
rope. But  at  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  and  in 
I  Buonaparte's  subsequent  conduct  relating 
to  these  powers,  he  lost  sight  of  this  nation- 


al policy,  or  rather  sacrificed  it  to  his  own 
personal  objects. 

One  of  the  most  important  private  articles 
of  the  treaty  of  Tilsit  seems  to  have  provid- 
ed, that  Sweden  should  be  despoiled  of 
her  provinces  of  Finland  in  favour  of  the 
Czar,  and  be  thus,  with  the  consent  of  Buo- 
naparte, deprived  of  all  effectual  means  of 
annoying  Russia.  A  single  glance  at  the 
map  will  show,  how  completely  the  pos- 
session of  Finland  put  a  Swedish  army,  or 
the  army  of  France  as  an  ally  of  Sweden, 
wiiiiin  a  short  march  of  St.  Petersburgh  ; 
and  liow,  by  consenting  to  Sweden's  being 
stripped  of  that  important  province.  Napo- 
leon relinquished  the  grand  advantage  to  be 
derived  from  it,  in  case  of  his  ever  being 
again  obliged  to  contend  with  Russia  upon 
Russian  ground.  Yet  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  that  at  the  treaty  of  Tilsit  he  became 
privy  to  the  war  which  Russia  shortly  after 
waged  against  Sweden,  in  which  Alexander 
deprived  that  ancient  kingdom  of  her  fron- 
tier province  of  Finland,  and  thereby  ob- 
tained a  covering  territory  of  the  last  and 
most  important  consequence  to  his  own 
capital. 

The  Porte  was  no  less  made  a  sacrifice 
to  the  inordinate  anxiety,  which,  at  the  trea- 
ty of  Tilsit,  Puonaparte  seems  to  liave  en- 
tertained, for  acquiring  at  any  price  the  ac- 
cession of  Russia  to  his  extravagant  desire 
of  destroying  England.  By  the  public  trea- 
ty, indeed,  some  care  seems  to  have  been 
taken  of  the  interests  of  Turkey,  since  it 
provides  that  Turkey  was  to  have  the 
benefit  of  peace  under  the  mediation  of 
France,  and  that  Russia  was  to  evacuate 
Moldavia  and  Wallachia,  for  the  acquisition 
of  which  she  was  then  waging  an  unprovok- 
ed war.  But  by  the  secret  agreement  of 
the  two  Emperors,  it  was  unquestionably 
understood,  that  Turkey  in  Europe  was  to 
be  placed  at  the  mercy  of  Alexander,  as 
forming  naturally  a  part  of  the  Russian  Em- 
pire, as  Spain,  Portugal,  and  perhaps  Great 
Britain,  were,  from  local  position,  destined 
to  become  provinces  of  France.  At  the 
subsequent  Congress  betwixt  the  Emperors 
at  Erfurt,  their  measures  against  the  Porte 
we-e  more  fully  adjusted. 

It  may  seem  strange,  that  the  shrewd  and 
jealous  Napoleon  should  have  suffered  him- 
self to  be  so  much  over-reached  in  his  trea- 
ty with  Alexander,  since  the  benefits  stipu- 
lated for  France,  in  the  treaty  of  Tilsit, 
were  in  a  great  measure  vague,  and  subjects 
of  hope  rather  than  certainty.  The  British 
naval  force  was  not  easily  to  be  subdued — 
Gibraltar  and  Malta  are  as  strong  fortress.es 
as  the  world  can  exhibit — the  conquest  of 
Spain  was  at  least  a  doubtful  undertaking, 
if  the  last  war  of  the  Succession  was  care- 
fully considered.  But  the  Russian  objects 
were  nearer,  and  were  within  her  grasp 
Finland  was  seized  on  with  little  difficulty, 
nor  did  the  conquest  even  of  Constantino- 
ple possess  anything  very  difficult,  to  a  Rus- 
sian army,  if  unopposed  save  by  the  undis- 
ciplined forces  of  the  Turkish  empire. 
Thus  it  is  evident,  that  Napoleon  exchang- 
ed for  distant  and  contingent  prospects,  his 


462 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LIV. 


acquiescence  in  the  Russian  objects,  which 
were  near,  essential,  and,  in  comparison,  of 
easy  attainment.  Tlie  effect  of  this  policy 
we  shall  afterwards  advert  to.  Meanwhile, 
the  two  most  ancient  allies  of  France,  am! 
who  were  of  the  greatest  political  impor- 
tance to  her  in  case  of  a  second  war  with 
Russia,  were  most  unwisely  abandoned  to 
the  mercy  of  that  power,  wlio  failed  not  to 
despoil  Sweden  of  Finland,  and,  but  for 
intervening  causes,  would  probably  have 
seized  upon  Constantinople  with  the  same 
ease. 

If  the  reader  should  wonder  how  Buona- 
parte, able  and  astucious  as  he  was,  came  to 
be  over-reached  in  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  we 
believe  the  secret  may  be  found  in  a  piece 
of  private  history.  Even  at  that  early  period 
Napoleon  nourished  the  idea  of  fi.'fing,  as 
he  supposed,  the  fate  of  his  own  family, 
or  dynasty,  by  connecting  it  by  marriage 
with  the  blood  of  one  of  the  established 
monarchies  of  Europe.  He  had  hopes, 
even  then,  that  he  might  obtain  the  hand 
of  one  of  the  Archduchesses  of  Russia,  nor 
did  the  Emperor  throw  any  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  the  scheme.  It  is  well  known  that 
his  suit  was  afterwards  disappointed  by  the 
Empress  Mother,  who  pleaded  the  differ- 
ence of  religion  ;  but  at  the  time  of  the  treaty 
of  Tilsit,Napoleon  was  actually  encouraged, 
or  deceived  himself  into  an  idea  that  he  re- 
ceived encouragement,  to  form  a  perpetual 
family-conne.\ion  with  Russia.  This  induc- 
ed him  to  deal  easily  with  Alexander  in 
the  matters  which  they  had  to  discuss  to- 
gether, and  to  act  the  generous,  almost  the 
prodigal  friend.  And  this  also  seems  to 
have  been  the  reason  why  Napoleon  fre- 
quently complained  of  Alexander's  insin- 
cerity, and  often  termed  him  The  Greek, 
according  to  the  Italian  sense  of  the  name, 
which  signifies  a  trickster,  or  deceiver. 

But  we  must  return  from  the  secret  ar- 
ticles of  the  Tilsit  treaty,  which  opened 
Buch  long  vistas  in  futurity,  to  the  indis- 
putable and  direct  consequences  of  that 
remarkable  measure. 

The  treaty  betwixt  Russia  and  France 
was  signed  upon  the  7th — that  betwixt 
France  and  Prussia  on  the  9th  July.  Fred- 
erick William  published  upon  the  24-th  of 
the  same  month  one  of  the  most  dignified 
and  at  the  same  time  the  most  affecting 
proclamations,  that  ever  expressed  the  grief 
of  an  unfortunate  sovereign. 

"  Dear  inhabitants  of  faithful  provinces, 
districts,  and  towns,"  said  this  most  inter- 
esting document,  "  my  arms  have  been  un- 
fortunate. The  efforts  o*"  the  relics  of  my 
army  have  been  of  no  avail.  Driven  to 
the  extreme  boundaries  of  my  empire,  and 
having  seen  my  powerful  ally  conclude  an 
armistice,  and  sign  a  peace,  no  choice 
remained  for  me  save  to  follow  his  exam- 
ple. That  peace  was  necessarily  purchas- 
ed upon  terms  corresponding  to  imperious 
circumstances.  It  has  imposed  on  me, 
and  on  my  house — it  has  imposed  upon 
the  whole  country,  the  most  painful  sacri- 
fices. The  bou.nd3  of  treaties,  the  recipro- 
calities  of  love  and  duty,  the  work  of  ages, 
have   been   broken  asunder.      My   efforts 


have  proved  in  vain.  Fate  ordains  it  and 
a  father  parts  from  his  children.  I  re- 
lease you  completely  from  your  alle- 
giance to  myself  and  to  my  house.  My 
most  ardent  prayers  for  your  welfare  will 
always  attend  you  in  your  relations  to  your 
new  sovereign.  Be  to  him  what  you  have 
ever  been  to  me.  Neither  force  nor  fate 
shall  ever  efface  the  remembrance  of  you 
from  my  heart." 

To  trace  the  triumphant  return  of  the 
victor  is  a  singular  contrast  to  those  melan- 
choly effusions  of  the  vanquished  monarch. 
The  treaty  of  Tilsit  had  ended  all  appearance 
of  opposition  to  France  upon  the  continent. 
The  British  armament,  which  had  been 
sent  to  Pomeraniatoo  late  in  the  campaign, 
was  re-embarked,  and  the  King  of  Sweden, 
evacuating  Stralsund,  retired  to  the  domin- 
ions which  he  was  not  very  long  destined 
to  call  his  own.  After  having  remained 
together  for  twenty  days,  during  which  they 
daily  maintained  the  most  friendly  inter- 
course, and  held  together  long  and  secret 
conferences,  the  two  Emperors  at  last  sep- 
arated, with  demonstrations  of  the  highest 
personal  esteem,  and  each  heaping  upon 
the  other  all  the  honours  which  it  was  in 
his  power  to  bestow.  The  Congress  broke 
up  on  the  9th  July  ;  and  on  his  return  to 
France,  Napoleon  visited  Saxony,  and  was 
there  met  at  Bautzen  (doomed  for  a  very 
different  reason  to  be  renowned  in  his  his- 
tory) by  King  Augustus,  who  received  him 
with  the  honours  due  to  one  who  had,  in 
outward  appearance  at  least,  augmented 
the  power  which  he  might  have  over- 
thrown. 

On  27th  July,  Napoleon,  restored  to  his 
palace  at  St.  Cloud,  received  the  homage 
of  the  Senate  and  other  official  and  consti- 
tutional bodies.  The  celebrated  naturalist 
Lacepede,  as  the  organ  of  the  former  body, 
made  a  pompous  enumeration  of  the  mira- 
cles of  the  campaign  ;  and  avowed  that  the 
accomplishment  of  such  wonderful  actions 
as  would  seemingly  have  required  ages, 
was  but  to  Napoleon  the  work  of  a  few 
months  ;  while  at  the  same  time  his  ruling 
genius  gave  motion  to  all  the  domestic 
administration  of  his  vast  empire,  and,  al- 
though four  hundred  leagues  distant  from 
the  capital,  was  present  with  and  observant 
of  the  most  complicate  as  well  as  extensive 
details.  "  We  cannot,"  concludes  the  ora- 
tor, •'  offer  to  your  Majesty  praises  worthy 
of  you.  Your  glory  is  too  much  raised 
above  us.  It  will  be  the  task  of  posterity, 
removed  at  a  distance  from  your  presence, 
to  estimate  with  greater  truth  its  real  degree 
of  elevation.  Enjoy,  sire,  the  recompense 
the  most  worthy  of  the  greatest  of  mon- 
arclis,  the  happiness  of  being  beloved  by 
the  greatest  of  nations,  and  may  our  great- 
grandchildren be  long  happy  under  your 
Majesty's  reign." 

So  spoke  the  President  of  the  French 
Senate  ;  and  who,  that  wished  to  retain  the 
name  of  a  rational  being,  dared  have  said, 
that  within  the  period  of  seven  years,  the 
same  Senate  would  be  carrying  to  "the  down- 
fallen  and  dejected  King  of  Prussia  their 
congratulations  on  his  share  in  the  over- 


CAop.  L  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


463 


throw  of  the  very  man,  whom  they  were 
BO  V  adoring  as  a  demigod  ! 

The  fortunes  and  fame  of  Napoleon  were, 
indeed,  such  as  to  excite  in  the  highest  de- 
gree the  veneration  with  which  men  look 
npon  talents  and  success.  All  opposition 
seen  ed  to  sink  before  him,  and  Fortune 
seemed  only  to  have  looked  doubtfully  up- 
on him  during  the  last  campaign,  in  order 
to  render  still  brighter  the  auspicious  aspect 
by  which  he  closed  it.  JMany  of  liis  most 
confirmed  enemies,  who,  from  their  proved 
attachment  to  the  House  of  Bourbon,  had 
secretly  disowned  the  authority  of  Buona- 
parte, and  doubted  the  continuance  of  his 
success,  when  they  saw  Prussia    lying  at 


his  feet,  and  Russia  clasping  his  hand  in 
friendship,  conceived  they  should  be  strug- 
gling against  the  decrees  of  Providence,  did 
they  longer  continue  to  resist  their  predes- 
tined master.  Austerlitz  had  shaken  their 
constancy  ;  Tilsit  destroyed  it :  and  with 
few  and  silent  exceptions,  the  vows,  hopes, 
and  wishes  of  France,  seemed  turned  on 
Napoleon  as  her  Heir  by  Destiny.  Perhaps 
he  himself,  only,  could  finally  have  disap- 
pointed their  expectations.  But  he  was 
like  the  adventurous  climber  on  tlie  .\lps, 
to  wliom  the  surmounting  the  most  tremen- 
dous precipices,  and  ascending  to  the  most 
towering  peaks,  only  shows  yet  dizzier 
heights  and  higher  points  of  elevation. 


CHAP.   Z.V. 

British  Expedition  to  Calabria,  under  Sir  John  Stuart.— Character  of  the  People. — 
Opposed  by  General  Reenter. — Battle  ofMaida,  6th  July  IS06.— Defeat  of  the  French. 
— Calabria  evacuated  by  the  British. — Erroneous  Commercial  Views,  and  Military 
Plans,  of  the  British  jlinistry. —  Unsuccessful  Attack  on  Buenos  Ayres. —  General 
Whitelocke—is  cashiered. — Expedition  against  Turkey,  and  its  Dependencies. — Ad- 
miral Duckworth's  Squadron  sent  against  Constantinople. — Passes  and  repasses  the 
Dardanelles,  without  accomplishing  any tuing.— Expedition  agaiiist  Alexandria.— It 
ia  occupied  by  General  Eraser. — Rosctta  attacked. — British  Troops  defeated — and 
withdrawn  from  Egypt,  September  IQOT. —Curaqoa  and  Cape  of  Good  Hope  taken 
by  England. — Assumption  of  more  energetic  Measures  on  the  part  of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment.— Expedition  against  Copenhagen — its  Causes  and  Objects — its  Citadel, 
Forts,  and  Fleet,  surrender  to  the  British.— Effects  of  this  Proceeding  upon  France— 
and  Russia. — Coalition  of  France.  Russia,  Au-Hria,  and  Prussia,  against  British 
Commerce. 


The  treaty  of  Tilsit  is  an  important  point 
IB  the  history  of  Napoleon.  At  no  time  did 
hia  power  seem  more  steadfastly  rooted, 
more  feebly  assailed.  The  canker-worm 
by  which  it  was  ultimately  to  be  destroyed, 
was,  like  that  of  the  forest-tree,  entrench- 
ed  and  hidden  in  the  bosom  of  him  whom  it 
was  destined  to  sap  and  consume.  It  is  a 
fitting  time,  therefore,  to  take  a  general  sur- 
vey of  the  internal  character  of  his  govern- 
ment, when  the  arrangements  seemed  to  be 
at  his  own  choice,  and  ere  misfortune,  hith- 
erto a  stranger,  dictated  his  course  of  pro- 
ceeding, which  had  before  experienced  no 
control  save  his  own  will.  We  propose, 
therefore,  in  the  next  chapter,  to  take  a 
brief  review  of  the  character  of  Buona- 
parte's government  during  this  the  most 
nourishing  period  of  his  power. 

But  ere  doing  so,  we  must  shortly  no- 
tice some  circumstances,  civil  and  military, 
which,  though  they  had  but  slight  immedi- 
ate effect  upon  the  general  current  of  events, 
yet  serve  to  illustrate  the  character  of  the 
parties  concerned,  and  to  explain  future 
incidents  whicli  were  followed  by  more 
important  consequences.  These  we  have 
hitnerto  omitted,  in  order  to  present,  in  a 
continuous  and  uninterrupted  form,  the 
history  of  the  momentous  warfare,  in  the 
course  of  which  Prussia  was  for  the  time 
subjugated,  and  Russia  so  far  tamed  by  the 
eventful  struggle,  as  to  be  willing  to  em- 
brace the  relation  of  an  ally  to  the  conquer- 
or, whose  course  she  had  proposed  to  stem 
and  to  repel. 

Among  these  comoaratively  minor  inci- 


dents, must  be  reckoned  the  attempt  made 
by  the  British  government  to  rescue  the 
Calabrian  dominions  of  the  Neapolitan 
Bourbons  from  the  intrusive  government  of 
Joseph  Buonaparte.  The  character  of  the 
inhabitants  of  that  mountainous  country  is 
well  known.  Bigots  in  their  religion,  and 
detesting  a  foreign  yoke,  as  is  usual  with 
natives  of  a  wild  and  almost  lawless  region  ; 
sudden  in  their  passions,  and  readily  having 
recourse  to  the  sword,  in  revenge  whether 
of  public  or  private  injury  ;  enticed  also  by 
the  prospect  of  occasional  booty,  and  re- 
taining a  wild  species  of  attachment  to 
Ferdinand,  whose  manners  and  habits  were 
popular  with  the  Italians,  and  especially 
with  those  of  the  inferior  order,  the  Cala- 
brions  were  readily  excited  to  take  arms  by 
the  agents  sent  over  to  practise  among 
them  by  the  Sicilian  court.  Lawless  at 
the  same  time,  cruel  in  their  mode  of  con- 
ducting war,  and  incapable  of  being  subject- 
ed to  discipline,  the  bands  which  they  form- 
ed among  themselves,  acted  rather  in  the 
manner,  and  upon  the  motives,  of  banditti, 
than  of  patriots.  They  occasionally,  and 
individually,  showed  much  courage,  and 
even  a  sort  of  instinctive  skill,  which 
taught  them  how  to  choose  their  ambushes, 
defend  their  passes,  and  thus  maintain  a 
sort  of  predatory  war,  in  which  the  French 
sustained  considerable  losses.  Yet  if  their 
efforts  remained  unassisted  by  some  regular 
force,  it  was  evident  that  these  insurrec- 
tionary troops  must  be  destroyed  in  detail 
by  the  disciplined  and  calculated  exertions 
of  the  French  soldiers.    To  prevent  this 


464 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUOx\APARTE. 


IChap.LV. 


and  to  gratify,  (it  the  same  time,  the  anx- 
ious wishes  of  tlie  Court  of  Palermo,  Sir 
John  Stuart,  who  commanded  the  British 
troops  which  had  been  sent  to  defend  Sicily 
undertook  an  expedition  to  the  neighbour- 
ing shore  of  Italy,  and  disembarked  in  the 
Gulph  of  St.  Euphemia,  near  the  frontier  of 
Lower  Calabria,  in  the  beginning  of  July 
1806,  with  something  short  of  five  thousand 
men. 

The  disembarkation  was  scarce  made, 
ere  the  British  commander  learned  that 
General  Regnier,  who  commanded  for  Jo- 
seph Buonaparte  in  Calabria,  had  assembled 
a  force  neaHy  equal  to  his  own,  and  had 
advanced  to  Maida.  a  town  about  ten  miles 
distant  from  St.  Euphemia,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  him  battle.  Sir  John  Stuart 
lost  no  time  in  moving  to  meet  him,  and 
Regnier,  confident  in  the  numbers  of  his 
cavalry,  the  quali-ty  of  his  troops,  and  his 
own  skill  in  tictics,  aba.idoned  a  strong  po- 
sition on  the  further  bank  of  the  river  Ama- 
ta,  anr*  on  the  6th  July  came  down  to  meet 
the  British  in  the  open  plain.  Of  all  Buona- 
parte's generals,  an  Englishman  would  have 
desired,  in  especial,  to  be  opposed  to  this 
leader,  who  had  published  a  book  on  the 
evacuation  of  Egypt,  in  which  he  denied  ev- 
ery claim  on  the  part  of  the  British,  to  skill 
or  courage,  and  imputed  the  loss  of  the  pro- 
vince exclusively  to  the  incapacity  of  Me- 
nou,  under  whom  Regnier.  the  author,  had 
served  as  second  in  command.  He  was  now 
to  try  his  own  fate  with  the  enemy,  for 
whom  he  had  expressed  so  much  contempt. 

At  nine  in  the  morning,  the  two  lines 
were  apposite  to  each  other,  when  the 
British  light  infantry  brigade,  forming  the 
right  of  the  advanced  line,  and  the  1^'^  Le- 
gere  on  the  French  left,  a  favourite  regi- 
ment, found  themselves  confronted.  As  if 
by  mutual  consent,  when  at  the  distance  of 
about  one  hundred  yards,  the  opposed  corps 
threw  in  two  or  three  close  fires  reciprocal- 
ly, and  then  rushed  on  to  charge  each  other 
with  the  bayonet.  The  British  command- 
ing officer,  perceiving  that  his  men  were 
embarrassed  by  the  blankets  which  they 
carried  at  their  backs,  halted  the  line  that 
tbey  might  throw  them  down.  The  French 
saw  the  pause,  and  taking  it  for  the  hesita- 
tion of  fear,  advanced  with  a  quickened  pace 
and  loud  acclamations.  An  officer,  our  in- 
former, seeing  their  veteran  appearance, 
moustached  countenances,  and  regularity 
of  order,  could  not  forbear  a  feeling  of  anx- 
iety as  he  glanced  his  eye  along  the  British 
line,  which  consisted  in  a  great  measure  of 
young  and  beardless  recruits.  But  disem- 
barrassed of  their  load,  and  receiving  the 
order  to  advance,  they  cheered,  and  in 
their  turn  hastened  towards  the  enemy  with 

rapid  pace  and  levelled  bayonets.  The 
French  officers  were  now  seen  encouraging 
their  men,  whose  courage  began  to  falter 
when  they  found  they  were  to  be  the  assail- 
ed party,  not  the  assailants.  Their  line 
Aalted;  they  could  not  be  brought  to  ad- 
vance by  the  utmost  efforts  of  their  officf>rs, 
and  when  the  British  were  within  bayonet's 
length,  they  broke  and  ran  ;  but  too  late  for 
safety,  for  they  were  subjected  to  the  most 


dreadful  slaughter.  An  attempt  made  by 
Regnier  to  redeem  the  day  with  his  caval- 
ry, was  totally  unsuccessful.  He  was  beat- 
en on  all  points,  and  in  f  uch  a  manner  aa 
left  it  indisputable,  that  the  British  soldier, 
man  to  man,  has  a  superiority  over  his  ene- 
my, similar  to  that  which  the  British  sea- 
man possesses  upon  bis  peculiar  element. 

It  would  be  in  vain  to  inquire  whether 
this  superiority,  which  we  do  not  hesitate 
to  say  has  been  made  manifest,  with  very 
few  exceptions,  wherever  the  British  have 
met  foreign  troops  upon  equal  terms,  arises 
from  a  stronger  conformation  of  body,  or  a 
more  determined  turn  of  mind  ;  but  it  seems 
certain  that  the  British  soldier,  inferior 
to  the  Frenchman  in  general  intelligence, 
and  in  individual  acquaintance  with  the 
trade  of  war,  has  a  decided  advantage  in  the 
bloody  shock  of  actual  conflict,  and  espe- 
cially when  maintained  by  the  bayonet,  bo- 
dy to  body.  It  is  remarkable  also,  that  the 
charm  is  not  peculiar  to  any  one  of  the 
three  united  nations,  but  is  common  to  the 
natives  of  all,  different  as  they  are  in  habits 
and  education.  The  Guards,  supplied  by  the 
city  of  London,  may  be  contrasted  with  a 
regiment  of  Irish  recruited  among  their  rich 
meadows,  or  a  body  of  Scotch  from  their 
native  wildernesses  ;  and  while  it  may  be 
difficult  to  assign  the  palm  to  either  over 
the  other  two,  all  are  '"ound  to  exhibit  that 
species  of  dogged  and  desperate  courage, 
which,  without  staying  to  measure  force  or 
calculate  chances,  rushes  on  the  enemy  as 
the  bull-dog  upon  the  bear.  This  great 
moral  encouragement  was  the  chief  advan- 
tage derived  from  the  battle  of  Maida;  for 
such  was  the  tumultuous,  sanguinary,  and 
unmanageable  character  of  the  Calabrian 
insurgents,  that  it  was  judged  impossible 
to  contiime  the  war  with  such  assistants. 
The  malaria  was  also  found  to  affect  the 
British  troops  ;  and  Sir  John  Stuart,  re-em- 
barking his  little  army,  returned  to  Sicily, 
and  the  efforts  of  the  British  were  confined 
to  the  preservation  cf  that  island.  But  the 
battle  of  Maida  was  valuable  as  a  corollary 
to  that  of  Alexandria.  We  have  not  learn- 
ed whether  General  Regnier  ever  thought 
it  equally  worthy  of  a  commentary. 

The  eves  of  the  best-informed  men  in 
Britain  were  now  open  to  the  disadvantage- 
ous and  timid  policy,  of  conducting  this  mo- 
mentous war  by  petty  expeditions  and  ex- 
perimental armaments,  too  inadequate  to 
the  service  to  be  productive  of  anything 
but  disappointment.  The  paltry  idea  of 
making  war  for  British  objects,  as  it  was 
called,  that  is,  withholding  from  the  gener- 
al cause  those  efforts  which  might  have 
saved  our  allies,  and  going  in  search  of 
some  petty  object  in  which  Britain  might 
see  an  individual  interest,  was  now  univer- 
sally acknowledged;  although  it  became 
more  difficult  than  ever  to  select  points  of 
attack  where  our  limited  means  might  com- 
mand success.  It  was  also  pretty  distinctly 
seen,  that  the  plan  of  opening  a  market  for 
British  manufactures,  by  conquering  dis- 
tant and  unhealthy  provinces,  was  as  idle 
as  immoral.  In  the  latter  quality,  it  some- 
what resembled  the  proceedings  of  the  sur- 


Chap-LV.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


465 


geon  mentioned  in  Le  Sage's  satirical 
novel,  who  converted  passengers  into  pa- 
tients by  a  stroke  of  his  poniard,  and  then 
hastened,  in  his  medical  capacity,  to  cure 
the  wounds  he  had  inflicted.  In  point  of 
profit,  we  had  frequently  to  regret,  that  the 
colonists  whom  we  proposed  to  convert  by 
force  of  arms  into  customers  for  British 
goods,  were  too  rude  to  want,  and  too  poor 
to  pay  for  them.  Nothing  deceives  itself 
EO  willingly  as  the  love  of  gain.  Our  prin- 
cipal merchants  and  manufacturers,  among 
other  commercial  visions,  had  imagined  to 
themselves  an  unlimited  market  for  British 
commodities,  in  the  immense  plains  sur- 
rounding Buenos  Ayres,  which  are  in  fact 
peopled  by  a  sort  of  Christian  savages  call- 
ed Guachos,  whose  principal  furniture  is 
the  sculls  of  dead  horses,  whose  only  food 
is  raw  beef  and  water,  whose  sole  employ- 
ment is  to  catch  wild  cattle,  by  hampering 
them  with  a  Guacho's  noose,  and  whose 
chief  amusement  is  to  ride  wild  horses  to 
death.*  Unfortunately,  they  were  found  to 
prefer  their  national  independence  to  cot- 
tons and  muslins. 

Two  several  attempts  were  made  on  this 
miserable  country,  and  neither  redounded 
to  the  honour  or  advantage  of  the  Britisli 
nation.  Buenos  Ayres  was  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  a  liandful  of  British  troops  on  the 
27th  June  liJOG,  who  were  attacked  by  the 
inhabitants  and  by  a  few  Spanish  troops  5 
and,  surrounded  in  the  market  place  of  the 
town,  under  a  general  and  galling  fire,  were 
compelled  to  lay  down  their  arms  and  sur- 
render prisoners  of  war.  A  small  remnant 
of  the  invading  forces  retained  possession 
of  a  town  on  the  coast,  called  Maldonado. 
In  October  180G  an  expedition  was  sent  out 
to  reinforce  this  small  body,  and  make  some 
more  material  impression  upon  tlie  conti- 
nent of  South  .\merica,  which  the  nation 
were  under  the  delusion  of  considering  as 
a  measure  e.ttremely  to  the  advantage  of 
British  trade.  Monte  Video  was  taken,  and 
a  large  body  of  troops,  under  command  of 
General  Whitelocke,  a  man  of  factitious 
reputation,  and  who  liad  risen  higli  in  the 
army  without  having  seen  much  service, 
marched  against  Buenos  Ayres.  This  per- 
son proved  botli  fool  and  coward.  He 
pushed  his  columns  of  attack  into  the 
streets  of  Buenos  Ayres,  knowing  that  the 
flat  roofs  and  terraces  were  manned  by  ex- 
cellent though  irregular  marksmen  ;  and, 
that  the  British  might  have  no  means  of 
retaliation,  they  were  not  permitted  to  load 
their  muskets, — as  if  stone  walls  could  have 
been  carried  by  the  bayonet.  One  of  the 
columns  was  obliged  to  surrender  ;  and  al- 
though another  had.  in  spite  of  desperate 
opposition,  possessed  themselves  of  a  strong 
position,  and  that  a  few  shells  might  have 
probably  ended  the  sort  of  defence  which 
had  been  maintained,  Wliitelockc  thought 
It  best  to  conclude  a  treaty  with  the  enemy 
for  recovery  of  the  British  prisoners,  and  so 
to  renounce    all   further  attempts   on   the 

•  See  the  very  extraordinary  account  of  the 
Pampas,  published  by  Captain  Head  of  the  Engi- 
rwr*. 

Vol.  J  V2 


colony.  For  this  misconduct  he  was 
cashiered  by  the  sentence  of  a  court-mar- 
tial. 

An  expedition  against  Turkey  and  its  de- 
pendencies, was  as  little  creditable  to  the 
councils  of  Britain,  and  eventually  to  hcf 
arms,  as  were  her  attempts  on  South  Amer- 
ica. It  arose  out  of  a  war  betwixt  England 
and  the  Porte,  her  late  ally  against  France  ; 
for,  so  singular  had  been  the  turns  of 
chance  in  this  extraordinary  conflict,  that 
allies  became  enemies,  and  enemies  return- 
ed to  a  state  of  close  alliance,  almost  before 
war  or  peace  could  be  proclaimed  between 
them.  The  time  was  long  past  when  the 
Sublime  Ottoman  Porte  could  regard  the 
quarrels  and  wars  of  Christian  powers,  with 
the  contemptuous  indift'erence  with  which 
men  look  on  the  strife  of  the  meanest  and 
most  unclean  animals.*  She  was  now  in 
such  close  contact  with  them,  as  to  feel  a 
thrilling  interest  in  their  various  revolu- 
tions. 

The  invasion  of  Egypt  excited  the  Porte 
against  France,  and  disposed  them  to  a  close 
alliance  with  Russia  and  England,  until 
Buonaparte's  assumption  of  the  Imperial 
dignity ;  on  which  occasion  the  Turks, 
overawed  by  the  pitch  of  power  to  which 
he  had  ascended,  sent  an  embassy  to  con- 
gratulate his  succession,  and  expressed  a 
desire  to  cultivate  his  friendship. 

iVapoleon,  whose  eyes  were  sometimes 
almost  involuntarily  turned  to  the  East,  and 
who  besides  desired,  at  that  period,  to 
break  off  the  good  understanding  betwixt 
the  Porte  and  the  cabinet  of  St.  Peters- 
burgh,  despatched  Sebastiani  as  his  envoy 
to  Constantinople;  a  man  well  known  for 
his  skill  in  Oriental  intrigues,  as  was  dis- 
played in  the  celebrated  report  which  had 
so  much  influence  in  breaking  through  the 
peace  of  Amiens. 

The  effect  of  this  ambassador's  promises, 
threats,  and  intrigues,  was  soon  apparent. 
The  Turks  had  come  under  an  engagement 
that  they  would  not  change  the  Hospodars, 
or  gover'-ors,  of  Moldavia  and  Wallachia. 
Sebastiani  easily  alarmed  Turkish  pride  on 
the  subject  of  this  stipulation,  and  induced 
them  to  break  through  it.  The  two  Hos- 
podars were  removed,  in  defiance  of  th? 
agreement  made  to  the  contrary  ;  and  al 
though  the  Turks  became  aware  of  the  ris-k 
to  which  they  had  exposed  themselves, 
and  offered  to  replace  the  governors  whom 
they  had  dismissed,  Russia,  with  preciju- 
tate  resentment,  declared  war,  and  invaded 
the  two  provinces  in  question.  They  over- 
ran and  occupied  them,  but  to  their  own 
cost;  as  an  army  of  fifty  thousand  men  thus 
rashly  engaged  against  the  Turks,  might 
have  been  of  the  last  consequence  in  tb«! 
fields  of  Eylau,  Heilsberg,  or  Friedland. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Great  Britain   sent  a, 

*  In  the  li.Tie  of  Louis  XIV.,  when  the  Frencli 
eiivoy  at  the  court  of  Constant  inoplo  came,  in  a 
great  liurry,  to  intimate  as  important  intelligence, 
some  victory  of  his  master  over  the  PrusBi<in«, 
"  Can  you  suppose  it  of  consonuence  to  his  Serene 
Highness,"  said  the  Grand  Vizier,  with  infinite 
contempt,  "  whether  the  dog  bites  the  hog,  or  tin 
hog  bites  the  dog  f" 


4G6 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.LV. 


squadron,  under  Sir  Thomas  Duckworth,  to 
compel  the  Porte  to  dismiss  the  French  am- 
bassador, and  return  to  the  line  of  politics 
which  Sebastiani  had  induced  them  to  aban- 
don. Admiral  Duckworth  passed  the  Dar- 
danelles in  spite  of  the  immense  cannon  by 
■which  they  are  guarded,  and  which  hurled 
from  their  enormous  muzzles  massive  frag- 
ments of  marble  instead  of  ordinary  bullets. 
But  if  ever  it  was  intended  to  act  against 
the  Turks  by  any  other  means  than  intimi- 
dation, the  opportunity  was  suifered  to  es- 
cape ;  and  an  intercourse  by  message  and 
billet  was  permitted  to  continue  until  the 
Turks  had  completed  a  line  of  formidable 
fortifications,  while  the  state  of  the  weath- 
er was  too  unfavourable  to  allow  even  an 
effort  at  the  destruction  of  Constantinople, 
which  had  been  the  alternative  submitted 
to  the  Turks  by  the  English  admiral.  The 
English  repassed  the  Dardanelles  in  no  very 
creditable  manner,  hated  for  the  threats 
which  they  had  uttered,  and  despised  for 
not  having  attempted  to  make  their  menaces 
good. 

Neither  was  a  subsequent  e.tpedition  to 
Alexandria  more  favourable  in  its  results. 
Five  thousand  men,  under  General  Fraser, 
were  disembarked,  and  occupied  the  town 
with  much  ease.  But  a  division,  despatched 
against  Rosetta,  was  the  cause  of  renewing 
in  a  different  part  of  the  world  the  calamity 
of  Buenos  Ayres.  The  detachment  was,  in- 
cautiously and  unskilfully  on  our  part,  de- 
coyed into  the  streets  of  an  Oriental  town, 
where  the  enemy,  who  had  manned  the 
terraces  and  the  flat  roofs  of  their  houses, 
slaughtered  the  assailants  with  much  ease 
and  little  danger  to  themselves.  Some  sub- 
sequent ill-combined  attempts  were  made 
for  reducing  the  same  place,  and  after  sus- 
taining a  loss  of  more  than  a  fifth  of  their 
number,  by  climate  and  combat,  the  British 
troops  were  withdrawn  from  Egypt  on  the 
23d  of  September  1807. 

It  was  no  great  comfort,  under  these  re- 
peated failures,  that  the  British  were  able 
to  secure  the  Dutth  island  of  Curacoa.  But 
the  capture  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  was 
an  object  of  deep  importance  ;  and  the  more 
80,  as  it  was  taken  at  a  small  e.xpense  of 
lives.  Its  consequence  to  our  Indian  trade 
is  so  great,  that  we  may  well  hope  it  will 
be  at  no  future  time  given  up  to  the  enemy. 
Lfpon  the  whole,  the  general  policy  of  Eng- 
land was,  at  this  period,  of  an  irresolute 
and  ill-combined  character.  Her  ministers 
showed  a  great  desire  to  do  something,  but 
as  great  a  doubt  what  that  something  was  to 
be.  Thus,  they  either  mistook  the  impor- 
tance of  the  objects  which  they  riimed  at, 
or,  undertaking  them  without  a  sulficient 
ibrce,  failed  to  carry  them  into  c.veciition. 
If  the  wealth  and  means,  more  especially 
the  brave  troops,  frittered  away  in  the  at- 
tempts at  Calabria,  Buenos  Ayres,  Alexan- 
dria, and  elsewhere,  iiad  been  united  with 
the  forces  sent  to  Stralsund,  i'.nd  thrown  in- 
to the  rear  of  the  F'rcncli  army  before  the 
fatal  batvle  of  F-iiedland,  Europe  miL;hl,  in 
all  probability,  have  escaped  that  severe, 
an-j   for  a  time,  decisive  blow. 

T  c  evil  of  this  error,  which  had  pervad- 


ed our  continental  efiforts  from  the  beginning 
of  the  original  war  with  France  down  to  the 
period  of  \\  hich  we  are  treating,  began  now 
to  be  felt  from  experience.  Britain  gained 
nothing  whatever  by  her  partial  efforts,  not 
even  settlements  or  sugar-islands.  The 
enemy  maintained  against  her  revenues  and 
commerce  a  constant  and  never-ceasing  war 
— her  resistance  was  equally  stubborn,  and 
it  was  evident  that  the  strife  on  both  sides 
was  to  be  mortal.  Ministers,  were,  there- 
fore, called  upon  for  bolder  risks,  the  nation 
for  greater  sacrifices,  than  had  yet  been  de- 
manded ;  and  it  became  evident  to  every 
one.  that  England's  hope  of  safety  lay  in  her 
own  exertions,  not  for  petty  or  selfish  ob- 
jects, but  such  as  might  have  a  decided  in- 
fluence on  the  general  events  of  the  war. 
The  urgent  pressure  of  the  moment  was  felt 
by  the  new  administration,  whose  princi- 
ples being  in  favour  of  the  continuance  of 
the  war,  their  efforts  to  conduct  it  with  en- 
ergy began  now  to  be  manifest. 

The  first  symptoms  of  this  change  of 
measures  were  exhibited  in  the  celebrated 
expedition  to  Copenhagen,  which  manifest- 
ed an  energy  and  determination  not  of  late 
visible  in  the  military  operations  of  Britain 
on  the  continent.  It  can  hardly  be  made 
matter  of  serious  doubt,  that  one  grand  ob- 
ject by  which  Buonaparte  meant  to  enforce 
the  continental  system,  and  thus  reduce  the 
power  of  England  without  battle  or  invasion, 
was  the  re-establishment  of  the  great  alli- 
ance of  the  Northern  Powers,  for  the  de- 
struction of  Britain's  maritime  superiority. 
This  had  been  threatened  towards  the  con- 
clusion of  the  American  war,  and  had  been 
again  acted  upon  in  1801,  when  the  unnatu- 
ral compact  was  dissolved  by  the  cannon  of 
Nelson,  and  th,e  death  of  the  Emperor  Paul. 
The  treaty  of  Tilsit,  according  to  the  infor- 
mation which  the  British  ambassador  had 
procured,  certainly  contained  an  article  to 
this  purpose,  and  ministers  received  from 
other  quarters  the  most  positive  informa- 
tion of  what  was  intended.  Indeed,  the 
Emperor  Alexander  had  shown,  by  many  in- 
dications, that  in  the  new  friendship  which 
he  had  formed  with  the  Emperor  of  the 
East,  he  was  to  embrace  his  resentment, 
and  further  his  plans,  against  England.  The 
unfortunate  Gustavus  of  Sweden  could 
scarce  be  expected  voluntarily  to  embrace 
t!ie  proposed  northern  alliance,  and  his  ru- 
in was  probabh'  resolved  upon.  But  the  ac- 
cession of  Denmark  was  of  the  utmost  con- 
sequence. That  country  still  possessed  a 
fleet,  and  the  local  situation  of  the  island 
of  Zealand  gave  her  the  key  of  the  Baltic. 
Her  confessed  weakness  could  not  have 
permitted  her  for  an  instant  to  resist  the 
joint  influence  of  Russia  and  France,  even 
if  her  angry  recollection  of  the  destruction 
of  her  fleet  by  Nelson,  had  not  induced  her 
inclinations  to  lean  in  that  diiection.  It 
was  evident  that  Denmark  would  only  be 
permitted  to  retain  her  neutrality,  till  it  suit- 
ed the  purposes  of  the  more  powerful  par- 
ties to  compel  her  to  throw  it  off".  In  thin 
case,  and  finding  the  French  troops  ap- 
proaching Holstein,  Jutland,  and  Fiumc,  the 
British  government^  acting  on  the  infer wi- 


Chop.  L  v.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUON.\PARTE. 


467 


tjon  wbich  they  had  received  of  the  pur- 
pose of  their  enemies,  conceived  them- 
selves entitled  to  require  from  Denmark  a 
pledge  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  which  she 
proposed  to  adopt  on  the  approach  of  hostili- 


However  this  reasoning  may  be  admitted 
to  justify  the  British  demands,  we  cannot 
wonder  that  it  failed  to  enforce  compliance 
on  the  part  of  the  Crown  Prince.  There 
was  something  disgraceful  in  delivering  up 


ties,  and  some  rational  security  that  such  a  |  the  fleet  of  the  nation  under  a  menace  that 
pledge,  when  given,  should  be    redeemed.  I  violence   would    otherwise  be  employed  ; 
A  formidable  expedition  was  now  fitted  I  and  although,  for  the  sake  of  his  people  and 


out,  humanely,  as  well  as  politically,  calcu 
lated  on  a  scale  of  such  magnitude,  as,  it 
might  be  expected,  would  render  impossible 
the  resistance  which  the  Danes,  as  a  high- 
spirited  people,  might  offer  to  such  a  harsh 
species  of  erpostulation.  Twenty-seven 
sail  of  the  line,  and  twenty  thousand  men, 
under  the  command  of  Lord  Cathcart.  %vere 
sent  to  the  Baltic,  to  support  a  negotiation 
with  Denmark,  which  it  was  still  hoped 
might  terminate  without  hostilities.  The 
fleet  was  conducted  with  great  ability 
through  the  intricate  passages  called  the 
Belts,  and  was  disposed  in  such  a  manner, 
that  ninety  pendants  flying  round  Zealand, 
entirely  blockaded  the  shores  of  that  island. 
Under  these  auspices  the  negotiation  was 
commenced.  The  British  envoy,  Mr.  Jack- 
eon,  had  the  delicate  task  of  stating  to  the 
Crown  Prince  in  person,  the  e-vpectation  of 
England  that  his  Royal  Highness  should  ex- 
plain une'iuivocally  his  sentiments,  and  de- 
clare the  part  which  he  meant  to  take  be- 
tween her  and  France.  The  unpleasant 
condition  was  annexed,  that,  to  secure  any 
protestation  which  might  be  made  of  friend- 
ship or  neutrality,  it  was  required  that  the 
fleet  and  naval  stores  of  the  Danes  should 
be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Great  Britain, 
not  in  right  of  properly,  but  to  be  restored 
so  soon  as  the  state  of  aflairs,  which  induc- 
ed her  to  require  possession  of  them,  should 
be  altered  for  more  peaceful  times.  The 
closest  alliance,  and  every  species  of  pro- 
tection which  Britain  could  afford,  was  prof- 
fered, to  obtain  compliance  with  these  pro- 
posals. Finally  the  Crown  Prince  was  giv- 
en to  understand,  that  so  great  a  force  was 
sent  in  order  to  atibrd  him  an  apology  to 
France,  should  he  choose  to  urge  it,  as  hav- 
ing been  compelled  to  submit  to  the  Eng- 
lish demands  ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  was 
intimated,  that  the  forces  would  be  actually 


his  capital,  he  ought,  in  prudence,  to  have 
forborne  an  ineffectual  resistance,  yet  it  was 
impossible  to  blame  a  high-minded  and  hon- 
ourable man  for  making  the  best  defence  in 
his  power. 

So  soon  as  the  object  of  the  Danes  was 
found  to  be  delay  and  evasion,  while  they 
made  a  hasty  preparation  for  defence,  the 
soldiers  were  disembarked,  batteries  erect- 
ed, and  a  bombardment  commenced,  which 
occasioned  a  dreadful  conflagration.  Some 
forces  which  had  been  collected  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  island,  were  dispersed  by  the 
troops  under  Sir  Arthur  Weliesley,  a  name 
already  famous  in  India,  but  now  for  the  first 
time  heard  in  European  warfare.  The  un- 
availing defence  was  at  last  discontinued, 
and  upon  the  8th  September  the  citadel 
and  forts  of  Copenhagen  were  surrendered 
to  the  British  general.  The  Danish  ships 
were  fitted  out  for  sea  with  all  possible  de- 
spatch, together  with  the  naval  stores,  to  a 
very  large  amount;  which,  had  they  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  French,  must  have 
afforded  them  considerable  facility  in  fitting 
out  a  fleet. 

As  the  nature  and  character  of  the  attack 
upon  Copenhagen  were  attended  by  cir- 
cumstances which  were  very  capable  of  be- 
ing misrepresented.  France — who,  through 
the  whole  war,  had  herself  shown  the  most 
total  disregard  for  the  rights  of  neutral  na- 
tions, with  her  leader  Napoleon,  the  inva- 
der of  Egypt,  when  in  profound  peace  with 
the  Porte  ;  of  Hanover,  when  in  amity  with 
the  German  empire  ;  and  who  was  at  this 
very  moment  meditating  the  appropriation 
of  Spain  and  Portugal — France  was  filled 
w'ith  extreme  horror  at  the  violence  prac- 
tised on  the  Danish  capital.  Russia  was 
also  offended,  and  to  a  degree  which  show- 
ed that  a  feeling  of  disappointed  schemes 
mingled  with  her  affectation  of  zeal  for  the 


employed  to  compel  the  demands,  if  they    rights  of  neutrality.     But   the    daring  and 
should  be  refused.  energetic   spirit  with  which   England  had 

In  the  ordinary  intercourse  betwixt  na-  formed  and  accomplished  her  plan,  struck 
Uons.  these  requisitions,  on  the  part  of  Brit-  !  a  wholesome  terror  into  other  nations  and 
ain,  would  have  been,  with  respect  to  Den- I  showed  neutrals,  that  if  while  assuming 
mark,  severe  and  unjustifiable.  The  apolo-  I  that  character,  they  lent  their  secret  coun- 
gy  arose  out  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  tenance  to  the  enemies  of  Great  Britain, 
the  times.  The  condition  of  Kngland  wa.s  '  they  were  not  to  expect  that  it  was  to  be 
that  of  an  individual,  who,  threatened  by  done  with  impunity.  This  was  indeed  no 
the  approach  of  a  superior  force  of  mortal  ;  small  hardship  upon  the  lesser  powers, 
enemies,  sees  close  beside  him,  and  with  '  many  of  whom  would  no  doubt  have  been 
arraa  in  his  hand,  one,  of  whom  he  had  a  '  well  contented  to  have  observed  a  strict 
right  to  be  suspicious,  as  having  co-operated  j  neutrality,  but  for  the  threats  and  influence 
against  him  on  two  former  occasions,  and  i  of  France,  against  whom  they  had  no  means 
who,  he  has  the  best  reaion  to  believe,  is  at  {  of  defence  ;  but  the  furious  conflict  of  such 
the  very  moment  engaged  in  a  similar  alii-  two  nations  as  France  and  England,  is  lik.> 
ance  to  his  prejudice.  The  individual,  in  the  struggle  of  giants,  in  which  the  smaller 
the  case  supposed,  would  certainly  be  war-  ;  and  more"  feeble,  who  have  the  misfortuno 
ranted  in  requiring  to  know  this  third  par-  to  be  in  the  neighbourhood,  are  sure  to  be 
ty's  intention,  nay,  in  disarming  him,  if  he  j  borne  down  and  trodden  upon  by  one  or 
bad  strength  to  do  so,  and  retaining  his  both  parties, 
weapons,  as  the  best  pledge  of  his  neutrality.  ;      The  extreme  resentment  expressed   by 


468 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  LVl. 


Saonaparte,  when  he  received  intelligence 
of  this  critical  and  decisive  measure,  might 
serve  to  argue  the  depth  of  his  disappoint- 
ment at  such  an  unexpected  anticipation 
of  his  purposes.  He  had  only  left  to  him 
the  comfort  of  railing  against  Britain  in  the 
Moniteur ;  and  the  breach  of  peace,  and 
of  the  law  of  nations,  was  gravely  imputed 
to  England  as  an  inexpiable  crime  by  one, 
who  never  suffered  his  regard  either  for 
his  own  word,  or  the  general  good  faith 
observed  amongst  nations,  to  interfere  with 
any  wish  or  interest  he  had  ever  enter- 
tained. 

The  conduct  of  Russia  was  more  singular. 
An  English  officer  of  literary  celebrity  was 
employed  by  Alexander,  or  those  who  were 
supposed  to  share  his  most  secret  councils, 
to  convey  to  the  British  ministry  the  Empe- 
ror's expressions  of  the  secret  satisfaction 
which  his  Imperial  Majesty  felt,  at  the  skill 
and  dexterity  which  Britain  had  displayed 
in  anticipating  and  preventing  the  purposes 
of  France,  by  her  attack  upon  Copenhagen. 
Her  ministers  were  invited  to  communicate 
freely  with  the  Czar,  as  with  a  prince,  who, 
though  obliged  to  give  way  to  circumstan- 
ces, was,  nevertheless,  as  much  attached  as 
ever  to  the  cause  of  European  indepen- 
dence. Thus  invited,  the  British  cabinet 
entered  into  an  explanation  of  their  views 
for  establishing  a  counterbalance  to  the  ex- 
orbitant power  of  France,  by  a  northern  con- 
federacy of  an  offensive  and  defensive  char- 
acter. It  was  supposed  that  .Sweden  would 
enter  with  pleasure  into  such  an  alliance, 
and  that  Denmark  would  not  decline  it  if 
encouraged  by  the  example  of  Russia,  who 
was  proposed  as  the  head  and  soul  of  the  co- 
alition. 

Such  a  communication  was  accordingly 
made  to  the  Russian  ministers,  but  was 
received  with  the  utmost  coldness.  It  is 
impossible  now  to  determine,  whether 
there  had  been  some  over-confidence  in 
the  agent  5  whether  the  communication  had 
been  founded  on  some  hasty  and  fugitive 
idea  of  a  breach  with  France,  which  the 


Emperor  had  afterwards  abandoned;  or 
finally,  whether,  as  is  more  probable,  it  ori- 
ginated in  a  wish  to  fathom  the  extent  of 
Great  Britain's  resources,  and  the  purposes 
to  which  she  meant  to  devote  them.  It  is 
enough  to  observe,  that  the  countenance 
with  which  Russia  received  the  British 
communication,  was  so  difterent  from  that 
with  which  she  had  invited  the  confidence 
of  her  ministers,  that  the  negotiation  prov- 
ed totally  abortive. 

Alexander's  ultimate  purpose  was  given 
to  the  world,  so  soon  as  Britain  had  declin- 
ed the  offered  mediation  of  Russia  in  her 
disputes  with  France.  In  a  proclamation, 
or  manifesto,  sent  forth  by  the  Emperor,  he 
expressed  his  repentance  for  having  entered 
into  agreements  with  England,  which  he 
had  found  prejudicial  to  the  Pi.ussiau  trade  ; 
he  complained  (with  justice)  of  the  manner 
in  which  Britain  had  conducted  the  war  by 
petty  expeditions,  conducive  only  to  her 
own  selfish  ends  ;  and  the  attack  upon  Den- 
mark was  treated  as  a  violation  of  the  rights 
of  nations.  He  therefore  annulled  every 
convention  entered  into  between  Russia 
and  Britain,  and  especially  that  of  1801  ; 
and  he  avowed  the  principles  of  the  Armed 
Neutrality,  which  he  termed  a  monument 
of  the  wisdom  of  the  Great  Catherine.  In 
November  1806,  a  ukase,  or  imperial  de- 
cree, was  issued,  imposing  an  embargo  on 
British  vessels  and  property.  But,  by  the 
favour  of  the  Russian  nation,  and  even  of 
the  officers  employed  by  government,  the 
ship-masters  were  made  aware  of  the  im- 
pending arrest;  and  not  less  than  eighty 
vessels,  setting  sail  with  a  favourable  wind, 
reached  Britain  with  their  cargoes  in  safe- 
ty. 

Austria  and  Prussia  found  themselves  un- 
der the  necessity  of  following  the  example 
of  Russia,  and  declaring  war  against  British 
commerce  ;  so  that  Buonaparte  had  now 
!  made  an  immense  stride  towards  his  prin- 
'  cipal  object,  of  destroying  every  species  of 
intercourse  which  could  unite  England  with 
the  continent. 


CHAP.   I.VI. 

View  of  the  Internal  Government  of  Napoleon  at  the  period  of  the  Peace  of  Tilsit. — 
The  Tribunate  abolished. — Council  of  State. — Prefectures — Their  nature  and  object* 
described. —  The  Code  Napoleon — Its  Provisions — Its  Merits  and  Defects — Compari- 
son betwixt  that  Code  and  the  Jurisprudence  of  England. — Laudable  efforts  of  Napo- 
leon to  carry  it  into  effect. 


.\t  this  period  of  Buonaparte's  elevation, 
when  his  povk'er  seemed  best  established, 
and  most  permanent,  it  seems  proper  to 
takj  a  hasty  view,  not  indeed  of  the  details 
of  his  internal  government,  which  is  a  sub- 

iect  that  would  exhaust  volumes  ;  but  at 
east  of  its  general  chara'-ter,  of  the  means 
by  which  his  empire  was  maintained,  and 
the  nature  of  the  relations  which  it  estab- 
lished betwixt  the  sovereign  and  his  sub- 
jects. 

The  ruling,  almost  the  sole  principle  on 
which  the  government  of  Buonaparte  rest- 
■•d,  was  the  simple  proposition  upon  which 


despotism  of  every  kind  lias  founded  itself 
in  every  species  of  society  ;  namely,  that 
the  individual  who  is  to  exercise  the  aUr 

!  thority  and  power  of  the  state,  shall,  on  the 
one  hand,  dedicate  himself  and  his  talents 

I  exclusively  to  the  public  service  of  the  em- 

I  pire,  while,  on  the  other,  the  nation  sub- 
jected to  his  rule  shall  requite  this    self- 

I  devotion  on  liis  part  by  the  most  implicit 
obedience  to  his  will.  Some  despots  have 
rested  this  claim  to  universal  submission 
upon  family  descent,  and  upon  their  right, 
according  to  Filmer's  doctrine,  of  represent- 

!  ing  the  original  father  of  the  tribe,  aud  be- 


Ck<^.  L  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOiN'  BUONAPARTE. 


409 


coming  the  legitimate  inheritors  of  a  patri- 
archal power.  Others  have  strained  scrip- 
lure  and  abused  common  sense,  to  establish 
in  their  own  favour  a  right  through  the  spe- 
cial decree  of  Providence.  To  the  heredi- 
tary title,  Buonaparte  could  of  course  assert 
no  claim  ;  but  he  founded  not  a  little  on 
the  second  principle,  often  holding  himself 
out  to  others,  and  no  doubt,  occasionally 
considering  himself,  in  his  own  mind,  as  an 
individual  destined  by  Heaven  to  the  high 
station  which  he  held,  and  one  who  could 
not  therefore  be  opposed  in  his  career, 
without  an  express  struggle  being  maintain- 
ed against  Destiny,  who,  leading  him  by 
the  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  protecting 
him  with  her  shield,  had  guided  him  by 
paths  as  strange  as  perilous,  to  the  post  of 
eminence  which  he  now  occupied.  No 
one  had  been  his  tutor  in  the  lessons  which  I 
led  the  way  to  his  preferment — no  one  had  1 
been  his  guide  in  the  dangerous  ascent  to  1 
power — scarce  any  one  had  been  of  so  ' 
much  consequence  to  his  promotion,  as  to 
claim  even  the  merit  of  an  ally,  however 
humble.  It  seemed  as  if  Napoleon  had 
been  wafted  on  to  this  stupendous  pitch 
of  grandeur  by  a  power  more  effectual  than 
that  of  any  human  assistance,  nay,  which 
surpassed  what  could  have  been  expected 
from  his  own  great  talents,  unassisted  by 
the  special  interposition  of  Destiny  in  his  fa- 
rour.  Yet  it  was  not  to  this  principle  alone 
that  the  general  acquiescence  in  the  un- 
limited power  which  he  asserted  is  to  be 
imputed.  Buonaparte  understood  the  char- 
acter of  the  French  nation  so  well,  that  he 
could  offer  them  an  acceptable  indemnifica- 
tion for  servitude,  first,  in  the  height  to 
which  he  proposed  to  raise  their  national 
pre-eminence;  secondly,  in  the  municipal 
establishments,  by  means  of  which  he  ad- 
ministered their  government ;  and  which, 
though  miserably  defective  in  all  which 
would  have  been  demanded  by  a  nation  ac- 
customed to  the  administration  of  equal  and 
just  laws,  afforded  a  protection  to  life  and 
property  that  was  naturally  most  welcome  to 
those  who  had  been  so  long,  under  the  re- 
publican system,  made  the  victims  of  cruel- 
ty, rapacity,  and  the  most  extravagant  and 
unlimited  tyranny,  rendered  yet  more  odi- 
ous as  exercised  under  the  pretest  of  lib- 
erty. 

To  the  first  of  these  arts  of  government 
we  have  often  adverted  ;  and  it  must  be 
always  recalled  to  mind  whenever  the 
sources  of  Buonaparte's  power  over  the 
public  mind  in  France  come  to  be  treated 
of.  He  himself  gave  the  solution  in  a  few 
words,  when  censuring  the  imbecility  of 
the  Directors,  to  whose  power  he  succeed- 
ed. "  These  men,"  he  said,  ''  know  not  how 
to  work  upon  the  imagination  of  the  French 
nation."  This  idea,  which,  in  phraseology, 
is  rather  Italian  than  French,  expresses 
the  chief  secret  of  Napoleon's  authority. 
Ho  held  himself  out  as  the  individual  upon 
whom  the  fate  of  France  depended — of 
whose  hundred  decisive  victories  France 
enjoyed  the  glory.  It  was  he  whose  sword, 
hewing  down  obstacles  which  her  bravest 
nunarchs  had   accounted   insurmountab'e, 


had  cut  the  way  to  her  now  undeniable 
supremacy  over  Europe.  He  alone  could 
justly  claim  to  be  Absolute  Monarch  of 
France,  who,  raising  that  nation  from  a  peril- 
ous condition,  had  healed  her  discords, 
reconciled  her  factions,  turned  her  defeats 
into  victory,  and,  from  a  disunited  people, 
about  to  become  the  prey  to  civil  and  exter- 
nal war,  had  elevated  her  to  the  situation 
of  Queen  of  Europe.  This  had  been  all 
accomplished  upon  one  condition  ;  and  as 
we  have  stated  elsewhere,  it  was  that  whicli 
the  Tempter  offered  in  the  wilderness,  after 
his  ostentatious  display  of  the  kingdoms  of 
the  earth — "  All  these  will  I  give  thee,  if 
thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  me." 

Napoleon  had  completed  the  boastful 
promise,  and  it  flattered  a  people  more  de- 
sirous of  glory  than  of  liberty  ;  and  so  much 
more  pleased  with  hearing  of  national  con- 
quests in  foreign  countries,  than  of  enjoy- 
ing the  freedom  of  their  own  individual 
thoughts  and  actions,  that  they  unreluctant- 
ly  surrendered  the  latter  in  order  that  theit 
vanity  might  be  flattered  by  the  former. 

Thus  did  Napoleon  avail  himself  of,  or 
to  translate  his  phrase  more  literallj',  play 
upon  the  imagination  of  the  French  people. 
He  gave  them  public  festivals,  victories, 
and  extended  dominion;  and  in  return 
claimed  the  right  of  carrying  their  children 
in  successive  swarms  to  yet  more  distant 
and  yet  more  extended  conquests,  and  of 
governing,  according  to  his  own  pleasure, 
the  bulk  of  the  nation  which  remained  be- 
hind. 

To  attain  this  purpose,  one  species  of 
idolatry  was  gradually  and  ingeniously  sub- 
stituted for  another,  and  the  object  of  the 
public  devotion  was  changed,  while  the 
worsliip  v.as  continued.  France  had  been 
formerly  governed  by  political  maxims — she 
was  now  ruled  by  the  name  of  an  individual. 
Formerly  the  Republic  was  everything — 
Fayette,  Dumouriez,  or  Pichegru,  were 
nothing.  Now,  the  name  of  a  successful 
general  was  of  more  influence  than  the 
whole  code  of  tlie  Rights  of  Man.  Franco 
had  submitted  to  murder,  spoliation,  revo- 
lutionary tribunals,  and  every  species  of 
cruelty  and  oppression,  while  thoy  were 
gilded  by  the  then  talismanic  expressions, 
"  Liberty  and  Equality — Fraternization — 
the  public  welfare,  and  the  happiness  of  the 
people."  She  was  now  found  equally  com- 
pliant, when  the  watchword  was,  "  The 
honour  of  his  Imperial  and  Royal  Majesty 
— the  interests  of  the  Great  Empire — the 
splendours  of  the  Imperial  Throne."  It 
must  be  owned  that  the  sacrifices  under 
the  last  form  were  less  enormous  ;  they  were 
limited  to  taxes  at  the  Imperial  pleasure, 
and  a  perpetual  anticipation  of  the  con- 
scription. The  Republican  tyrants  claim- 
ed both  life  anu  property ;  the  Em[)€ror 
was  satisfied  with  a  tithe  of  the  latter,  and 
the  unlimited  disposal  of  that  portion  of 
the  family  who  could  best  support  the  bur- 
den of  arms,  for  augmenting  the  conquests 
of  France.  Such  were  the  terms  on  which 
this  long-distracted  country  attained  once 
more,  after  its  Revolution,  the  advantage 
of  a  steady  and  effective  government. 


470 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  L  VI. 


The  character  of  that  gevernment,  its 
means  and  principles  of  action,  must  now 
>e  briefly  traced. 

It  cannot  be  forgotten  that  Buonaparte, 
khe  heir  of  the  Revolution,  appropriated  to 
nimself  the  forms  and  modifications  of  the 
Directorial  government,  altered  in  some 
degree  by  the  ingenuity  of  Sieves  ;  but  they 
subsisted  as  forms  only,  and  were  carefully 
divested  of  all  effectual  impulse  on  the 
government.  The  Senate  and  Legislative 
Bodies  became  merely  passive  and  pen- 
sioned creatures  of  the  Emperor's  will, 
whom  he  used  as  a  medium  for  promul- 
gating the  laws  which  he  was  determined 
to  establish.  The  Tribunate  had  been  in- 
stituted for  the  protection  of  the  people 
against  all  acts  of  arbitrary  power,  whether 
by  imprisonment,  exile,  assaults  on  the  lib- 
erty of  the  press,  or  otherwise  ;  but  after 
having  gradually  undermined  the  rights 
and  authority  of  this  body,  after  having 
rendered  its  meetings  partial  and  secret, 
and  having  deprived  it  of  its  boldest  mem- 
bers, Buonaparte  suppressed  it  entirely, 
on  account,  as  he  alleged,  of  the  expense 
which  it  occasioned  to  the  government. 
It  had  indeed  become  totally  useless  5  but 
this  was  because  its  character  had  been  alter- 
ed, and  because,  originating  from  the  Senate 
and  not  from  popular  election,  the  Tribu- 
nate never  consistedof  that  class  of  persons, 
w  10  are  willing  to  encounter  the  frown  of 
power  when  called  upon  to  impeach  its 
aggressions.  Yet,  as  the  very  name  of  this 
body,  while  it  sub'-isted,  recalled  some 
ideas  of  Republican  freedom,  the  Emperor 
thought  fit  altogether  to  abolish  it. 

The  deliberative  Council  of  the  Empe- 
ror existed  in  his  own  personal  Council  of 
State,  of  whose  consultations,  in  which  he 
himself  presided,  he  made  frequent  use 
during  the  course  of  his  reign.  Its  func- 
tions were  of  an  anomalous  character, 
comprehending  political  legislation,  or  ju- 
dicial business,  according  to  the  order  of 
the  day.  It  was,  in  short,  Buonaparte's  re- 
source, when  he  wanted  the  advice,  or 
opinion,  or  information,  of  others  in  aid  of 
his  own  ;  he  often  took  the  assistance  of 
the  Council  of  State,  in  order  to  form  those 
resolutions  which  he  afterwards  executed 
by  means  of  his  ministers.  Monsieur  de 
Las  Cases,  himself  a  member  of  it,  has 
dwelt  with  complaisance  upon  the  freedom 
which  Buonaparte  permitted  to  their  de- 
bates, and  the  good  humour  with  which  he 
submitted  to  contradiction,  even  when  ex- 
pressed with  obstinacy  or  vivacity  ;  and 
would  have  us  consider  the  Council  as  an 
important  barrier  aff"orded  to  the  citizens 
against  the  arbitrary  will  of  the  Sovereign. 
What  he  has  said,  however,  only  amounts 
to  this, — that  Buonaparte,  desirous  to  have 
the  advice  of  his  counsellors,  tolerated 
their  freedom  of  speech,  and  even  of  re- 
monstrance. Mahmoud,  or  .\murath,  seat- 
ed in  their  divan,  must  have  done  the 
same,  and  yet  would  not  have  remained 
tlie  less  absolutely  masters  of  the  lives  of 
those  who  stood  around  them.  We  have 
no  doubt  that  Buonaparte,  on  certain  occa- 
sions,  permitted    his   counsellors   to   take 


considerable  freedoms,  and  that  he  some- 
times yielded  up  his  opinion  to  theirs  with- 
out being  convinced  ;    in   such  cases,  at 
least,  where  his   own  passions  or  interests 
were  no  way  concerned.*     But  we  further 
read  of  the  Emperor's  using,  to  extremely 
stubborn  persons,   such  language  as  plainly 
intimated  that  he  would  not  suffer  contra- 
diction beyond  a  certain  point.     "  You  are 
very  obstinate,"  he  said   to  such   a  dispu- 
tant ;  "  what  if  I  were  to  be  as  much  so  as 
you  ?  You  are  wrong  to  push  the  powerful 
to    extremity — you    should     consider   the 
weakness    of  humanity."     To  another   he 
said,  after  a  scene  of  argumentative    vio- 
lence, •'  Pray,  pay   some   attention  to  ac- 
commodate yourself  a  little  more  to  my  hu- 
mour.    Yesterday,  you  carried  it  so  far  as 
to  oblige  me  to  scratch  my  temple.     That 
is  a  great  sign  with   me — take  care  in  fu- 
ture not  to  drive  me  to  such  an  extremity." 
Such  limits  to  the  freedom  of  debate  in 
the  Imperial  Council  of  State,  correspond 
with  those  laid  down  in  the  festive  enter- 
tainments of  Sans  Souci,  where  the  Great 
Frederick  professed  to  support  and  encour- 
age every  species  of  familiar  raillery,  but, 
when  it  attained  a  point  that  was  too  per- 
sonal, used  to  hint  to  the   facetious  guests, 
that  he  heard  the  King's  step  in  the  gallery 
There  were  occasions,  accordingly,  when, 
not  satisfied  with  calling  their  attention  t; 
the  distant  murmurs  of  '.bs.  Imperial  thun 
der,  Napoleon    launched  its   bolts  in    the 
midst  of  his  trembling  counsellors.     Sue". 
a  scene  was  that  ofPortalis.     This  states 
man,  a  man  of  talent  and  virtue,  had  beet 
eminently  useful,  as  we  have  seen,  in  bring 
ing  about  the  Concordat,  and  had  been  ere 
ated,  in  recompence,   minister  of  religious 
affairs,  and  counsellor  of  state.     In  the  sub- 
sequent  disputes    betwixt   the    Pope    and 
Buonaparte,  a  relation  of  the   minister  had 
been   accused  of  circulating  the  bulls,  or 
spiritual    admonitions    of  the    Pope  ;    and 
Portalis  had  failed  to  intimate  the  circum- 
stance to  the  Emperor.     On  this  account. 
Napoleon,  in  full  council,  attacked  him  in 
the  severest  terms,  as  guilty  of  having  bro- 
ken his  oath  as  a  counsellor   and  minister 
of  state,  deprived  him  of  both  offices,  and 
expelled  him  from   the    assembly,  as  one 
who   had  betrayed  his  Sovereign.     If  any 
of  the  members  of  the  Council  of  State  had 
ventured,  when  this  sentence  rung  in  their 
ears,  to  come  betwixt  the  dragon  and  his 


*  Segur  givc3  example  of  a  case  in  which  Buo- 
naparte deferred  his  own  opinion  to  that  of  the 
Council.  A  female  of  AmsterJnm,  tried  for  a 
capital  crime,  had  been  twice  acquitted  by  the  Im- 
perial Courts,  and  the  Court  of  Appeal  claimed 
the  right  to  try  her  a  third  time.  Buonaparte 
alone  contended  against  the  whole  Council  of 
State,  and  claimed  i'or  the  poor  woman  the  immn- 
nily  which,  in  justice,  she  ought  to  have  obtained, 
considering  the  prejudices  that  must  have  beoo 
excited  against  her.  He  yielded,  at  length  to  the 
majority,  but  protesting  he  was  silenced  and  not 
convinced.  To  account  for  his  complaisance,  it 
may  be  remarked,  first,  that  Buonaparte  was  no 
way  personally  interested  in  the  decision  of  the 
question  ;  and,  secondly,  if  it  concerned  him  at  all, 
the  fate  of  the  female  waa  in  his  hands,  since  ha 
had  only  to  grant  her  a  pardon  if  she  wi»s  con<!«naiv- 
ed  by  the  Court  of  Appeal. 


Chap.  L  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


47J 


wrath,  for  the  purpose  of  stating  that  a 
hasty  charge  ought  not  instantly  to  be  fol- 
lowed with  immediate  censure  and  punish- 
ment j  that  it  was  possible  M.  Portalis 
might  have  been  misled  by  false  informa- 
tion, or  by  a  natural  desire  to  screen  the 
offence  of  his  cousin  ;  or,  finally,  that  his 
conduct  might  have  been  influenced  by 
views  of  religion,  which,  if  erroneous, 
were  yet  sincere  and  conscientious, — we 
Bhould  then  have  believed  that  the  Council 
of  State  of  Buonaparte  formed  a  body,  in 
which  the  accused  citizen  might  receive 
some  protection  against  the  despotism  of 
the  government.  But  when,  or  in  what 
country,  could  the  freedom  of  the  nation  be 
intrusted  to  the  keeping  of  the  immediate 
counsellors  of  the  throne  ?  It  can  only  be 
safely  lodged  in  some  body,  the  authority 
of  which  emanates  directly  from  the  nation, 
and  whom  the  nation  therefore  will  protect 
and  support,  in  the  existence  of  their  right 
of  opposition  or  remonstrance. 

The  deliberations  of  the  Council  of 
State,  or  such  resolutions  as  Buonaparte 
chose  to  adopt  without  communication 
with  them,  (for  it  may  be  easily  supposed 
that  they  were  not  admitted  to  share  his 
more  secret  political  discussions,)  were,  as 
in  other  countries,  adjusted  with  and  exe- 
cuted by  the  ostensible  ministers. 

But  that  part  of  the  organization  of  the 
Imperial  government,  upon  which   Buona- 

fiarte  most  piqued  himself,  was  the  estab- 
ishment  of  the  prefectures,  which  certain- 
ly gave  facilities  for  the  most  effectual 
agency  of  despotism  that  was  ever  exer- 
cised. There  is  no  mistaking  the  object 
and  tendency  of  this  arrangement,  since 
Buonaparte  himself,  and  his  most  bitter  op- 
ponents, hold  up  the  same  picture,  one  to 
the  admiration,  the  other  to  the  censure, 
of  the  world.  These  prefects,  it  must  be 
understood,  were  each  the  supreme  gover- 
nor of  a  department,  answering  to  the  old 
lieutenants  and  governors  of  counties,  and 
representing  the  Imperial  person  within  the 
limits  of  the  several  prefectures.  The  in- 
dividuals were  carefully  selected,  as  per- 
sons whose  attachment  was  either  to  be 
secured  or  rewarded.  They  received  large 
and  in  some  cases  exorbitant  salaries,  some 
amounting  to  fifteen,  twenty,  and  even  thir- 
ty thousand  francs.  This  heavy  expense 
Napoleon  stated  to  be  the  consequence  of 
the  depraved  state  of  moral  feeling  in 
France,  which  made  it  necessary  to  attach 
men  by  their  interests  rather  than  their  du- 
ties ;  but  it  was  termed  by  his  enemies  one 
of  the  leading  principles  of  his  government, 
which  treated  the  public  good  as  a  chimera,  ] 
und  erected  private  and  personal  interest 
into  the  paramount  motive  upon  which 
alone  the  state  was  to  be  served  by  efficient 
functionaries.  The  prefects  were  chosen 
in  the  general  case,  as  men  whose  birth  and 
condition  were  totally  unconnected  with 
that  of  the  department  in  which  each  was 
to  preside  ;  les  depayser,  to  place  them  in 
a  country  to  which  ttiey  were  strangers, 
t)eing  an  especial  point  of  Napoleon's  pol- 
icy. They  wrre  entirely  dependent  on  the 
wLtj  of  the  tmperor,  who  removed  or  cash-  i 


iered  them  at  pleasure.  The  administration 
of  the  departments  was  intrusted  to  these 
important  offices. 

"  With  the  authority  and  local  resources 
placed  at  their  disposal,"  said  Buonaparte, 
"  the  prefects  were  themselves  emperors 
on  a  limited  scale  ;  and  as  they  had  no 
force  excepting  through  the  impulse  which 
they  received  from  the  throne,  as  they  owed 
their  whole  power  to  their  immediate  com- 
mission, and  as  they  had  no  authority  of  a 
personal  character,  they  were  of  as  much 
use  to  the  crown  as  the  former  high  agents 
of  government,  without  any  of  the  incon- 
veniences which  attached  to  their  prede- 
cessors."* It  was  by  means  of  the  prefects, 
that  an  impulse,  given  from  the  centre  of 
the  government,  was  communicated  with- 
out delay  to  the  extremities  of  the  kingdom, 
and  that  the  influence  of  the  crown,  and 
the  execution  of  its  commands,  were  trans- 
mitted, as  if  by  magic,  through  a  population 
of  forty  millions.  It  appears  that  Napoleon, 
while  describing  with  self-complacency 
this  terrible  engine  of  unlimited  power, 
felt  that  it  might  not  be  entirely  in  unison 
with  the  opinions  of  those  favourers  of  lib- 
eral institutions,  whose  sympathy  at  the 
close  of  life  he  thought  worthy  of  soliciting 
"  My  creating  that  power,"  he  said,  "was 
on  my  part  a  case  of  necessity.  I  was  a 
Dictator,  called  to  that  office  by  force  of 
circumstances.  There  was  a  necessity  that 
the  filaments  of  the  government  v.-hich  ex- 
tended over  the  state,  should  be  in  com- 
plete harmony  with  the  key-note  which  wss 
to  influence  them.  The  organization  which 
I  had  extended  over  the  empire,  required 
to  be  maintained  at  a  high  degree  of  ten- 
sion, and  to  possess  a  prodigious  force  of 
elasticity,  to  enable  it  to  resist  the  terrible 
blows  directed  against  it  without  cessa- 
tion."* His  defence  amounts  to  this.  '"The 
men  of  my  time  were  extravagantly  fond  of 
power,  exuberantly  att.ached  to  place  and 
wealth.  I  therefore  bribed  them  to  be- 
come my  agents  by  force  of  places  and 
pensions.  But  I  was  educating  the  suc- 
ceeding race  to  be  influenced  by  better 
motives.  RIy  son  would  have  been  sur- 
rounded by  youths  sensible  to  the  influence 
of  justice,  honour,  and  virtue;  and  those 
who  were  called  to  execute  public  duty, 
would  have  considered  their  doing  so  as  its 
own  reward." 

The  freedom  of  France  was  therefore 
postponed  till  the  return  of  a  Golden  .\ge, 
when  personal  aggrandizement  and  person- 
al wealth  should  cease  to  have  any  influ- 
ence upon  regenerated  humanity.  In  the 
meanwhile,  she  had  the  dictatorship  and  the 
prefects. 

The  impulse,  as  Napoleon  terms  it,  by 
which  the  crown  put  in  action  these  sub- 
ordinate agents  in  the  departments,,  was 
usually  given  by  means  of  a  circular  letter 
or  proclamation,  communicating  the  par- 
ticular measure  which  government  desired 
to  be  enforced.  This  was  subscribed  by 
the  minister  to  whose  department  the  af- 


*  Journal  de  la  Vie  privee  de  Napoleon,  &« 
vol.  IV. 


472 


LIFE  OF  JSAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.LVI. 


fair  belonged,  and  concluded  with  an  in- 
junction upon  the  prefect,  to  be  active  in 
forwarding  the  matter  enjoined,  as  he  val- 
ued the  favour  of  the  Emperor,  or  wished 
to  show  himself  devoted  to  the  interests  of 
the  crown.  Thus  conjured,  the  Prelect 
transmitted  the  order  to  the  sub-prefect 
and  mayors  of  the  communities  within  his 
department,  who,  stimulated  by  tlie  same 
motives  that  had  actuated  their  principal, 
endeavoured  each  to  distinguish  himself  by 
his  active  compliance  with  the  will  of  the 
Emperor,  and  thus  merit  a  favourable  re- 
port, as  the  active  and  unhesitating  agent 
of  his  pleasure. 

It  was  the  further  duty  of  tlie  prefects;  to 
see  that  all  honour  was  duly  performed  to- 
wards the  head  of  the  state,  upon  the  days 
appointed  for  public  rejoicings,  and  to  re- 
mind the  municipal  authorities  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  occasional  addresses  to  the  gov- 
ernment, declaring  their  admiration  of  the 
talents,  and  devotion  to  the  person,  of  the 
Emperor.  These  effusions  were  duly  pub- 
lished in  the  Moniteur,  and,  if  e.vamined 
closely,  would  afford  some  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary specimens  of  composition  which 
the  annals  of  flattery  can  produce.  It  is  suffi- 
cient to  say,  that  a  mayor,  we  believe  of 
Amiens,  affirmed  in  his  ecstasy  of  loyal  ado- 
ration, that  the  Deity,  after  making  Buona- 
parte, musthave  reposed,  as  after  the  crea- 
tion of  the  universe.  This,  and  similar  flights 
of  rhetoric,  may  appear  both  impious  and  ri- 
diculous, and  it  might  have  been  thought 
that  a  person  of  Napoleon's  sense  and  taste 
would  have  softened  or  suppressed  them. 
But  he  well  knew  the  influence  produced 
on  the  public  mind,  by  ringing  the  changes 
to  different  time  on  the  same  unvaried  sub- 
ject. The  ideas  which  are  often  repeated 
in  all  variety  of  language  and  expression, 
will  at  length  produce  an  effect  on  the  pub- 
lic mind,  especially  if  no  contradiction  is 
permitted  to  reach  it.  A  uniform  v.'hich 
may  look  ridiculous  on  a  single  individual, 
has  an  imposing  effect  when  worn  by  a 
large  body  of  men  ;  and  the  empiric,  whose 
extravagant  advertisement  we  ridicule  up- 
on the  first  perusal,  often  persuades  us,  by 
sheer  dint  of  repeating  his  own  praises,  to 
make  trial  of  his  medicine.  Those  who 
practise  calumny  know,  according  to  the 
vulgar  expression,  that  if  they  do  but  throw 
dirt  sufficient,  some  part  of  it  will  adhere  ; 
and  acting  on  the  same  principle,  for  a  con- 
trary purpose,  Buonaparte  was  well  aware, 
that  the  repetition  of  his  praises  in  these 
adulatory  addresses  was  calculated  finally 
to  make  an  impression  on  the  nation  at 
large,  and  to  obtain  a  degree  of  credit  as 
an  expression  of  public  opinion. 

Faber,  an  author  too  impassioned  to  ob- 
tiin  unlimited  credit,  has  given  several  in- 
stances of  ignorance  amongst  the  prefects  ; 
many  of  whom,  being  old  generals,  were 
void  of  the  information  necessary  for  the 
oxercise  of  a  civil  office,  and  all  of  whom, 
having  been,  upon  principle,  nominated  to 
a  sphere  of  action  with  the  local  circun;- 
(tances  of  which  they  were  previously  un- 
acquainted, were  sufficiently  liable  to  error. 
But  the  same  author  may  bo  fully  trusted, 


when  he  allows  that  the  prefects  could  not 
be  accused  of  depredation  or  rapine,  and 
that  such  of  them  as  improved  their  for- 
tune during  the  date  of  their  office,  did  so  by 
economising  upon  their  legitimate  allow 
ances. 

Such  was  the  outline  of  Napoleon's  pro- 
vincial administration,  and  of  the  agency  by 
which  it  was  carried  on,  without  check  or 
hesitation,  in  every  province  of  France  at 
the  same  moment.  The  machinery  has 
been  in  a  great  measure  retained  by  the 
royal  government,  to  whom  it  appeared 
preferable,  doubtless,  to  the  violent  altera- 
tions, which  an  attempt  to  restore  the  old 
appointments,  or  create  others  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind,  must  necessarily  have  occa- 
sioned. 

But  a  far  more  important  change,  intro- 
duced by  the  Emperor,  though  not  origina- 
ting with  him,  was  the  total  alteration  of  the 
laws  of  the  kingdom  of  France,  and  the  in- 
troduction of  that  celebrated  code  to  which 
Napoleon  assigned  his  name,  and  on  the 
execution  of  which  his  admirers  have  rest- 
ed his  claim  to  be  considered  as  a  great 
benefactor  to  the  country  v/hich  he  gov- 
erned. Bacon  had  indeed  informed  ue, 
that  when  laws  have  been  heaped  upon 
laws,  in  such  a  state  of  confusion  as  to  ren- 
der it  necessary  to  revise  them,  and  collect 
their  spirit  into  a  new  and  intelligible  sys- 
tem, those  who  accomplish  such  an  heroic 
task  have  a  good  right  to  be  named  amongst 
the  legislators  and  benefactors  of  mankind. 
It  had  been  the  reproach  of  France  before 
the  Revolution,  and  it  v/as  one  of  the  great 
evils  which  tended  to  produce  that  im- 
mense and  violent  change,  that  the  various 
provinces,  towns,  and  subordinate  divisions 
of  the  kingdom,  having  been  united  in  dif- 
ferent periods  to  the  general  body  of  tlie 
country,  had  retained  in  such  union  the 
exercise  of  their  own  particular  laws  and 
usages  5  to  the  astonishment,  as  well  as  to 
the  great  annoyance  of  the  traveller,  who,  in 
journeying  through  France,  found  that,  in 
many  important  particulars,  the  system  and 
character  of  the  laws  to  which  he  was  sub- 
jected, were  altered  almost  as  often  as  he 
changed  his  post-horses.  It  followed  from 
this  discrepancy  of  lasvs  and  subdivision 
of  jurisdiction,  that  the  greatest  hardships 
were  sustained  by  the  subjects,  more  espe- 
cially when,  the  district  being  of  small  ex- 
tent, those  authorities  who  acted  there  were 
likely  neither  to  have  experience,  nor  char- 
acter sufficient  for  exercise  of  the  trust  re- 
posed in  them. 

The  evils  attending  such  a  state  of  thine* 
had  been  long  felt,  and,  at  various  periods 
before  the  Revolution,  it  had  been  proposed 
repeatedly  to  institute  a  uniform  system  of 
legislation  for  the  whole  kingdom.  But  so 
many  different  interests  were  compromised, 
and  such  were,  besides,  the  pressing  occu- 
pations of  the  successive  administrations 
of  Louis  XV'I.,  and  his  grandfather,  that  the 
project  w.as  never  seriously  adopted  or  en- 
tered upon.  When,  however,  the  whole 
system  of  provinces,  districts,  and  feudal 
jurisdictions,  great  and  small,  had  fallen  at 
the  word  of  the  Abbe  Sieyes,  like  an  en- 


Chap.  L  K/.] 


LIFE  OF  N.VPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


473 


chanted  castle  at  the  dissolution  of  a  spell, 
and  their  various  laws,  whether  written  or 
consuetudinary,  were  buried  in  the  ruins,  all 
France,  now  united  into  one  single  and  in- 
tegral nation,  lay  open  to  receive  any  legis- 
lative code  which  tne  National  Assembly 
might  dictate.  But  the  revolutionary  spirit 
was  more  fitted  to  destroy  than  to  establish  ; 
and  was  more  bent  upon  the  pursuit  of  po- 
litical objects,  than  upon  affording  the  na- 
tion the  protection  of  just  and  equal  laws. 
Under  the  Directory,  two  or  three  attempts 
towards  classification  of  the  lav.s  had  been 
made  in  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred, but 
never  had  gone  farther  than  a  preliminary 
and  general  report.  Cambaceres,  an  excel- 
lent lawyer  and  en;ightened  statesman,  was 
one  of  the  first  to  solicit  the  attention  of  the 
state  to  this  great  and  indispensable  duty. 
The  various  successive  authorities  had  been 
content  with  passing  such  laws  as  affected 
popular  subjects  of  the  day,  and  w'lich  (like 
that  which  licensed  universal  divorce)  par- 
took of  the  extravagance  that  gave  them 
origin.  The  project  of  Cambaceres,  on  the 
contrary,  embraced  a  general  classification 
of  jurisprudence  through  all  its  branches,  al- 
though too  much  tainted,  it  is  said,  with  the 
prevailing  revolutionary  opinions  of  the  pe- 
riod, to  admit  its  being  taken  for  a  basis, 
when  Buonaparte,  after  his  elevation,  de- 
termined to  supersede  the  Republican  by 
Monarchical  forms  of  government. 

After  the  revolution  of  the  13lh  Bruraaire, 
Napoleon  saw  no  way  more  certain  of  assur- 
ing the  popularity  of  that  event,  and  connect- 
ing his  own  authority  with  the  public  inter- 
ests of  France,  than  to  resume  a  task  which 
former  rulers  of  the  Republic  had  thought 
too  heavy  to  be  undertaken,  and  thus, at  once, 
ehow  a  becoming  confidence  in  the  stabil- 
ity of  his  own  power,  and  a  laudable  desire 
of  exercising  it  for  the  permanent  advan- 
tage of  the  nation.  .\n  order  of  the  Consuls, 
dated  2-tt'.i  Thermidor,  in  the  year  VIII., 
directed  the  Minister  of  Justice,  with  a 
committee  of  lawyers  of  eminence,  to  ex- 
amine the  several  projects,  four  in  number, 
which  had  been  made  towards  compiling 
the  civil  code  of  national  law,  to  give  their 
opinion  on  the  plan  most  desirable  for  ac- 
complishing its  formation,  and  to  discuss 
the  bases  upon  which  legislation  in  civil 
matters  ought  to  be  rested. 

The  preliminary  discourse  upon  the  first 
project  of  the  civil  code,  is  remarkable  for 
the  manner  in  which  the  reporters  consider 
and  confute  the  general  and  illusory  views 
entertained  by  the  uninformed  part  of  the 
public,  upon  the  nature  of  the  task  to  which 
they  had  been  called.  It  is  the  common 
trnd  vulgar  idea,  that  the  system  of  legisla- 
tion may  be  reduced  and  simplified  into  a 
few  general  maxims  of  equity,  sufficient  to 
lead  any  judge  of  understanding  and  in- 
tegrity, to  a  just  decision  of  all  questions 
which  can  possibly  occur  betwixt  man  and 
man.  It  follows,  as  a  corollary  to  this 
proposition,  that  the  various  multiplications 
of  authorities,  exceptions,  particular  cases, 
and  especial  provisions,  which  have  been 
introduced  among  civilized  nations,  by  the 
address  of   those  of  the  legal  profession, 


are  just  so  many  expedients  to  embarrass 
the  simple  course  of  justice  with  arbitrary 
modifications  and  ref.aements,  in  order  to 
procure  wealth  and  consequence  to  those 
educated  to  the  law,  whose  assistance  must 
be  used  as  its  interpreters,  and  who  became 
rich  by  serving  litigants  as  guides  through 
the  labyrinth  of  obscurity  which  had  been 
raised  by  themselves  and  their  predeces- 
sors. 

Such  were  the  ideas  of  the  law  and  ita 
professors,  which  occurred  to  the  Parliament 
of  Praise-God  Barebones  when  they  propos 
cd  to  Cromwell  to  abrogate  the  whole  com- 
mon law  of  England,  and  dismiss  the  law- 
yers, as  drones  who  did  but  encumber  the 
national  hive.  Such  was  also  the  opinion 
of  many  of  the  French  statesmen,  who,  aa 
rash  in  judging  of  jurisprudence  as  in  poli- 
tics, imagined  that  a  system  of  maxims, 
modified  on  the  plan  of  the  twelve  tables 
of  the  ancient  Romans,  might  serve  all  the 
purposes  of  a  civil  code  in  modern  France. 
They  who  thought  in  this  manner  had  en- 
tirely forgotten,  how  soon  the  laws  of  these 
twelve  tables  became  totally  insufficient 
for  Rome  herself — how,  in  the  gradual 
change  of  manners,  some  laws  became  ob- 
solete, some  inapplicable — how  it  became 
necessary  to  provide  for  emerging  cases, 
successively  by  the  decrees  of  the  Senate, 
the  ordinances  of  the  people,  the  edicts  of 
the  Consuls,  the  regulations  of  the  Prastors, 
the  answers  or  opinions  of  learned  Juris- 
consults, and  finally,  by  the  rescripts,  edicts, 
and  novels  of  the  Emperors,  until  such  a 
mass  of  legislative  matter  was  assembled, 
as  scarcely  the  efforts  of  Theodosius  or 
Justinian  were  adequate  to  bring  into  order, 
or  reduce  to  principle.  But  this,  it  may  be 
said,  was  the  very  subject  complained  of. 
The  simplicity  of  the  old  laws,  it  may  be 
urged,  was  gradually  corrupted  ;  and  hence 
by  the  efforts  of  interested  men,  not  by  the 
natural  progress  of  society,  arose  the  com- 
plicated system,  which  is  the  object  of 
such  general  complaint. 

The  answer  to  this  is  obvious.  So  long 
as  society  remains  in  a  simple  state,  men 
have  occasions  for  few  and  simple  laws. 
But  when  that  society  begins  to  be  subdi- 
vided into  ranks  ;  when  duties  are  incur- 
red, and  obligations  contracted,  of  a  kind 
unknown  in  a  ruder  or  earlier  perioo,  these 
new  conditions,  new  duties,  and  new  obli- 
gations, must  be  regulated  by  new  rules  and 
ordinances,  which  accordingly  are  introduc- 
ed as  fast  as  they  are  wanted,  either  by  the 
course  of  long  custom,  or  by  precise  legia- 
lative  enactment.  There  is  no  doubt  one 
species  of  society  in  which  legislation  may 
be  much  simplified  ;  and  that  is,  where  the 
whole  law  of  the  country,  with  the  power 
of  enforcing  it,  is  allowed  to  reside  in  the 
bosom  of  the  King,  or  of  the  judge  who  is 
to  administe' justice.  Such  is  the  system 
of  Turkey,  where  the  Cadi  is  bound  by  no 
laws  nor  former  precedents,  save  what  his 
conscience  may  discover  from  perusing  the 
Koran.  But  so  apt  arc  mankind  to  abuRe 
unlimited  power,  and  indeed  so  utterly 
unfit  is  human  nature  to  possess  it,  that  in 
all  countries  where  the  judge  is  possessed 


474 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[CAop.  L  VI. 


of  such  arbitrary  jurisdiction,  he  is  found 
accessible  to  bribes,  or  liable  to  be  moved 
by  threats.  He  has  no  distinct  course  pre- 
scribed, no  beacon  on  wluch  to  direct  his 
vessel  ;  and  trims,  therefore,  his  sails  to 
the  Dursuit  of  his  own  profit. 

The  French  legislative  commissioners, 
with  these  views,  wisely  judged  it  their 
duty  to  produce  their  civil  code,  upon  such 
a  system  as  might  afford,  as  far  as  possible, 
protection  to  the  various  kinds  of  rights 
known  and  acknowledged  in  the  existing 
state  of  society.  Less  than  this  they  could 
not  do;  nor,  in  our  opinion,  is  their  code  as 
yet  adequate  to  attain  that  principal  object. 
By  the  implied  social  contract,  an  individ- 
ual surrenders  to  the  community  his  right 
of  protecting  and  avenging  himself,  under 
the  reserved  and  indispensable  condition 
that  the  public  law  shall  defend  him,  or 
punish  those  by  whom  he  has  sustained 
injury.  As  revenge  has  been  said  by  Bacon 
to  be  a  species  of  wild  justice,  so  the  indi- 
vidual pursuit  of  justice  is  often  a  modified 
and  legitimate  pursuit  of  revenge,  which 
ought,  indeed,  to  be  qualified  by  the  moral 
and  religioas  sentiments  of  the  party,  but 
to  which  law  is  bound  to  give  free  way,  in 
requital  for  the  bridle  which  she  imposes 
on  the  indulgence  of  man's  natural  pas- 
sions. The  course  of  litigation,  therefore, 
cannot  be  stopt ;  it  can  only  be  diminished, 
by  providing  before-liand  as  many  regula- 
tions as  will  embrace  the  greater  number 
of  cases  likely  to  occur,  and  trusting  to  the 
authority  of  the  judges  acting  upon  the 
spirit  of  the  law,  for  the  settlement  of 
such  as  cannot  be  decided  according  to  its 
letter. 

The  organization  of  this  great  national 
work  was  proceeded  in  with  the  caution  and 
deliberation  which  the  importance  of  the 
subject  eminently  deserved.  Dividing  the 
subjects  of  legislation  according  to  the  usu- 
al distinctions  of  jurisconsults,  the  commis- 
sioners commenced  by  the  publication  and 
application  of  the  laws  in  general ;  passed 
from  that  preliminary  subject  to  the  consid- 
eration of  personal  rights  under  all  their  va- 
rious relations  5  then  to  rights  respecting 
property  ;  and,  lastly,  to  those  legal  forms 
of  procedure,  by  which  the  rights  of  citi- 
zens, whether  arising  out  of  personal  cir- 
cumstances, or  as  connected  with  property, 
are  to  be  followed  forth,  explicated,  and  as- 
certained. Thus  adopting  the  division,  and 
in  some  degree  the  forms,  of  the  Institutes 
of  Justinian,  the  commission  proceeded,  ac- 
cording to  the  same  model,  to  consider  each 
subdivision  of  this  general  arrangement,  and 
adopt  respecting  each  such  maxims  or  bro- 
cards  of  general  law,  as  were  to  form  the  fu- 
ture basis  of  French  jurisprudence.  Their 
general  principles  being  carefully  connect- 
ed and  fixed,  the  ingenuity  of  the  commis- 
sioners was  exerted  in  deducing  from  them 
such  a  number  of  corollaries  and  subordi- 
nate maxims,  as  might  provide,  so  far  as  hu- 
man ingenuity  could,  for  the  infinite  num- 
ber of  questions  that  were  likely  to  emerge 
on  the  practical  application  of  the  general 
principles  to  the  varied  and  intricate  trans- 
actions of  human  life.     It  may  be  easily  sup- 


posed, that  a  task  so  difficult  gave  rise  to 
much  discussion  among  the  commissioners  : 
and  as  their  Report,  when  fully  weighed 
among  themselves,  was  again  subjected  to 
the  Council  of  State,  before  it  was  proposed 
to  the  Legislative  Body,  it  must  be  allowed, 
that  every  means  which  could  be  devised 
v.'ere  employed  in  maturely  considering  and 
revising  the  great  body  of  national  law, 
which  finally,  under  the  name  of  the  Code 
Napoleon,  was  adopted  by  France,  and  con- 
tinues, under  the  title  of  the  Civil  Code,  to 
be  the  law  by  which  her  subjects  still  pos- 
sess and  enforce  their  civil  rights. 

It  would  be  doing  much  injustice  to  Na- 
poleon, to  suppress  the  great  personal  inter- 
est, which,  amid  so  many  calls  upon  his 
time,  he  nevertheless  took  in  the  labours  of 
the  commission.  He  frequently  attended 
their  meetings,  or  those  of  the  Council  of 
State,  in  which  their  labours  underv^xnt  re- 
vision ;  and,  though  he  must  be  supposed 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  complicated  system 
of  jurisprudence  as  a  science,  yet  his  acute, 
calculating,  and  argumentative  mind  ena- 
bled him,  by  the  broad  views  of  genius  and 
good  sense,  often  to  get  rid  of  those  subtle- 
ties by  which  professional  persons  are  occa- 
sionally embarrassed  ;  and  to  treat  as  cob- 
webs, difRculties  of  a  technical  or  meta- 
physical character,  which,  to  the  juriscon- 
sults, had  the  appearance  of  bonds  and  fet- 
ters. ,, 

There  were  times,  however,  on  the  other 
hand,  when  Napoleon  was  led,  by  the  obvi- 
ous and  vulgar  views  of  a  question,  to  pro- 
pose alterations  which  would  have  been  fa- 
tal to  the  administration  of  justice,  and  the 
gradual  enlargement  and  improvement  of 
municipal  law.  Such  was  liis  idea,  that  ad- 
vocates and  solicitors  ought  only  to  be  paid 
in  the  event  of  the  cause  being  decided  in 
favour  of  their  client ;  a  regulation  which, 
had  he  ever  adopted  it,  would  have  gone  far 
to  close  the  gates  of  justice ;  since,  what 
practitioner  would  have  forfeited  at  once 
one  large  portion  of  the  means  of  his  exist- 
ence, and  consented  to  rest  the  other  upon 
the  uncertainty  of  a  gambling  transaction  ? 
A  lawyer  is  no  more  answerable  for  not 
gaining  his  cause,  than  a  horse-jockey  for 
not  winning  the  race.  Neither  can  foretell 
with  any  certainty  the  event  of  the  struggltf^ 
and  each,  in  justice,  can  only  be  held  liabje 
for  the  utmost  exertion  of  his  skill  and  abili- 
ties. Napoleon  was  not  aware,  that  litiga- 
tion is  not  to  be  checked  by  preventing 
law-suits  from  coming  into  court,  but  by  a 
systematic  and  sage  course  of  trying  and  de- 
ciding points  of  importance,  which,  being 
once  settled  betwixt  two  litigants,  cannot, 
in  the  same  shape,  or  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, be  again  the  subject  of  dispute 
among  others. 

The  Civil  Code  of  Napoleon  is  accom- 
panied by  a  code  of  procedure  in  civil  cas- 
es, and  a  code  relating  to  commercial  af- 
fairs, which  may  be  regarded  as  supplemen- 
tal to  the  main  body  of  municipal  law. 
There  is,  besides,  a  Penal  Code,  and  a  code 
respecting  the  procedure  against  persons 
accused  under  it.  The  whole  forms  a  grand 
system  of  jurisprudence,  drawn  up  by  the 


Chap  LVI] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


475 


most  enlightened  men  of  the  age,  having 
access  to  all  the  materials  which  the  past 
and  the  present  times  afford  ;  and  it  is  not 
surprising  that  it  should  have  been  received 
as  a  great  boon  by  a  nation,  who,  in  some 
sense,  may  be  said,  previous  to  its  establish- 
ment, to  have  been  without  any  fixed  or  cer- 
tain municipal  law  since  the  date  of  the 
Revolution. 

But,  while  we  admit  the  full  merit  of  the 
Civil  Code  of  France,  we  are  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  observing,  that  the  very  symme- 
try and  theoretical  consistency,  which  form 
at  first  view  its  principal  beauty,  render  it, 
when  examined  closely,  less  fit  for  the  ac- 
tual purposes  of  jurisprudence,  than  a  sys- 
tem of  national  law,  which,  having  never  un- 
dergone the  same  operation  of  compression, 
and  abridgment,  and  condensation,  to  which 
that  of  France  was  necessarily  subjected, 
spreads  through  a  multiplicity  of  volumes, 
embraces  an  immense  collection  of  prece- 
dents, and,  to  the  eye  of  inexperience, 
seems,  in  comparison  of  the  compact  size 
and  regular  form  of  the  French  Code,  a 
labyrinth  to  which  no  clue  is  afforded.  It 
is  of  the  greater  importance  to  give  this  sub- 

1'ect  some  consideration,  because  it  has  of 
ate  been  fashionable  to  draw  comparisons 
between  the  jurisprudence  of  England  and 
that  of  France,  and  even  to  urge  the  neces- 
sity of  new-modelling  the  former  upon  such 
a  concise  and  systematic  plan  as  the  latter 
exhibits. 

In  arguing  this  point,  we  suppose  it  will 
be  granted,  that  that  code  of  institutions  is 
the  most  perfect,  which  most  effectually 
provides  for  every  difficult  case  as  it  emer- 
ges, and  therefore  averts  as  far  as  possible 
the  occurrence  of  doubt,  and,  of  course,  of 
litigation,  by  giving  the  most  accurate  and 
certain  interpretation  to  the  general  rule, 
when  applied  to  cases  as  they  arise.  Now, 
in  this  point,  which  comprehends  the  very 
essence  and  end  of  all  jurisprudence, — the 
protection,  namely,  of  the  rights  of  the 
individual, — the  English  law  is  preferable 
to  the  French  in  an  incalculable  degree  ; 
because  each  principle  of  English  law  has 
been  the  subject  of  illustration  for  many 
ages,  by  the  most  learned  and  wise  judges, 
acting  upon  pleadings  conducted  by  the 
most  acute  and  ingenious  men  of  each  suc- 
cessive age.  This  current  of  legal  judg- 
ments has  been  flowing  for  centuries,  de- 
ciding, as  they  occurred,  every  question  of 
doubt  which  could  arise  upon  the  applica- 
tion of  general  principles  to  particular  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  each  individual  case,  so 
decided,  fills  up  some  point  which  was  pre- 
viously disputable,  and,  becoming  a  rule  for 
similar  questions,  tends  to  that  extent  to  di- 
minish the  debateable  ground  of  doubt  and 
argument  with  which  the  law  must  be  sur- 
rounded, like  an  unknown  territory  when  it 
is  first  partially  discovered. 

It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  French  juriscon- 
sults, that  they  did  not  possess  the  mass 
of  legal  authority  arising  out  of  a  regular 
course  of  decisions  by  a  long  succession 
of  judges  competent  to  the  task,  and  pro- 
ceeding, not  upon  hypothetical  cases  sup- 
posed by  themselves,  and  subject  only  to 


the  investigation  of  their  own  minds,  but 
upon  such  as  then  actually  occurred  in 
practice,  and  had  been  fully  canvassed  and 
argued  in  open  court.  The  French  law- 
yers had  not  the  advantage  of  referring  to 
such  a  train  of  decisions ;  each  settling 
some  new  point,  or  ascertaining  and  con- 
firming some  one  which  had  been  con- 
sidered as  questionable.  By  the  Revolu- 
tion the  ancient  French  courts  had  been 
destroyed,  together  with  their  records: 
their  proceedings  only  served  as  matter  of 
history  or  tradition,  but  could  not  be  quo- 
ted in  support  or  explanation  of  a  code 
which  had  no  existence  until  after  their 
destruction.  The  commissioners  endeav- 
oured, we  have  seen,  to  supply  this  defect 
in  their  system,  by  drawing  from  their  gen- 
eral rules  such  a  number  of  corollary  prop- 
ositions, as  might  so  far  as  possible  serve 
for  their  application  to  special  and  particu- 
lar cases.  But  rules,  founded  in  imaginary 
cases,  can  never  have  the  same  weight  with 
precedents  emerging  in  actual  practice, 
where  the  previous  exertions  of  the  law- 
yers have  put  the  case  in  every  possible 
light,  and  where  the  judge  comes  to, the  de- 
cision, not  as  the  theorist,  whose  opinion  re- 
lates only  to  an  ideal  hypothesis  of  his  own 
mind,  but  as  the  solemn  arbiter  of  justice 
betwixt  man  and  man,  after  having  attended 
to,  and  profited  by,  the  collision  and  con- 
flict of  opposite  opinions,  urged  by  those 
best  qualified  to  state  and  to  illustrate  them. 
The  value  of  such  discussion  is  well 
known  to  all  who  have  experience  of  courts 
of  justice,  where  it  is  never  thought  sur- 
prising to  hear  the  wisest  judge  confess 
that  he  came  into  court  with  a  view  of  the 
case  at  issue  wholly  different  from  that 
which  he  was  induced  to  form  after  having 
given  the  requisite  attention  to  the  debate 
before  him.  But  this  is  an  advantage 
which  can  never  be  gained,  unless  in  the 
discussion  of  a  real  case  ;  and  therefore  the 
opinion  of  a  judge,  given  iota  re  cog^xita, 
must  always  be  a  more  valuable  precedent, 
than  that  which  the  same  learned  individu- 
al could  form  upon  an  abstract  and  hypo- 
thetical question. 

It  is,  besides,  to  be  considered,  that  the 
most  fertile  ingenuity  with  which  any  legis- 
lator can  be  endued,  is  limited  within  cer- 
tain bounds  ;  and  that  when  he  has  racked 
his  brain  to  provide  for  all  the  ideal  cases 
which  his  prolific  imagination  can  supply, 
it  will  be  found  that  he  has  not  anticipated 
or  provided  for  the  hundredth  part  of  the 
questions  which  are  sure  to  occur  in  ac- 
tual practice.  To  make  a  practical  appli- 
cation of  what  we  have  stated,  to  the  rela- 
tive jurisprudence  of  France  and  England, 
it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  Title  V.  of 
the  1st  Book  of  the  Civil  Code,  upon  the 
subject  of  marriage,  contains  only  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty-one  propositions  respecting 
the  rights  of  parties,  arising  in  different  cir- 
cumstances out  of  that  contract,  the  most 
important  known  in  civilized  society.  If  we 
deduce  from  this  gross  amount,  the  great 
number  of  rules  which  are  not  doctrinal,  but 
have  only  reference  to  the  forms  of  pro- 
cedure, the  result  will  be  greatly  diminish- 


476 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


iChap.LVL 


ed.  The  English  law,  on  the  other  hand,  be- 
sides its  legislative  enactments,  is  guarded, 
as  appears  from  Roper's  Index,  by  no  less 
than  a  thousand  decided  cases,  or  prece- 
dents, each  of  which  affords  ground  to  rule 
any  other  case  in  similar  circumstances. 
In  this  view,  the  certainty  of  the  law  of 
England,  compared  to  that  of  France,  bears 
the  proportion  rf  ten  to  one. 

It  is,  therefore,  a  vulgar,  though  a  natural 
and  pleasing  error,  to  prefer  the  simplicity 
of  an  ingenious  and  philosophic  code  of  ju- 
risprudence, to  a  system  which  has  grown 
up  with  a  nation,  augmented  with  its  wants, 
extended  according  to  its  civilization,  and 
only  become  cumbrous  and  complicated, 
because  the  state  of  society  to  which  it  ap- 
plies has  itself  given  rise  to  a  complication 
of  relative  situations,  to  all  of  which  the 
law  is  under  the  necessity  of  adapting  it- 
self. In  this  point  of  view,  the  Code  of 
France  may  be  compared  to  a  warehouse 
built  with  much  attention  to  architectural 
uniformity,  showy  in  the  exterior,  and 
pleasing  from  the  simplicity  of  its  plan,  but 
too  small  to  hold  the  quantity  of  goods  ne- 
essary  to  supply  the  public  demand;  while 
the  Common  Law  of  England  resembles 
the  vaults  of  some  huge  Gothic  building, 
dark  indeed,  and  ill  arranged,  but  contain- 
ing an  immense  store  of  commodities, 
which  those  acquainted  with  its  recesses 
seldom  /ail  to  be  able  to  produce  to  such 
as  have  occasion  for  them.  The  practiques, 
or  adjudged  cases,  in  fact,  form  a  breakwa- 
ter, as  it  were,  to  protect  the  more  formal 
bulwark  of  the  statute  law ;  and  although 
they  cannot  be  regularly  jointed  or  dove- 
tailed together,  each  independent  decision 
fills  its  space  on  the  mound,  and  offers  a 
degree  of  resistance  to  innovation,  and  pro- 
tection to  the  law,  in  proportion  to  its  own 
weight  and  importance. 

The  certainty  of  the  English  jurispru- 
dence, (for,  in  spite  of  the  ordinary  opinion 
to  the  contrary,  it  has  acquired  a  compara- 
tive degree  of  certainty,)  rests  upon  the 
multitude  of  its  decisions.  The  views  which 
a  man  is  disposed  to  entertain  of  his  own 
lights,  under  the  general  provisions  of  the 
law,  are  usually  controlled  by  some  previ- 
ous decision  on  the  case  ;  and  a  reference 
to  precedents,  furnished  by  a  person  of 
skill,  saves,  in  most  instances,  the  expense 
and  trouble  of  a  law-suit,  which  is  thus  sti- 
fled in  its  very  birth.  If  we  are  rightly  in- 
formed, the  number  of  actions  at  common 
law,  tried  in  England  yearly,  does  not  ex- 
ceed betwixt  five-and-twenty  and  thirty  on 
an  average,  from  each  county  ;  an  incredi- 
bly small  number,  when  the  wealth  of  the 
kingdom  is  considered,  as  well  as  the  va- 
rious and  complicated  transactions  incident 
to  the  advanced  and  artificial  state  of  soci- 
ety in  which  we  live. 

But  we  regard  the  multitude  of  prece- 
dents in  English  law  as  eminently  favour- 
able, not  only  to  the  certainty  of  the  law, 
but  to  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  and  es- 
pecially as  a  check  upon  any  judge,  who 
might  be  disposed  to  innovate  either  upon 
the  rights  or  liberties  of  the  lieges.  If  a 
general  theoretical  maxim  of  law  be  pre- 


sented to  an  unconscientious  or  partial 
judge,  he  may  feci  himself  at  liberty,  by 
exerting  his  ingenuity,  to  warp  the  right 
cause  the  wrong  way.  But  if  he  is  bound 
down  by  the  decisions  of  his  wise  and  learn- 
ed predecessors,  that  judge  would  be  ven- 
turous indeed,  who  should  attempt  to  tread 
a  different  and  more  devious  path,  than  that 
which  is  marked  by  the  venerable  traces  of 
their  footsteps  ;  especially,  as  he  well  knows 
that  the  professional  persons  around  him, 
who  might  be  blinded  by  the  glare  of  his 
ingenuity  in  merely  theoretical  argument, 
are  perfectly  capable  of  observing  and  con- 
demning every  departure  from  precedent.* 
In  such  a  case  he  becomes  sensible,  that, 
fettered  as  he  is  by  previous  decisions,  the 
law  is  in  his  hands,  to  be  administered  in- 
deed, but  not  to  be  altered  or  tampered 
with  ;  and  that  if  the  evidence  be  read  in 
the  court,  there  are  and  must  be  many  pres- 
ent, who  know  as  well  as  himself,  what 
must,  according  to  precedent,  be  the  ver- 
dict, or  the  decision.  These  are  considera- 
tions which  never  can  restrain  or  fetter  a 
judge,  who  is  only  called  upon  to  give  his 
own  explanation  of  the  general  principle 
briefly  expressed  in  a  short  code,  and  sus- 
ceptible therefore  t)f  a  variety  of  interpreta- 
tions, from  which  he  may  at  pleasure  se- 
lect that  which  may  be  most  favourable 
to  his  unconscientious  or  partial  purposes. 
It  follows,  also,  from  the  paucity  of  laws 
afforded  by  a  code  constructed  not  by  the 
growth  of  time,  but  suggested  by  the  inge 
nuity  of  theorists  suddenly  called  to  the 
task,  and,  considering  its  immense  impor 
tance,  executing  it  in  haste,  that  many  pro- 
visions, most  important  for  the  exercise  of 
justice,  must,  of  course,  be  neglected  in 
the  French  Code.  For  example,  the  whole 
law  of  evidence,  the  very  key  and  corner- 
stone of  justice  between  man  and  man,  has 
been  strangely  overlooked  in  the  French 
jurisprudence.  It  is  plain,  that  litigation 
may  proceed  for  ever,  unless  there  be  some 
previous  adjustment  (called  technically  an 
issue)  betwixt  the  parties,  at  the  sight  of 
the  judge,  tending  to  ascertaiAheir  aver- 
ments in  point  of  fact,  as  also  the  relevancy 
of  those  averments  to  the  determination  of 
the  cause.  In  England,  chiefly  during  the 
course  of  last  century,  the  Law  of  Evidence 
has  grown  up  to  a  degree  of  perfection, 
which  has  tended,  perhaps  more  than  any 
other  cause,  at  once  to  prevent  and  to 
shorten  litigation.  If  we  pass  from  the  civil 
to  the  penal  code  of  procedure  in  France, 
the  British  lawyer  is  yet  more  shocked  by 
a  course,  which  seems  in  his  view  totally 
to  invert  and  confound  every  idea  which  he 
has  received  upon  the  law  of  evidence. 
Our  law,  it  is  well  known,  is  in  nothing  so 
scrupulous  as  in  any  conduct  towards  the 
prisoner,  which  may  have  the  most  indirect 
tendency  to  entrap  him  into  bearing  evi- 
dence against  himself.     Law  sympathizes 


*  The  intelligent  reader  will  easily  be  aware, 
that  we  mean  not  to  say  that  every  decision  of 
Iheir  predecessors  is  necessarily  binding  on  the 
jiidges  of  the  day.  Laws  themselves  become  obso- 
lete, and  so  do  the  decisions  which  have  maintain- 
ed and  enforced  them. 


Chop.  L  VJ.] 


in  such  a  case  with  the  frailties  of  humani- 
ty, and,  aware  of  the  consequence  which 
judicial  inquiries  must  always  have  on  the 
mind  of  the  timid  and  ignorant,  never  push- 
es the  examination  of  a  suspected  person 
farther  than  he  himself,  in  the  natural  hope 
of  giving  such  an  account  of  himself  as  may 
procure  his  liberty,  shall  choose  to  reply  to  it. 

In  France,  on  the  contrary,  the  whole 
trial  sometimes  resolves  into  a  continued 
examination  and  cross-examination  of  the 
prisoner,  who  is  not  only  under  the  neces- 
sity of  giving  his  original  statement  of  the 
circumstances  on  which  he  founds  his  de- 
fence, but  is  confronted  repeatedly  with 
the  witnesses,  and  repeatedly  required  to 
reconcile  his  own  statement  of  the  case 
with  that  which  these  nave  averred.  With 
respect  to  the  character  of  evidence,  the 
same  looseness  of  practice  exists.  Xo  dis- 
tinction seems  to  be  made  between  that 
which  is  hearsay  and  that  which  is  direct; 
that  which  is  spontaneously  given,  and  that 
which  is  extracted,  or  perhaps  suggested,  by 
leading  questions.  All  this  is  contrary  to 
what  we  are  taught  to  consider  as  the  es- 
sence of  justice  towards  the  accused.  The 
use  of  the  rack  is,  indeed,  no  longer  admit- 
ted to  extort  the  confession,  but  the  mode 
of  judicial  examination  seems  to  us  a  spe- 
cies of  moral  torture,  under  which  a  timid 
and  ignorant,  though  innocent  man,  is  very 
likely  to  be  involved  in  such  contradictions 
and  inextricable  confusion,  that  he  may  be 
under  the  necessity  of  throwing  away  his 
life  by  not  knowing  how  to  frame  his  defence. 

We  shall  not  protract  these  remarks  on 
the  Code  Napoleon  ;  the  rather  that  we 
must  frankly  confess,  that  the  manners  and 
customs  of  a  country  make  the  greatest  dif- 
ference with  respect  to  its  laws,  and  that 
a  system  may  work  well  in  France,  and 
answer  all  the  purposes  of  jurisprudence, 
which  in  England  would  be  thought  very 
inadequate  to  tlie  purpose.  The  humane 
institution  which  allows  the  accused  the 
benefit  of  counsel,  is  a  privilege  which  the 
English  law  does  not  permit  to  the  accused, 
and  may  have  its  own  weight  in  counter- 
balancing some  of  the  inconveniences  to 
which  he  is  subjected  in  France.  It  seems 
also  probable,  that  tlie  deficiencies  in  the 
Code,  arising  from  its  recent  origin  and 
compressed  form,  must  be  gradually  reme- 
died as  in  England,  by  the  course  of  decis- 
ions pronounced  by  intelligent  and  learned 
judges ;  and  that  what  we  now  state  as  an 
objection  to  the  system,  will  gradually  dis- 
appear under  the  influence  of  time. 

Considered  as  a  production  of  human  sci- 
ence, and  a  manual  of  legislative  sagacity, 
the  Code  may  challenge  general  admiration 
for  the  clear  and  wise  manner  in  which  the 
aiionis  are  drawn  up  and  expressed.  There 
are  but  few  peculiarities  making  a  differ- 
ence betwixt  its  principles  and  those  of  the 
Roman  law,  which  has  in  most  contracts 
claimed  to  be  considered  as  the  mother  of 
judicial  regulation.  The  most  remarkable 
occurs,  perhaps,  in  the  articles  regulating 
what  is  called  the  Family  Council ;  a  sub- 
ject which  does  not  seem  of  importance 
■ufGcient  to  claim  much  attention. 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUON.\PARTE. 


Art 


I  The  Civil  Code  being  thus  ascertained 
1  provision  was  made  for  its  regular  admini»- 
I  tration  by  suitable  courts  ;  the  judges  ot 
which  did  not,  as  before  the  Revolution, 
depend  for  their  emoluments  upon  ffees 
payable  by  the  litigants,  but  were  compen- 
sated by  suitable  salaries  at  the  expense  of 
the  public.  As  France  docs  not  supply  that 
class  of  persons  who  form  what  is  called  in 
England  the  unpaid  magistracy,  the  French 
justices  of  peace  received  a  small  salary  of 
from  80  to  180  francs.  Above  them  in  rank 
came  judges  in  the  first  instance,  whose 
salaries  amounted  to  3000  francs  at  the  ut- 
most. The  judges  ofthe  supreme  tribunals 
enjoyed  about  four  or  five  thousand  francs  ; 
and  those  ofthe  High  Court  of  Cassation 
had  not  more  than  ten  thousand  francs, 
which  scarcely  enabled  them  to  live  and 
keep  some  rank  in  the  metropolis.  But, 
though  thus  underpaid,  the  situation  of  the 
i'rench  judges  was  honourable  in  the  eyes 
ofthe  country,  and  they  maintained  its  char- 
acter by  activity  and  impartiality  in  their 
judicial  functions. 

The  system  of  juries  had  been  introduced 
in  criminal  cases,  by  the  acclamation  of  the 
Assembly,  Buonaparte  found  them,  how- 
ever, scrupulously  restive  and  troublesome. 
There  may  be  some  truth  in  the  charge, 
that  they  were  averse  from  conviction, 
where  a  loop-hole  remained  for  acquitting 
the  criminal ;  and  that  many  audacious 
crimes  remained  unpunished,  from  the 
punctilious  view  which  the  juries  took  of 
their  duty.  But  it  was  from  other  motives 
than  those  ofthe  public  weal  that  Napoleon 
made  an  early  use  of  his  power,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  forniing  special  tribunals,  invested 
with  a  half-military  character,  to  fry  all  swch 
crimes  as  assumed  a  political  complexion, 
with  power  to  condemn  without  the  suffrage 
of  a  jury.  We  have  already  alluded  to  this 
infringement  of  the  most  valuable  political 
rights  of  the  subject,  in  giving  some  ac- 
count of  the  trials  of  Georges,  Pichegru, 
and  Moreau.  No  jury  would  ever  have 
brought  in  a  verdict  against  the  latter, 
whose  sole  crime  was  his  communication 
with  Pichegru  ;  a  point  of  suspicion  cer- 
tainly, but  no  proof  whatever  of  positive 
guilt.  Political  causes  being  out  of  the 
field,  the  trial  by  jury  was  retained  in  the 
French  Code,  so  far  as  regarded  criminal 
questions  ;  and  the  general  administration 
of  justice  seems  to  have  been  very  well  cal- 
culated for  protecting  the  right,  and  punish- 
ing that  which  is  wrong. 

The  fiscal  operations  of  Buonaparte  were 
those  of  which  the  subjects  complained  the 
most,  as  indeed  these  are  generally  th^ 
grievance  to  which  the  people  in  every 
country  arc  the  most  sensible.  High  taxes 
were  imposed  on  the  French  people,  ren- 
dered necessary  by  the  expenses  of  the  gov- 
ernment, whicii,  with  all  its  accompani- 
ments, were  very  considerable  ;  and  al- 
though Buonaparte  did  all  in  his  power  to 
throw  the  charge  of  the  eternal  wars  which 
he  waged  upon  the  countries  which  he  ov- 
erran or  subdued,  yet  so  far  does  the  waste 
of  war  exceed  any  emolument  which  tha 
armed  hand  can  wrest  from  the  sufTerera 


478 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEOK  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chc^.  LVl. 


BO  imperfecta  proportion  do  the  gains  of  the 
victor  bear  to  the  losses  of  the  vanquished, 
that  after  all  the  revenue  which  was  deriv- 
ed from  foreign  countries,  the  continital 
campaigns  of  the  Emperor  proved  a  con- 
stant and  severe  drain  upon  the  produce  of 
French  industry.  So  rich,  however,  is  the 
soil  of  France,  such  is  the  extent  of  her  re- 
sources, such  the  patience  and  activity  of 
her  inhabitants,  that  she  is  qualified,  if  not 
to  produce  at  once  the  large  capitals  which 
England  can  raise  upon  her  national  credit, 
yet  to  support  the  payment  of  a  train  of  hea- 
vy annual  imposts  for  a  much  longer  period, 
and  with  less  practical  inconvenience.  The 
agriculture  of  France  had  been  extremely 
improved  since  the  breaking  up  of  the  great 
estates  into  smaller  portions,  and  the  abro- 
gation of  those  feudal  burdens  which  had 
pressed  upon  the  cultivators;  and  it  might 
be  considered  as  flourishing,  in  spite  of  war 
taxes,  and,  what  was  worse,  the  conscrip- 
tion itself.  Under  a  fixed  and  secure, 
though  a  severe  and  despotic  government, 
property  was  protected,  and  agriculture  re- 
ceived the  best  encouragement,  namely,  the 
certainty  conferred  on  the  cultivator  of  reap- 
ing the  crop  which  he  sowed. 

It  was  far  otherwise  with  commerce, 
which  the  maritime  war,  carried  on  so  long 
and  with  such  unmitigated  severity,  had 
very  much  injured,  and  the  utter  destruc- 
tion of  which  was  in  a  manner  perfected  by 
Buonaparte's  adherence  to  the  continental 
system.  This,  indeed,  was  the  instrument 
by  which  in  the  long  run  he  hoped  to  ruin 
the  commerce  of  his  rival,  but  the  whole 
weight  of  which  fell  in  the  first  instance  on 
that  of  France,  whose  sea-ports  showed  no 
other  shipping  save  coasters  and  fishing- ves- 
sels ;  while  the  trade  of  Marseilles,  Bour- 
deaux,  Nantes,  and  other  great  commercial 
towns,  had  in  a  great  measure  ceased  to  ex- 
ist. The  government  of  the  Emperor  was 
proportionally  unpopular  in  those  cities  ; 
and  although  men  kept  silence,  because  sur- 
rounded by  the  spies  of  a  jealous  and  watch- 
ful despotism,  their  dislike  to  the  existing 
state  of  things  could  not  entirely  be  con- 
cealed. 

On  the  other  hand,  capitalists,  who  had 
sums  invested  in  the  public  funds,  or  who 
were  concerned  with  the  extensive  and  ben- 
eficial contracts  for  the  equipment  and  sup- 
ply of  Napoleon's  large  armies,  with  all  the 
numerous  and  influential  persons  upon 
whom  any  part  of  the  gathering  in  or  expen- 
diture of  tlie  public  money  devolved,  were 
necessarily  devoted  to  a  government,  under 
which,  in  spite  of  the  Emperor's  vigilance, 
immense  profits  were  often  derived,  even 
after  tliosc  by  whom  they  were  made  had 
rendered  to  the  ministers,  or  perhaps  the 
generals,  by  whom  they  were  protected,  a 
due  portion  of  the  spoil.  Economist  and 
calculator  as  he  was,  to  a  most  superior  de- 
gree of  excellence.  Napoleon  seems  to  have 
been  utterly  unable,  if  he  really  sincerely 
desired,  to  put  an  end  to  the  peculations  of 
those  whom  he  trusted  with  power.  He  fre- 
quently, during  his  conversations  at  St.  Hel- 
ena, alludes  to  the  venality  and  corruption 
of  such  as  he  employed  in  the  highest  offi- 


ces, but  whose  sordid  practices  seemed  nev- 
er to  have  occurred  to  him  in  the  way  of 
objection  to  his  making  use  of  their  talents. 
Foucho,  Talleyrand,  and  others,  are  thua 
stigmatized ;  and  as  we  well  know  how  long, 
and  upon  how  many  diflerent  occasions,  he 
employed  those  statesmen,  we  cannot  but 
supp<jse  that  whatever  may  have  been  his 
sentiments  as  to  the  men,  he  was  perfectly 
willing  to  compound  with  their  peculation, 
in  order  to  have  the  advantage  of  their  abili- 
ties. Even  when  practices  of  this  kind 
were  too  gross  to  be  passed  over,  Napo- 
leon's mode  of  censuring  and  repressing 
them  was  not  adapted  to  show  a  pure  sense 
of  morality  on  his  own  part,  or  any  desire  to 
use  extraordinary  rigour  in  preventing  them 
in  future.  Tliis  conclusion  we  form  l>ora 
the  following  anecdote  which  he  communi- 
cated to  Las  Cases: — 

Speaking  of  generals,  and  praising  the  dis- 
interestedness of  some,  he  adds,  Massena, 
Augereau,  Bruiie,  and  others,  were  undaunt- 
ed depredators.  Upon  one  occasion,  the 
rapacity  of  the  firstof  these  generals  had  ex- 
ceeded the  patience  of  the  Emperor.  His 
mode  of  punishing  him  was  peculiar.  He 
did  not  dispossess  him  of  the  command,  of 
which  he  had  rendered  himself  unworthy 
by  such  an  unsoldier-like  vice — he  did  not 
strip  tlie  depredator  by  judicial  sentence  of 
his  ill-won  gains,  and  restore  them  to  those 
from  whom  they  were  plundered — but,  in 
order  to  make  tlie  general  sensible  that  he 
had  proceeded  too  far,  Buonaparte  drew  a 
bill  upon  the  banker  of  the  delinquent,  for 
the  sum  of  two  or  three  millions  of  francs, 
to  be  placed  to  Mas.sena's  debit,  and  the 
credit  of  the  drawer.  Great  was  the  embar- 
rassment of  the  banker,  who  dared  not  re- 
fuse the  Imperial  order,  while  he  numbly 
hesitated,  that  he  could  not  safely  honour  it 
without  the  autliority  of  his  principal.  "  Pay 
the  money,"  was  the  Emperor's  reply, 
"  and  let  Massena  refuse  to  give  you  credit 
at  his  peril."  The  money  was  paid  accord- 
ingly, and  placed  to  that  general's  debit, 
without  his  venturing  to  start  any  objections. 
This  was  not  punishing  peculation,  but  par- 
taking in  its  gains  ;  and  the  spirit  of  the 
transaction  approached  nearly  to  that  de- 
scribed by  Le  Sage,  where  the  Spanish  min- 
ister of  state  insists  on  sharing  the  bribes 
given  to  his  secretary. 

Junot,  in  like  manner,  who,  upon  his  re- 
turn from  Portugal,  gave  general  scandal  by 
the  display  of  diamonds,  and  other  wealth, 
which  he  had  acquired  in  that  oppressed 
country,  received  from  Buonaparte  a  friend- 
ly hint  to  be  more  cautious  in  such  exhibi- 
tions. But  liis  acknowledged  rapacity  was 
never  thought  of  as  a  reason  disqualifying 
him  for  being  presently  afterwards  sent  to 
the  government  of  Illyria. 

We  are  infos  med  in  another  of  the  Em- 
peror's communications,  that  his  Council  of 
State  was  of  admir.ible  use  to  him  in  the  se- 
vere inquisition  wliich  he  was  desirous  of 
making  into  the  public  accounts.  The  pro- 
ceedings of  this  Star  Chamber,  and  the  fear 
of  being  transmitted  to  the  cognition  of  the 
Grand  Judge,  usually  brought  the  culprits  to 
cohaposition  ;  and  when  they  had  disgorged 


Chap.  L  V/.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


479 


one,  two,  or  three  millions,  the  govern- 
ment was  enriched,  or,  according  to  Buona- 
parte's ideas,  the  laws  were  satisfied.*  The 
truth  seems  to  be,  that  Buonaparte,  though 
he  contemned  wealth  in  his  own  person, 
was  aware  that  avarice,  which,  after  all,  is 
but  a  secondary  and  sordid  species  of  ambi- 
tion, is  the  most  powerful  motive  to  mean 
and  vulgar  minds  ;  and  he  willingly  advanc- 
ed gold  to  those  who  chose  to  prey  upon  it, 
80  long  as  their  efforts  facilitated  his  pos- 
sessing and  retaining  the  unlimited  authori- 
ty to  which  he  had  reached.  In  a  country 
where  distress  and  disaster  of  every  kind, 
public  and  private,  had  enabled  many  to 
raise  large  fortunes  by  brokerage  and  agio- 
tage, a  monied  interest  of  a  peculiar  char- 
acter was  soon  formed,  whose  liopes  were 
of  course  rested  on  the  wonderful  ruler,  by 
whose  gigantic  ambition  new  schemes  of 
speculation  were  opened  in  constant  suc- 
cession, and  whose  unrivalled  talents  seem- 
ed to  have  found  the  art  of  crowning  the 
most  difficult  undertakings  with  success. 

It  might  be  thought  that  the  manufactur- 
ing interest  must  have  perished  in  France, 
ftom  the  same  reasons  which  so  strongly  and 
unfavourably  afflicted  the  commerce  of  that 
country.  In  ceasing  to  import,  there  must 
indeed  have  been  a  corresponding  diminu- 
tion of  the  demand  for  goods  to  be  exported, 
whether  these  were  tlie  growth  of  the  soil, 
or  the  productions  of  French  labour.  Ac- 
cordingly, this  result  had  in  a  great  degree 
taken  place,  and  there  was  a  decrease  to 
a  large  amount  in  those  goods  which  the 
French  were  accustomed  to  export  in  ex- 
change for  the  various  commodities  suppli- 
ed to  them  by  British  trade.  But,  though 
the  real  and  legitimate  stimulus  to  manufac- 
tures had  thus  ceased,  Napoleon  had  sub- 
stituted an  artificial  one,  which  had,  to  a 
certain  extent,  supplied  the  place  of  the 
natural  trade.  We  must  remark,  that  Na- 
poleon, practically  and  personally  frugal, 
was  totally  a  stranger  to  the  science  of  Po- 
litical Economy.  He  never  received  oracl- 
ed upon  the  idea,  that  a  liberal  system  of 
commerce  operates  most  widely  in  diffusing 
the  productions  which  arc  usually  the  sub- 
jects of  exchange,  and  in  affording  to  every 
country  the  greatest  share  of  the  bounties 
of  nature,  or  the  produce  of  industry  at  the 
easiest  rates.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  pro- 
ceeded to  act  against  the  commerce  of  Eng- 
land, as,  in  a  military  capacity,  he  would 
have  done  in  regard  to  the  water  which  sup- 
plied a  besieged  city.  He  strove  to  cut  it 
ofT,  and  altogether  to  destroy  it,  and  to  sup- 
ply the  absence  of  its  productions  by  such 
substitutes  as  France  could  furnish.  Hence, 
the  factitious  encouragement  given  to  the 
French  manufactures,  not  by  the  natural 
demand  of  the  country,  but  by  the  bounties 
and  prohibitions  by  which  they  were  guard- 
ed. Hence,  the  desperate  efforts  made  to 
produce  a  species  of  sugar  from  various  sub- 
stances, especially  from  the  beet-root.  To 
this  unnatural  and  unthrifty  experiment, 
Buonaparte  used  to  attach  so  much  conse- 
quence, that  a  piece  of  the  new  composi- 


*  Las  Casea,  Tom.  I.  partie  2de,  p.  -270. 


tion,  which,  with  much  time  and  trouble, 
had  been  made  to  approximate  the  quality 
of  ordinary  loaf-sugar,  was  preserved  in  a 
glass-case  over  the  Imperial  mantle-piece  ; 
and  a  pound  or  two  of  beet-sugar,  highly  re- 
fined, was  sent  to  foreign  courts,  to  illus- 
trate the  means  by  which  Napoleon  consol- 
ed his  subjects  for  the  evils  incumbent  on 
the  continental  system.  No  way  of  flatter- 
ing or  gratifying  the  Emperor  was  so  cer- 
tain, as  to  appear  eager  in  supporting  these 
views  ;  and  it  is  said  that  one  of  his  gener- 
als, when  tottering  in  the  Imperial  good  gra- 
ces, regained  the  favour  of  his  master,  by 
planting  the  whole  of  a  considerable  estate 
with  beetroot.  In  these,  and  on  similar 
occasions.  Napoleon,  in  his  eager  desire  to 
produce  the  commodity  desiderated,  be- 
came regardless  of  those  considerations 
which  a  manufacturer  first  ascertains  when 
about  to  commence  his  operations,  namely, 
the  expense  at  which  the  article  can  be  pro- 
duced, the  price  at  which  it  can  be  disposed 
of',  and  its  fitness  for  the  market  which  it  is 
intended  to  supply.  The  various  encour- 
agements given  to  the  cotton  manufacturers, 
and  others,  in  France,  by  whicli  it  was  de- 
signed to  supply  the  want  of  British  goods, 
proceeded  upon  a  system  equally  illiberal 
and  impolitic.  Still,  however,  the  expen- 
sive bounties,  and  forced  sales,  which  the 
influence  of  government  afforded,  enabled 
these  manufacturers  to  proceed,  and  furnish- 
ed employment  to  a  certain  number  of  men, 
who  were  naturally  grateful  for  the  protec- 
tion which  they  received  from  the  Empe- 
ror. In  the  same  manner,  although  no  arti- 
ficial jet-d'eau,  upon  the  grandest  scale  of 
expense,  can  so  much  refresh  the  face  of 
nature,  as  the  gentle  and  general  influence 
of  a  natural  shower,  the  former  v.'ill  never- 
theless have  the  effect  of  feeding  and  nour- 
ishing such  vegetable  productions  as  are 
within  the  reach  of  its  limited  influence.  It 
was  thus,  that  the  efforts  of  Napoleon  at  en- 
couraging arts  and  manufactures,  though 
proceeding  on  mistaken  principles,  produc- 
ed, in  the  first  instance,  results  apparently 
beneficial. 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  observe 
the  immense  public  works  which  were  un- 
dertaken at  the  expense  of  Buonaparte's 
government.  Temples,  bridges,  and  aque- 
ducts, are,  indeed,  the  coin  with  which 
arbitrary  princes,  in  all  ages,  have  endeav- 
oured to  compensate  for  the  liberty  of 
which  the  people  are  deprived.  Such 
monuments  are  popular  v,  ith  the  citizens, 
because  the  enjoyment  of  them  is  common 
to  all,  and  the  monarch  is  partial  to  a  style 
of  expenditure  promising  more  plausibly 
than  any  other,  to  extend  tljc  memory  of 
liis  present  greatness  far  into  the  bosom  of 
futurity.  Buonaparte  was  not.  and  could 
not  be,  insensible  to  either  of  these  mo- 
tives. His  mind  was  too  much  enlarged  to 
seek  enjoyment  in  any  of  the  ordinary  ob- 
jects of  exclusive  gratification;  and  un- 
doubtedly ,  he  who  had  done  so  much  to  die- 
tinguish  himself  during  his  life  above  ordi- 
nary mortals,  must  have  naturally  desired 
th.it  his  public  works  should  preserve  hi^a 
fame  to  futuie  »ges      Accoidingtv,  he   un 


480 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  L  VI. 


dertook  and  executed  some  of  tlie  most 
splendid  labours  of  modern  times.  Tlie 
road  over  the  Simplon,  and  the  basins  at 
Antwerp,  may  be  always  appealed  to  as 
gigantic  specimens  of  his  public  spirit. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  we  have  before  hint- 
ed, Napoleon  sometimes  aimed  at  producing 
immediate  effect,  by  proposals  and  plans 
hastily  adopted,  as  hastily  decreed,  and 
given  in  full  form  to  the  government  jour- 
nal;  but  which  were  either  abandpned  im- 
mediately after  having  been  commenced, 
or  perhaps,  never  advanced  farther  than 
the  plan  announced  in  the  Moniteur.  Buo- 
naparte's habits  of  activity,  his  powers  of 
deciding  with  a  single  glance  upon  most 
points  of  either  military  or  civil  engineer- 
ing, were  liberally  drawn  upon  to  strike  liis 
Bubjects  with  wonder  and  admiration.  Dur- 
ing the  few  peaceful  intervals  of  his  reign, 
his  impatience  of  inaction  found  amuse- 
ment in  traversing,  with  great  rapidity,  and 
often  on  the  shortest  notice,  the  various  de- 
partments in  France.  Travelling  with  in- 
credible celerity,  though  usually  accom- 
panied by  the  Empress  Josephine,  he  had 
no  sooner  visited  any  town  of  consequence, 
than  he  threw  himself  on  horseback,  and, 
followed  only  by  his  aid-de-camp  and  his 
mameluke  Rustan,  who  with  difficulty  kept 
him  in  view,  he  took  a  flying  survey  of  the 
place,  its  capacities  of  improvement,  or  the 
inconveniences  which  attached  to  it.  With 
this  local  knowledge,  thus  rapidly  acquired, 
he  gave  audience  to  the  municipal  authori- 
ties, and  overwhelmed  them  very  often 
with  liberal  and  long  details  concerning  tiie 
place  rou^id  which  he  had  galloped  for  the 
first  time,  but  in  which  they  had  spent  their 
days,  .\mazement  at  the  extent  and  facili- 
ty of  the  Emperor's  powers  of  observation, 
was  thus  universally  excited,  and  his  hints 
v/ere  recorded  in  the  Moniteur,  for  the 
admiration  of  France.  Some  public  work, 
solicited  by  the  municipality,  or  suggested 
by  the  enlightened  benevolence  of  the  Em- 
peror himself,  was  then  projected,  but 
which,  in  many,  if  not  most  cases,  remain- 
ed unexecuted  ;  the  imperial  funds  not  be- 
ing in  all  circumstances  adequate  to  the 
splendour  of  Napoleon's  undertakings,  or, 
which  was  the  more  frequent  case,  some 
new  absorbing  war,  or  project  of  ambition, 
occasioning  exery  other  object  of  expendi- 
ture to  be  postponed. 

Even  if  some  of  Buonaparte's  most  mag- 
nificent works  of  public  splendour  had 
been  completed,  there  is  room  to  doubt 
whether  they  would  have  been  attended 
with  real  advantage  to  hie  power,  bearing 
he  least  proportion  to  the  influence  which 
their  grandeur  necessarily  produces  upon 
the  imagination.  We  look  with  admira- 
tion, and  indeed  with  astonishment,  on  the 
splendid  dockyards  of  the  Scheldt ;  but  had 
they  been  accomplished,  what  availed  the 
building  of  first-rates,  which  France  could 
hardly  find  sailors  to  man  ;  which,  being 
manned,  dared  not  venture  out  of  the  river  j 
or,  hazarding  themselves  upon  the  ocean, 
were  sure  to  become  the  prizes  of  (he  first 
British  men-of-war  with  whom  they  chanc- 
ed to  encounter?  Almost  all  this  profuse 


expense  went  to  the  mere  purposes  of  vain- 
glory ;  for  more  mischief  would  have  been 
done  to  British  commerce,  which  Buona- 
parte knew  well  was  the  assailable  point,  by 
six  privateers  from  Dunkirk,  than  all  the 
ships  of  the  line  which  he  could  build  at  the 
new  and  most  expensive  dock-yard  of  Ant- 
werp, with  Brest  and  Toulon  to  boot. 

In  such  cases  as  these.  Napoleon  did,  in 
a  most  efficient  manner,  thatwhich  he  ridi- 
culed the  Directory  for  being  unable  to  do 
— he  wrought  on  the  imagination  of  the 
French  nation,  which  indeed  had  been  al- 
ready so  dazzled  by  the  extraordinary  things 
he  had  accomplished,  that,  had  he  promised 
them  still  greater  prodigies  than  were  im- 
plied in  the  magnificent  works  which  he 
directed  to  be  founded,  they  might  still 
have  been  justified  in  expecting  the  per- 
formance of  his  predictions.  And  it  must 
be  admitted,  looking  around  the  city  of 
Paris,  and  travelling  through  the  provinces 
of  France,  tliat  Buonaparte  has,  in  the 
works  of  peaceful  grandeur^  left  a  stamp  of 
magnificence,  not  unworthy  of  the  soaring 
and  at  the  same  time  profound  spirit, 
which  accomplished  so  many  wonders  in 
warfare. 

The  persona!  and  family  life  of  Napoleon 
was  skilfully  adapted  to  his  pre-eminent 
station.  If  he  had  foibles  connected  with 
pleasure  and  passion,  they  were  so  careful- 
ly veiled  as  to  remain  unknown  to  the 
world — at  If^ast,  they  were  not  manifested 
by  any.  of  those  weaknesses  which  might 
serve  to  lower  the  Emperor  to  the  stamp 
of  common  men.  His  conduct  towards  the 
Empress  Josephine  was  regular  and  exem- 
plary. From  their  accession  to  grandeur 
till  the  fatal  divorce,  as  Napoleon  once 
termed  it,  they  shared  the  privacy  of  tlio 
same  apartment,  and  tor  many  years  par- 
took the  same  bed.  Josephine  is  said,  in- 
deed, to  have  given  her  husband,  upon 
whom  she  had  many  claims,  some  annoy- 
ance by  her  jealousy,  to  which  he  patiently 
submitted,  and  escaped  the  reproach  thrown 
on  so  many  heroes  and  men  of  genius,  that, 
proof  to  every  thing  else,  they  are  not  so 
against  the  allurements  of  female  seduction. 
VVhat  amours  he  had  were  of  a  passing 
character.  No  woman,  excepting  Jose- 
phine and  her  successor,  who  exercised 
their  lawful  and  rightful  influence,  was  ever 
known  to  possess  any  power  over  him. 

The  dignity  of  his  throne  was  splendidly 
and  magnificently  maintained,  but  the  ex- 
pense was  still  limited  by  that  love  of  or- 
der which  arose  out  of  Buonaparte's  pow- 
ers of  arithmetical  calculation  habitually 
and  constantly  employed,  and  the  trusting 
to  which,  contributed,  it  may  be.  to  that 
external  rogularity  and  decorum  which  he 
always  supported.  In  speaking  of  his  own 
peculiar  taste.  Buonaparte  said  that  his  fa- 
vourite work  was  abook  of  logarithms,  and 
his  choicest  amusement  was  working  out 
the  problems.  The  individual  to  whom  the 
Emperor  made  this  singular  avowal  men- 
tioned it  with  surprise  to  an  officer  ncir 
his  person,  wljo  assured  him.  that  not  only 
did  Napoleon  amuse  himself  with  arithme- 
tical ciph'jrs,  and  the  theory  of  conjputa- 


Chap.  L  VI.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


^J'l 


tion,  but  that  he  frequently  brought  it  to 
bear  on  his  domestic  expenses,  and  diverted 
himself  with  comparing  the  price  at  which 
particular  articles  were  charged  to  him, 
with  the  rate  which  they  ought  to  have  cost 
at  the  fair  market  price,  but  which,  for  rea- 
sons unnecessary  to  state,  was  in  general 
greatly  exceeded.  Las  Cases  mentions  his 
detecting  sjch  an  overcharge  in  the  gold 
fringe  which  adorned  one  of  his  slate 
apartments.  A  still  more  curious  anec- 
dote respects  a  watch  which  the  most  em- 
inent artist  of  Paris  had  orders  to  finish  with 
his  utmost  skill,  in  a  style  which  might  be- 
come a  gift  from  the  Emperor  of  France  to 
his  brother  the  King  of  Spain.  Before  the 
watch  was  out  of  the  artist's  hands,  Napo- 
leon received  news  of  the  battle  of  Vitto- 
ria.  "  All  is  now  over  with  Joseph,"  were 
almost  his  first  words  after  receiving  the  in- 
telligence. "  Send  to  countermand  the  or- 
der for  the  watch."* 

Properly  considered,  this  anecdote  indi- 
cates no  indifierence  as  to  his  brother's  fate, 
nor  anxiety  about  saving  a  petty  sum  5  it 
was  the  rigid  calculation  of  a  professed  ac- 
countant, whose  habits  of  accuracy  induce 
him  to  bring  every  loss  to  a  distant  balance, 
however  trivial  the  off-set  may  be.  But  al- 
though the  Emperor's  economy  descended 
to  minute  trifles,  we  are  not  to  suppose 
that  among  such  was  its  natural  sphere. 
On  the  contrary,  in  the  first  year  of  the 
Consulate,  he  discovered  and  rectified  an 
error  in  the  statement  of  the  revenue,  to 
tne  amount  of  no  less  than  two  millions  of 
francs,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  state.  In 
another  instance,  with  the  skill  which  only 
a  natural  taste  for  calculation  brought  to 
excellence  by  constant  practice  could  have 
attained,  he  discovered  an  enormous  over- 
charge of  more  than  sixty  thousand  francs 
in  the  pay-accounts  of  the  garrison  of  Pa- 
ris. Two  such  discoveries,  by  the  head  ma- 
gistrate, must  have  gone  far  to  secure  regu- 
larity in  the  departments  in  which  they 
were  made,  in  future. 

Attending  to  this  remarkable  peculiarity 
throws  much  light  on  the  character  of 
Buonaparte.  It  was  by  dint  of  his  rapid 
and  powerful  combinations  that  he  suc- 
ceeded as  a  general ;  and  the  same  laws  of 
calculation  can  be  traced  through  much  of 
hi8  public  and  private  life. 

Tne  palace  charges,  and  ordinary  expen- 
ses of  the  Emperor,  were  completely  and 
aocurately  re^rulated  by  his  Imperial   Ma- 

i'esty's  own  calculation.  He  boasted  to 
lave  so  simplified  the  expenditure  of  the 
ancient  Kings  of  France,  that  his  hunting 
establishmeut,  though  maintained  in  the  ut- 
most splendour,  cost  a  considerable  sum  less 
than  that  of  the  Bourbons.  But  it  must  be 
recollected,  first,  that  Napoleon  was  free 
from  the  obligation  which  subjected  the 
Boar'v.ons  to  the  extravagant  expenses  which 
attended  the  high  appointments  of  their 
household;  secondly,  that  under  the  Im- 
perial government,  the  whole  establishment 


•  The  watch,  half  completed,  remained  in  the 
haodi  of  the  artist,  and  is  now  the  property  of  the 
Dtike  of  Wellington. 

Vol.  I.  W 


of  falconry  was  abolished ;  a  sport  which 
is,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  more  strikingly 
!  picturesque  and  interesting  than  any  other 
I  variety  of  the  chase  ;  and  which,  as  it  infers 
;  a  royal  expense,  belongs  properly  to  sovo 
I  reign  princes. 

j  The  Imperial  court  was  distinguished  not 
I  only  by  a  severe  etiquette,  but  the  gran- 
dees, by  whom  its  principal  duties  were 
discharged,  were  given  to  understand, 
that  the  utmost  magnificence  of  dress  and 
equipage  was  required  from  them  upon 
public  occasions.  It  was,  indeed,  a  sub- 
ject of  complaint  amongst  the  servants  of 
the  Crown,  that  though  Buonaparte  was  in 
many  respects  attentive  to  their  interests, 
gave  them  opportunities  of  acquiring  wealth, 
invested  them  with  large  donations  and  en- 
dowments, and  frequently  assisted  them 
with  an  influence  not  easily  withstood  i;i 
the  accomplishment  of  advantageous  mar- 
riages ;  yet  still  the  gceat  expenditure  r.t 
which  they  were  required  to  support  their 
appearance  at  the  Imperial  court,  prevented 
their  realizing  any  fortune  which  could  pro- 
vide effectually  for  their  family.  The  ex- 
pense Buonaparte  loved  to  represent,  ns  a 
tax  which  he  made  his  courtiers  pay  to  sup- 
port the  manufactures  of  France  ;  but  it  was- 
extended  so  far  as  to  show  plainly,  that, 
determined  as  he  was  to  establish  his  no- 
bility on  such  a  scale  as  to  grace  his  court, 
it  was  far  from  being  his  purpose  to  percut 
them  to  assume  any  real  power,  or  to  form 
an  existing  and  influential  bai-rier  between 
the  crown  and  the  people.  The  same  in- 
ference is  to  be  drawn  from  the  law  of 
France  concerning  succession  in  landed 
property,  which  is  in  ordinary  cases  equal- 
ly divided  amongst  the  children  of  the  de- 
ceased ;  a  circumstance  which  must  effect- 
ually prevent  the  rise  of  great  hereditary 
influence.  And  although,  for  the  support 
of  dignities  granted  by  the  Crown,  and  rn 
some  other  cases,  an  entail  of  a  portion  of 
the  favoured  person's  estate,  called-a  Ma--^ 
jorat,  is  permitteJ  to  follow  the  title,  yet 
the  proportion  is  so  small  as  to  give  no  con- 
siderable weight  to  those  upon-  whom  it  de- 
volves. 

The  composition  of  Buonaparte's  court 
was  singular.  Amid  his  military  Dukes 
and  Mareschals  were  mingled  many  de- 
scendants of  tlic  old  noblesse,  who  had 
been  struck  out  of  the  lists  of  emigration. 
On  these  Buonaparte  spread  the  cruel  re- 
proach, "1  offered  them  rank  in  wy  arriu 
— they  declined  the  service; — 1  opened 
my  antichanibers  to  them — they  rushed  in 
and  filled  them."  In  this  \.h-:  Emperor  did 
not  do  justice  to  the  aneie.nt  noblesse  of 
P'rance.  A  great  many  resumed  tlieir  nui- 
ural  situation  in  the  military  ranks  of  their 
country,  and  a  still  greater  number  declin- 
ed, in  any  capacity,  to  bend  the  knee  to  hi.ti 
whom  they  could  only  consider  :js  a  suc- 
cessful usurper. 

The  ceremonial  of  theTuillerics  was  up- 
on the  most  splendid  scale,  the  public  festi- 
vals were  held  with  the  utmost  magnifi- 
cence, and  the  etiquette  w;is  of  the  most 
strict  and  indefeasible  character.  To  all 
this    Buonaparte    himself  Jttached   conse- 


482 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  L  VI. 


quencc,  as  ceremonies  characterizing  the 
spirit  and  dignity  of  his  government;  and 
he  had  drilled  even  his  own  mind  into  a 
veneration  for  all  those  outward  forms  con- 
nected with  royalty,  as  accurately  as  if 
Iney  had  been  during  his  whole  life  the 
special  subject  of  his  attention.  There  is  a 
curious  example  given  by  Monsieur  Las 
Cases.  Buonaparte,  in  good-humoured  tri- 
fling, had  given  his  tbllower  the  titles  of 
your  highness,  your  lordship,  and  so  forth, 
amidst  which  it  occurred  to  him,  in  a  fit 
of  abstraction,  to  use  the  phrase,  "Your 
Majesty."  The  instant  that  the  word,  sa- 
cred to  his  own  ears,  had  escaped  him,  the 
humour  of  frolic  was  ended,  and  he  resum- 
ed a  serious  tone,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
feels  that  he  his  let  his  pleasantry  trespass 
upon  an  unbecoming  and  almost  hallowed 
subject. 

There  are  many  of  Buonaparte's  friends 
and  followers,  bred,  like  himself,  under  the 
influence  of  the  Revolution,  who  doubted 
the  policy  of  his  entering  into  such  a  strain 
of  imitation  of  the  ancient  courts  of  Europe, 
and  of  his  appearing  anxious  to  emulate 
them  in  the  only  points  in  which  he  must 
.".ccessarUy  fail,  aa'^jquity  and  long  observ- 
ance giving  to  ancient  usageS  an  effect  up- 
on the  imagination,  which  could  not  pos- 
sibly attach  to  the  same  ceremonial  intro- 
duced into  a  court  of  yesterday.  These 
would  willingly  have  seen  the  dignity  of 
their  master's  court  rested  upon  its  real 
nnd  pre-eminent  importance,  and  would 
hive  desired,  that  though  Republican  prin- 
ciples were  abandoned,  something  of  the 
severe  and  manly  simplicity  of  Republican 
manners  should  have  continued  to  charac- 
terize a  throne  whose  site  rested  upon  the 
Revolution.  The  courtiers  who  neld  such 
'ipinions  were  at  liberty  to  draw  consola- 
tion from  the  personal  appearance  and  hab- 
its of  Napoleon.  Amid  the  gleam  of  em- 
broidery, of  orders,  decorations,  and  all 
that  the  etiquette  of  a  court  demands  to 
render  ceremonial  at  once  accurate  and 
splendid,  the  person  of  the  Emperor  was  to 
be  distinguished  by  his  extreme  simplicity 
of  dress  and  deportment.  A  plain  uniform, 
•with  a  hat  having  no  other  ornament  than 
a  small  three-coloured  cockade,  was  the 
^Jr-^ss  of  him  who  bestowed  all  these  gor- 
■geous  decorations,  and  in  honour  of  whom 
these  costly  robes  of  ceremonial  had  been 
exhibited.  Perhaps  Napoleon  might  be  of 
opinion,  that  a  person  under  the  common 
size,  and  in  his  latter  days  somewhat  cor- 
pulent, was  unfit  for  the  display  of  rich 
■dresses;  or  it  is  more  likely  he  desired  to 
intimate,  that  although  he  exacted  from 
others  the  strict  observance  of  etiquette, 
he  held  that  the  Imperial  dignity  placed 
h>m  above  any  reciprocal  obligation  towards 
them. 

Perhpps,  also,  in  limiting  his  personal  ex- 
penses, and  avoiding  that  of  a  splendid  roy- 
al wardrobe,  Buonaparte  mignt  indulge  that 
love  of  calculation  and  order,  which  we 
have  noticed  as  a  leading  point  of  his  char- 
acter. But  his  utmost  efforts  could  not  car- 
ry a  similar  spirit  of  economy  among  the  fe- 
male part  of  his  Imperial  family ;  ood  it  may 


be  a  consolation  to  persons  of  less  conse 
quence  to  know,  that  in  tiiis  respect  the  Em« 
peror  of  half  the  world  was  nearly  as  pow-' 
erless  as  they  may  feel   themselves  to  be. 
Josephine,  with  all  her  amiable  qualities, 
was  profuse,  after  the  general  custom  of 
Creoles,  and  Pauline   de  Borghese  was  no, 
less  so.     The  efforts  of  Napoleon  to  limit 
their  expenses,  sometimes  gave  rise  to  sin- 
gular scenes.     Upon  one  occasion,  the  Em- 
peror found  in  company  of  Josephine  a  cer-. 
tain  milliner  of  high  reputation  and.  equal^^ 
expense,  with  whom  he  had  discharged  hial 
wife    to   have   any  dealings.     Incensed  at; 
this  breach  of  his  orders,  he  directed  the 
marchande  des  modes  to  be  conducted  tor 
the  Bicetre  ;  but  the  number  of  carriages 
which  brought  the  wives  of  his  principal 
courtiers  to  consult  her  in  captivity,  con- 
vinced him  that  the  popularity  of  the  milli-  ^ 
ner  was  too  powerful  even  for  his  Imperial  41 
authority  ;  so  he  wisely  dropped  a  conten-  ■ 
tion  which  must  have  seemed  ludicrous  to  I 
the  public,  and  the  artist  was  set  at  liberty,  I 
to  charm  and  pillage  the  gay  world  of  Paris  I 
at  her  own  pleasure. 

On  another  occasion,  the  irregularity  of 
Josephine  in  the  article  of  expense,  led  to 
an  incident  which  reminds  us  of  an  anec- 
dote in  the  history  rf  some  Oriental  Sultan. 
A  creditor  of  the  Empress,  become  despe 
rate  from  delay,  stopped  the  Imperial  ca 
leche,  in  which  the  Emperor  was  leaving  St. 
Cloud,  with  Josephine  by  his  side,  and  pre 
sented  his  account,  with  a  request  of  pay- 
ment. Buonaparte  did  as  Saladin  woulc 
have  done  in  similar  circumstances — he  for 
gave  the  man's  boldness  in  consideration  of 
the  justice  of  his  claim,  and  caused  the  debt 
to  be  immediately  settled.  In  fact,  while 
blaming  the  expense  and  irregularity  which 
occasioned  such  demands,  his  sense  of  jus- 
tice, and  his  family  affection  equally  inclin- 
ed him  to  satisfy  the  creditor. 

The  same  love  of  order,  as  a  ruling  prin- 
ciple of  his  government,  must  have  render- 
ed Buonaparte  a  severe  censor  of  all  public 
breaches  of  the  decencies  of  society.  Pub- 
lic morals  are  in  themselves  the  accom- 
plishment and  fulfilment  of  all  laws  ;  they 
alone  constitute  a  national  code.  Accord- 
ingly, the  manners  of  the  Imperial  court 
were  under  such  regulation  as  to  escape 
public  scandal,  if  they  were  not  beyond  se- 
cret suspicion.*  In  the  same  manner, 
gambling,  the  natural  and  favourite  vice  of 
a  court,  was  not  practised  in  that  of  Buona- 
parte, who  discountenanced  high  play  by 
every  means  in  his  power.  But  he  suffered 
it  to  be  licensed  to  an  immense  and  fright- 
ful extent,  by  the  minister  of  his  police; 
nor  can  we  give  him  the  least  credit  when 
he  affirms,  that  the  gambling-houses  which 
paid  such  immense  rents  to  Fouche,  existed 
without  his  knowledge.  Napoleon's  own 
assertion  cannot  make  us  believe  tiiathe. 
was  ignorant  of  the  principal  source  ofreT* 

*  We  again  repeat,  that  we  totaUy  disl)elie*» 
the  gross  infamies  imputed  to  Napoleon  within  hit 
own  family,  although  sanctioned  by  the  evidcnM 
of  tlie  Memoirs  of  Fouche.  Neither  Buonapart«*i 
propensities  nor  his  faults  were  those  of  a  ro|a^ 
tuarjr. 


Chap.  L  VII.^ 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


483 


enue  which  supported  his  police.  He  com- 
pounded, on  this  as  on  other  occasions, 
with  a  good  will,  in  consideration  of  the 
personal  advantage  which  he  derived  from  it. 

In  the  public  amusements  of  a  more  gen- 
eral kind,  Buonaparte  took  a  deep  interest. 
He  often  attended  the  theatre,  though  com- 
monly in  private,  and  without  eclat.  His 
own  taste,  as  well  as  political  circumstan- 
ces, led  him  to  encourage  the  amusements 
of  the  stage ;  and  the  celebrated  Talma, 
whose  decided  talents  placed  him  at  the 
head  of  the  French  performers,  received, 
as  well  in  personal  notice  from  the  Empe- 
ror, as  through  the  more  substantial  medi- 
um of  a  pension,  an  assurance,  that  the 
kindness  which  he  had  shown  in  early  youth 
to  the  little  Corsican  student  had  not  been 
forgotten.  The  strictest  care  was  taken 
that  nothing  should  be  admitted  on  the  stage 
which  could  awaken  feelings  or  recollec- 
tions unfavourable  to  the  Imperial  Govern- 
ment. When  the  acute  wit  of  the  Parisian 
audience  seized  on  some  expression  or  inci- 
dent which  had  any  analogy  to  public  affairs, 
the  greatest  pains  were  taken,  not  only  to 
prevent  the  circumstance  from  recurring, 
but  even  to  hinder  it  from  getting  into  gen- 
eral circulation.  This  secrecy  respecting 
what  occurred  in  public,  could  not  be  attain- 
ed in  a  free  country,  but  was  easily  accom- 
plished in  one  where  the  public  papers,  the 
general  organs  of  intelligence,  were  under 
the  strict  and  unremitted  vigilance  of  the 
government. 

There  were  periods  when  Buonaparte,  in 
order  to  gain  the  approbation  and  sympathy 
of  those  who  claim  the  exclusive  title  of 
lovers  of  liberty,  was  not  unwilling  to  be 
thought  the  friend  of  liberal  opinions,  and 
was  heard  to  express  himself  in  favour  of 
the  liberty  of  the  press,  and  other  checks 
upon  the  executive  authority.  To  reconcile 
his  opinions  (or  rather  what  he  threw  out  as 
his  opinions)  with  a  practice  diametrically 
opposite,  was  no  easy  matter,  yet  he  some- 
times attempted  it.  On  observing  one  or 
two  persons,  who  had  been  his  silent  and 
surprised  auditors  on  such  an  occasion,  un- 
able to  suppress  some  appearance  of  incre- 
dulity, he  immediately  entered  upon  his  de- 
fence. "  I  am,"  he  said,  "  at  bottom,  and 
naturally,  for  a  fixed  and  limited  govern- 
ment. You  seem  not  to  believe  me,  per- 
haps because  you  conceive  my  opinions  and 
practice  are  at  variance.  But  you  do  not 
consider  the  necessity  arising  out  of  persons 
and  circumstances.     Were  I  to  relax  the 


reins  for  an  instant,  you  would  see  a  gener- 
al confusion.  Neither  you  nor  I,  probably 
would  spend  another  night  in  the  Tuille 
ries." 

Such  declarations  have  often  been  found 
in  the  mouths  of  those,  who  have  seized  up- 
on an  unlawful  degree  of  authority  over 
their  species.  Cromwell  was  forced  to  dis- 
solve the  Parliament,  though  he  besought 
the  Lord  rather  to  slay  him.  State  necessi- 
ty is  the  usual  plea  of  tyrants,  by  which 
they  seek  to  impose  on  themselves  and  oth- 
ers ;  and,  by  resorting  to  such  an  apology, 
they  pay  that  tribute  to  truth  in  their  lan- 
guage, to  which  their  practice  is  in  the 
most  decided  opposition.  But  if  there  are 
any  to  whom  such  an  excuse  may  appear 
valid,  what  can  be,  or  must  be,  their  senti- 
ments of  the  French  Revolution,  which,  in- 
stead of  leading  to  national  liberty,  equality, 
and  general  happiness,  brought  the  country 
into  such  a  condition,  that  a  victorious  sol- 
dier was  obliged,  contrary  to  the  conviction 
of  his  own  conscience,  to  assume  the  des- 
potic power,  and  subject  the  whole  empire 
to  the  same  arbitrary  rules  which  directed 
the  followers  of  his  camp  1 

The  press,  at  no  time,  and  in  no  civilized 
country,  was  ever  so  completely  enchainod 
and  fettered  as  at  this  period  it  was  in 
France.  The  public  journals  were  prohib- 
ited from  inserting  any  article  of  public 
news  which  had  not  first  appeared  in  the 
Moniteur,  the  organ  of  government ;  and 
this,  on  all  momentous  occasions,  was  per- 
sonally examined  by  Buonaparte  himself. 
Nor  were  the  inferior  papers  permitted  to 
publish  a  word,  whether  in  the  way  ofrs- 
planation,  criticism,  or  otherwise,  which  did 
not  accurately  correspond  with  the  tone- 
observed  in  the  leading  journal.  They 
might,  with  the  best  graces  of  their  elo- 
quence, enhance  the  praise,  or  deepen  the 
censure,  which  characterized  the  leading 
paragraph;  but  seizure  of  their  paper,  cen- 
fiscation,  imprisonment,  and  sometimes  ex- 
ile, were  the  unfailing  reward  of  5ny  attempt 
to  correct  what  was  erroneous  in  point  of 
fact,  or  sophistical  in  point  of  reasoninsi. 
The  Moniteur,  therefore,  was  the  sole  guide 
of  public  opinion  ;  and  by  his  constant  at- 
tention to  its  contents,  it  is  plain  that  Na- 
poleon relied  as  much  on  its  influence  to  di- 
rect the  general  mind  of  the  people  of 
France,  as  he  did  upon  the  power  of  his 
arms,  military  reputation,  and  extensive  re- 
sources, to  overawe  the  other  nations  of  F.ik- 
rope. 


CHAP.   I.VII. 

Sf/tttm  of  Education  introduced  into  France,  by  Napoleon. — National   University — ilt 
nature  and  objects. — Lyceums. — Proposed  Establishment  at  Meudon. 


Thb  reputation  of  Buonaparte  as  a  soldier, 
wna  the  means  which  raised  him  to  the 
ImpeKal  dignity ;  and,  unfortunately  for 
bimself,  his  ideas  were  so  constantly  asso- 
ciated with  war  and  victory,  that  peaceful 
regulations  of  every  kind  were  postponed, 
u  of  inferior  importance ;  and  thus  war, 


which  in  the  eye  of  reason  ought  always, 
even  when  most  necessary  and  justifiable, 
to  be  regarded  as  an  extraordinary  state  in- 
to v^hich  a  nation  is  plunged  by  compulsion, 
was  certainly  regarded  by  Napoleon  as  al- 
most the  natural  and  ordinary  condition  of 
humanity.     He  had  been  bred  on  the  b-\t- 


484 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  L  VJJ. 


tie-field,  from  which  his  glory  first  arose. 
•'■  The  earthquake  voice  of  victory,"  accord- 
ing to  the  expression  of  Britain's  noble  and 
lost  bard,  '•  was  to  him  the  breath  of  life." 
And  although  his  powerful  mind  was  capa- 
ble cf  applying  itself  to  all  the  various  re- 
lations of  human  affairs,  it  was  with  war 
and  desolation  that  he  was  most  familiar, 
and  the  tendency  of  his  government  ac- 
cordingly bore  an  aspect  decidedly  mili- 
tary. 

The  instruction  of  the  youth  of  France 
had  been  the  subject  of  several  projects 
during  the  Republic  ;  which  was  the  more 
necessary,  as  the  Revolution  had  entirely 
destroyed  all  the  colleges  and  seminaries 
of  public  instruction,  most  of  which  were 
more  or  less  connected  with  the  church, 
and  had  left  the  nation  almost  destitute  of 
any  public  means  of  education.  These 
schemes  were  of  course  marked  with  the 
wild  sophistry  of  the  period.  In  many 
cases  they  failed  in  execution  from  want 
of  public  encouragement ;  in  others,  from 
want  of  funds.  Still,  however,  though  no 
fixed  scheme  of  education  had  been  adopt- 
ed, and  though  the  increasing  vice  and  ig- 
norance of  the  rising  generation  was  suffi- 
ciently shocking,  there  existed  in  France 
two  or  three  classes  of  schools  for  different 
purposes;  as  indeed  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  so  great  and  civilized  a  nation 
could,  under  any  circumstances,  tolerate  a 
total  want  of  the  means  of  educating  their 
youth. 

The  schemes  to  which  we  allude  had 
agreed  in  arranging,  that  each  commune 
(answering,  perhaps,  to  our  parish)  should 
provide  a  school  and  teacher,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  communicating  the  primary  and 
most  indispensable  principles  of  education. 
This  plan  had  in  a  great  measure  failed, 
•owing  to  the  poverty  of  the  communes  on 
whom  the  expense  was  thrown.  In  some 
cases,  however,  the  communes  had  found 
funds  for  this  necessary  purpose  ;  and,  in 
others,  the  expense  had  been  divided  be- 
twixt the  public  body,  and  the  pupils  who 
received  tlte  benefit  of  the  establishment. 
So  that  these  primary  schools  existed  in 
many  instances,  though  certainly  in  a  pre- 
carious and  languishing  state. 

The  secondary  schools  were  such  as 
qualified  persons,  or  those  who  held  them- 
selves out  as  such,  had  established  upon 
speculation,  or  by  the  aid  of  private  con- 
tributions,^ for  teachiag  the  learned  and 
modern  languages,  geography,  and  mathe- 
matics. 

There  was  besides  evinced  on  the  part 
of  the  Catholic  clergy,  so  soon  as  the  Con- 
cordat had  restored  them  to  some  rank  and 
influence,  a  desire  to  resume  the  task  of 
public  education,  which,  before  the  Revolu- 
tion, had  been  chieHy  vested  in  their  hands. 
Their  seminaries  had  been  supported  by 
the  public  with  considerable  liberality,  and 
being  under  the  control  of  the  bishop,  and 
destined  chiefly  to  bring  up  young  persons 
intended  for  the  church,  they  had  obtained 
ine  name  of  Ecclesiastical  Schools. 

Matters  were  upon  this  footing  when 
Buonaparte  brought  forward  his  grand  pro- 


I  ject  of  a  National  University,  composed  ol 
I  a  Grand  Master,  a  Chancellor,  a  treasurer, 
ten  counsellors  for  life,  twenty  counsellors 
in  ordinary,  and  thirty  inspectors-general ; 
I  the  whole  forming  a  sort  of  Imperial  coun- 
j  cil,  whose  supremacy  was  to  be  absolute 
I  on  matters  respecting  education.  All 
teachers,  and  all  seminaries  of  education 
were  subjected  to  the  supreme  authority 
of  the  National  University,  nor  could  any 
school  be  opened  without  a  brevet  or  di- 
ploma from  the  Grand  Master,  upon  which 
a  considerable  tax  was  imposed.  It  was  in- 
deed the  policy  of  the  government  to  di- 
minish as  far  as  possible  the  number  of  Sec- 
ondary and  of  Ecclesiastical  Schools,  in 
prder  that  the  public  education  might  be 
conducted  at  the  public  seminaries,  called 
Lyceums,  or  Academies. 

In  these  Lyceums  the  disciplme  was 
partly  military,  partly  monastic.  The  mas- 
ters, censors,  and  teachers,  in  the  Lyce- 
ums and  Colleges,  were  bound  to  celibacy; 
the  professors  might  marry,  but  in  that  case 
were  not  permitted  to  reside  within  the 
precincts.  The  youth  were  entirely  separat- 
ed from  their  families,  and  allowed  to  cor- 
respond with  no  one  save  their  parents,  and 
then  only  through  the  medium,  and  under 
the  inspection,  of  the  censors.  The  whole 
system  was  subjected  to  the  strict  and  > 
frequent  investigation  of  the  University,  j 
The  Grand  Master  might  dismiss  any  per-  f 
son  he  pleased,  and  such  a  sentence  of  dis- 
mission disqualified  tjie  party  receiving  it 
from  holding  any  civil  employment. 

In  the  general  case,  it  is  the  object  of  a 
place  of  learning  to  remove  from  the  eyes 
of  youth  that  pomp  and  parade  of  war,  by 
which  at  an  early  age  they  are  so  easily 
withdrawn  from  severe  attention  to  their 
studios.  The  Lyceums  of  Buonaparte 
were  conducted  on  a  contrary  principle  ; 
everything  was  done  by  beat  of  drum,  all 
the  interior  arrangements  of  the  boys  were 
upon  a  military  footing.  At  a  period  when 
the  soldier's  profession  held  out  the  most 
splendid  prospects  of  successful  ambition, 
it  was  no  wonder  that  young  men  soon 
learned  to  look  forward  to  it  as  the  only 
line  worthy  of  a  man  of  spirit  to  pursue. 
Tlie  devotion  of  the  young  students  to  the 
Emperor,  carefully  infused  into  them  by 
their  teachers,  was  farther  excited  by  the 
recollection,  that  he  was  their  benefactor 
for  all  the  means  of  instruction  afforded 
them  ;  and  tlius  they  learned  from  every 
circumstance  around  them,  that  the  first 
•object  of  their  lives  was  devotion  to  his 
service,  and  that  the  service  required  of 
them  was  of  a  military  character. 

There  were  in  each  Lyceum  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  exhibitions,  or  scholarships, 
of  which  twenty  were  of  value  suflicient  to 
cover  the  student's  full  expenses,  while, 
tlie  rest,  of  smaller  amount,  were  calledj 
half  or  three  quarter  bursaries,  in  which  Ihej 
pireiits  or  relations  of  the  lad  supplied  al 
portion  of  the  charge.  From  these  Lyce- 
ums, two  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  most  se- 
lected youth  were  yearly  draughted  ioto 
the  more  professional  and  special  military 
schools  maintained  by  the   Emperor ;  and 


C.iap.  L  Vni.^ 


LIFE  OF  XAPOLEOxN"  BUO^.\PARTE. 


485 


to  be  included  in  this  chosen  number,  was 
th«  prime  object  of  every  student.  Thus, 
everything  induced  the  young  men  brought 
up  at  these  Lyceums,  to  look  upon  a  mil- 
iary life  as  the  most  natural  and  enviable 
course  they  had  to  pursue  ;  and  thus  Buo- 
naparte accomplished  that  alteration  on  the 
existing  generation,  which  he  intimated, 
when  he  said,  "  The  clergy  regard  this 
world  as  a  mere  diligence  which  is  to  con- 
vey us  to  the  next — it  must  be  my  business 
to  fill  the  public  carriage  with  good  recruits 
for  my  army." 

Of  the  whole  range  of  national  education, 
that  which  was  conducted  at  the  Lyceums, 
or  central  schools,  was  alone  supported  by 
the  state;  and  the  courses  there  taught 
were  generally  limited  to  Latin  and  mathe- 
matics, the  usual  accomplishments  of  a 
military  academy.  Undoubtedly  Brienne 
was  in  Napoleon's  recollection  ;  nor  might 
he  perhaps  think  a  better,  or  a  more  enlarg- 
ed course  of  education  necessary  for  the 
subjects  of  France,  than  that  whicn  had 
advanced  their  sovereign  to  the  supreme 
government.  But  there  was  a  deeper  rea- 
son in  the  limitation.  Those  who,  under 
another  system  of  education,  might  have 
advanced  themselves  to  that  degree  of 
knowledge  which  becomes  influential  upon 
the  mind  of  the  public,  or  the  fortunes  of  a 
state,  by  other  means  than  those  of  violence, 
v?ere  disqualified  for  the  task  by  that  which 
they  received  in  the  Lyceums ;  and  the 
gentle,  studious,  and  peaceful  youth,  was 
formed,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  generation, 
to  the  trade  of  war,  to  which  he  was  proba- 
bly soon  to  be  called  by  the  Conscription. 
If  the  father  chose  to  place  his  son  at  one 
of  the  Secondary  Schools,  where  a  larger 
sphere  of  instruction  was  opened,  it  was 
BtiU  at  the  risk  of  seeing  the  youth  with- 
dravm  from  thence  and  transfeired  to  the 
nearest  Lyceum,  if  the  Directors  of  the 


Academy  should  judge  it  necesscU-y  for 
the"  encouragement  of  the  schools  which 
appertained  more  properly  to  govern- 
ment. 

Yet,  Napoleon  appears  to  have  been  blind 
to  the  errors  of  this  system,  or  rather  to 
have  been  delighted  with  them,  as  tending 
directly  to  aid  his  despotic  views.  "  My 
University,"  he  was  accustomed  to  say  to 
the  very  last,  "  was  a  master-piece  of  com- 
bination, and  would  have  produced  the  most 
material  effect  on  the  public  mind.""  Ana 
he  was  wont  on  such  occasions  to  throw  the 
blame  of  its  failure  on  Monsieur  Fontanes, 
the  Grand  Master,  who,  he  said,  afterwards 
took  merit  with  the  Bourbons  for  having  en- 
cumbered its  operation  in  some  of  its  most 
material  particulars. 

Buonaparte,  it  must  be  added,  at  a  later 
period,  resolved  to  complete  his  system  of 
national  education,  by  a  species  of  Corinthi- 
an capital.  He  proposed  the  establishment 
of  an  institution  at  Meudon,  for  the  educa- 
tion of  his  son,  the  King  of  Rome,  where  he 
was  to  be  trained  to  the  arts  becoming  a  ru- 
ler, in  the  society  of  other  young  princes 
of  the  Imperial  family,  or  the  descendants 
of  the  allies  of  Napoleon.  This  would  have 
been  reversing  the  plan  of  tuition  imposed 
on  Cyrus, -ind  on  Henry  IV'.,  who  were  bred 
up  among  the  common  children  oft.'ie  peas- 
ants, that  their  future  grandeur  might  not 
too  much  or  too  early  obscure  the  real  views 
of  human  nature  and  character.  But  it  is 
unnecessaryto  speculate  on  a  system  which 
never  was  doomed  to  be  brought  to  experi- 
ment :  only,  we  may  presume  it  was  intend- 
ed to  teach  the  young  Napoleon  more  re- 
spect to  the  right  of  property  which  his 
princely  companions  held  in  their  toys  and 
playthings,  than  his  father  evinced  towards 
the  crowns  and  sceptres  of  his  brothers  and 
allies. 


CHAP.  LVIZI. 

MUitary  Details. — Plan  of  the  Conseription — Its  Nature— and  Effects— Enforced  loith 
tttuparing  rigour. — Its  Influence  upon  the  general  Character  of  the  French  Soldiery. 
— A'ieio  mode  of  conducting  Hostilities  introduced  by  the  Revolution. — Constitution 
of  the  French  Armies. — Forced  Marches. — La  Maraude — Its  N'atttre — and  Effects — on 
Oie  Enemy's  Country,  and  on  the  French  Soldiers  themselves. — Policy  of  Napoleon, 
in  his  personal  conduct  to  his  Officers  and  Soldiers. — Altered  Character  of  the  French 
Soldiery  during,  and  after,  the  Revolution— Explained. 


"We  have  shown  that  the  course  of  educa- 
tion practised  in  France  was  so  directed,  as 
to  turn  the  thoughts  and  hopes  of  the  youth 
to  a  military  life,  and  prepare  them  to  obey 
the  call  of  the  conscription.  This  means  of 
recruiting  the  military  force,  the  most  for- 
midable ever  established  in  a  civilized  na- 
tion, was  originally  presented  to  the  Coun- 
cil of  Five  Hundred  in  1793.  It  compre- 
hended a  series  of  lists,  containing  the 
names  of  the  whole  youth  of  the  kingdom, 
from  the  age  of  twenty  to  twenty-five,  and 
empowering  government  to  call  them  out 
•occessively,  in  such  numbers  as  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  state  should  require.     The 


classes  w  ere  five  in  number.  The  first  con- 
tained those  who  were  aged  twenty  years 
complete,  before  the  commencement  of  the 
year  relative  to  which  the  conscription  was 
demanded,  and  the  same  rule  applied  to  the 
other  four  classes  of  men,  who  had  attained 
the  twenty-first,  twenty-second,  twenty- 
third,  twenty-fourth,  and  twenty-fifth  years 
successively,  before  the  same  period.  In 
practice,  however,  the  second  class  of  con- 
scripts were  not  called  out  until  the  first 
were  actually  in  service,  nor  was  it  usual  to 
demand  more  than  the  first  class  in  any  one 
year.  But  as  the  first  class  amounted  tofiO 
or  80,000,  so  forcible  and  general  a  levy  prf- 


486 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  L  Vm. 


Bented  immense  facilities  to  the  govern- 
ment, and  was  proportionally  burdensom'e 
to  the  people. 

This  law,  undoubtedly,  has  its  gei  eral 
Drinciple  in  the  duty  which  every  one  owes 
to  his  country.  Nothing  can  be  more  true, 
than  that  all  men  capable  of  bearing  arms 
are  liable  to  be  employed  in  the  defence  of 
the  state  ;  and  nothing  can  be  more  politic, 
than  that  the  obligation  which  is  incumbent 
upon  all,  should  be,  in  the  first  instance, 
imposed  upon  the  youth,  who  are  best  quali- 
fied for  military  service  by  the  freshness  of 
their  age,  and  whose  absence  from  the  ordi- 
nary business  of  the  country  will  occasion 
the  least  inconvenience.  But  it  is  obvious, 
that  such  a  measure  can  only  be  vindicated 
in  defensive  war,  and  that  the  conduct  of 
Buonaparte,  who  applied  the  system  to  the 
conduct  of  distant  offensive  wars,  no  other- 
wise necessary  than  for  the  satisfaction  of 
his  own  ambition,  stands  liable  to  the  hea- 
vy charge  of  having  drained  the  very  life- 
blood  of  the  people  intrusted  to  his  charge, 
not  for  the  defence  of  their  own  country, 
but  to  extend  the  ravages  of  war  to  distant 
and  unoffending  regions. 

The  French  conscription  was  yet  more 
severely  felt  by  the  extreme  rigour  of  its 
conditions.  No  distinction  was  made  be- 
twixt the  married  man,  whose  absence 
might  be  the  ruin  of  his  family,  and  the  sin- 
gle member  of  a  numerous  lineage,  who 
could  be  easily  spared.  The  son  of  the 
widow,  the  child  of  the  decrepid  and  help- 
less, had  no  right  to  claim  an  exemption. 
TJiree  sons  might  be  carried  off  in  three 
successive  years  from  the  same  desolated 
parents  ;  there  was  no  allowance  made  for 
having  already  supplied  a  recruit.  Those 
unable  to  serve  were  mulcted  in  a  charge 
proportioned  to  the  quota  of  taxes  which 
they  or  their  parents  contributed  to  the 
state,  and  which  might  vary  from  fif'y  to 
twelve  hundred  francs.  Substitutes  might 
indeed  be  offered,  but  then  it  was  both  dif- 
ficult and  expensive  to  procure  them,  as  the 
law  required  that  such  substitutes  should 
not  only  have  the  usual  personal  qualifica- 
tions for  a  military  life,  but  should  be  do- 
mesticated within  the  same  district  as  their 
principal,  or  come  within  the  conscription 
of  the  year.  Suitable  persons  were  sure  to 
know  their  own  value,  and  had  learned  so 
well  to  profit  by  it,  that  they  were  not  to  be 
bribed  to  serve  without  excessive  bounties. 
The  substitutes  also  had  the  practice  of  de- 
serting upon  the  road,  and  thu«  cheated  the 
principal,  who  remained  answerable  for 
them  till  they  joined  their  colours.  On  the 
whole,  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  exemption 
by  substitution  was  so  great,  that  very  many 
young  men,  well  educated,  and  of  respecta- 
ble families,  were  torn  from  all  their  more 
propitious  prospects,  to  bear  the  life,  dis- 
charge the  duties,  and  die  the  death,  of 
common  soldiers  in  a  marching  regiment. 

There  was  no  part  of  Napoleon's  govern- 
ment enforced  with  such  extreme  rigour  as 
the  levy  of  the  conscriptions.  The  mayor, 
upon  whom  the  duty  devolved  of  seeing  the 
number  called  for  selected  by  lot  from  the 
class  to  whom  they  belonged,  was  compel- 


led, under  the  most  severe  penalties,  to  a- 
void  showing  the  slightest  indulgence, — the 
brand,  the  pillory,  or  the  galleys  awaited  the 
magistrate  himself,  if  he  was  found  to  have 
favoured  any  individuals  on  whom  the  law 
of  conscription  had  claims.  The  same  law» 
held  out  the  utmost  extent  of  their  terrora 
against  refractory  conscripts,  and  the  public 
functionaries  were  everywhere  in  search  of 
them.  When  arrested,  they  were  treated 
like  convicts  of  the  most  infamous  descrip* 
tion.  Clothed  in  a  dress  of  infamy,  loaded 
with  chains,  and  dragging  weights  which 
were  attached  to  them,  they  were'condenju* 
ed  like  galley  slaves  to  work  upon  the  pub- 
lic fortifications.  Their  relations  did  not 
escape,  but  were  often  rendered  liable  for 
fines  and  penalties. 

But  perhaps  the  most  horrible  part  of 
the  f^ate  of  the  conscript,  was,  that  it  was  de* 
termined  for  life.  Two  or  three,  even  four 
or  five  years  spent  in  military  service,  might 
have  formed  a  n.ore  endurable,  though  cer. 
tainly  a  severe  tax  upon  human  life,  with 
its  natural  prospects  and  purposes.  But  the 
conscription  effectually  and  for  ever  chang- 
ed the  character  of  its  victims.  The  yeuth, 
when  he  left  his  father's  hearth,  was  aware 
that  he  was  bidding  it  adieu,  in  all  mortal 
apprehension,  for  ever  ;  and  the  parents 
who  had  parted  with  him,  young,  virtuous, 
and  ingenuous,  and  with  a  tendency,  per- 
haps, to  acquire  the  advantages  of  educa- 
tion, could  only  expect  to  see  him  again 
(should  so  unlikely  an  event  ever  take  place) 
with  the  habits,  thoughts,  manners,  and 
morals,  of  a  private  soldier. 

But  whatever  distress  was  inflicted  on  the 
country  by  this  mode  of  compulsory  levy, 
it  was  a  weapon  particularly  qualified  to 
serve  Buonaparte's  purposes.  He  succeed 
ed  to  the  power  which  it  gave  the  govern- 
ment, amongst  other  spoils  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  he  used  it  to  the  greatest  possible 
extent. 

The  conscription,  of  course,  comprehend- 
ed recruits  of  every  kind,  good,  bad,  and  in- 
different ;  but  chosen  as  they  were  from  the 
mass  of  the  people,  without  distinction, 
they  wero,  upon  the  whole,  much  superior 
to  that  description  of  persons  among  whom 
volunteers  for  the  army  are  usually  levied 
in  other  countries,  which  comprehends 
chiefly  the  desperate,  the  reckless,  the  prof- 
ligate, and  those  whose  unsettled  or  viciooa 
habits  render  them  unfit  for  peaceful  lire. 
The  number  of  young  men  of  some  educa- 
tion who  were  compelled  to  serve  in  the 
ranks,  gave  a  tone  and  feeling  to  the  French 
army  of  a  very  superior  character,  and  ex- 
plains why  a  good  deal  of  intellect  and  pow- 
er of  observation  was  often  found  amonOBt 
the  private  sentinels.  The  habits  of  Uie 
nation  also  being  strongly  turned  towards 
war,  the  French  formed,  upon  the  whole, 
the  most  orderly,  most  obedient,  most  easi- 
ly commanded,  and  best  regulated  troops, 
that  ever  took  the  field  in  any  age  or  coun- 
try. In  the  long  and  protracted  struggle  of 
battle,  their  fiery  courage  might  sometimes 
be  exhausted  before  that  of  the  determined 
British  ;  but  in  all  that  respects  the  science, 
practice,  and  usages  of  war,  the  French  are 


Ckap.LVIlI.]  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


487 


gonerally  allowed  to  have  excelled  their 
more  stubborn,  but  less  ingenious  rivals. 
They  excelled  especidly  in  the  art  of  shift- 
ing for  themselves ;  and  it  was  one  in  which 
the  wars  of  Napoleon  required  them  to  be 
peculiarly  adroit. 

The  French  Revolution  first  introduced 
into  Europe  a  mode  of  conducting  hostili- 
ties, which  transferred  almost  the  whole 
biKden  of  the  war  to  the  country  which  had 
the  ill-fortune  to  be  the  seat  of  its  opera- 
tions, and  rendered  it  a  resource  rather  than 
a  drain  to  the  successful  belligerent.  This 
we  shall  presently  explain. 

At  the  commencement  of  a  canfipaign, 
nothing  could  be  so  complete  as  the  arrange- 
ment of  a  French  army.  It  was  formed  in- 
to large  bodies,  called  cor/'s  d'armees,  each 
commanded  by  a  king,  viceroy,  mareschal, 
or  general  officer  of  high  pretensions,  found- 
ed on  former  services.  Each  corps  d'armee 
formed  a  complete  army  within  itself,  and 
had  its  allotted  proportion  of  cavalry,  infan- 
try, artillery,  and  troops  of  every  descrip- 
tion. The  corps  d'armee  consisted  of  from 
six  to  ten  divisions,  each  commanded  by  a 
general  of  division.  The  divisions,  again, 
were  subdivided  into  brigades,  of  which 
each,  comprehending  two  or  three  regi- 
ments, (consisting  of  two  or  more  battal- 
ions,) was  commanded  by  a  general  of  brig- 
ade. A  corps  d'armee  might  vary  in  num- 
ber from  fifty  to  eighty  thousand  men,  and 
ipwards  ;  and  the  general  of  such  a  body 
izercised  the  full  military  authority  over  it, 
without  the  control  of  any  one  excepting 
the  Emperor  himself.  There  were  very 
few  instances  of  the  Emperor's  putting  the 
officers  who  were  capable  of  this  high 
charge  under  command  of  each  other  ;  in- 
deed so  very  few,  as  might  almost  imply 
■ome  doubt  on  his  part,  of  his  commands  to 
this  effect  being  obeyed,  had  they  been  is- 
sued. This  system  of  dividing  his  collect- 
ed forces  into  separate  and  nearly  indepen- 
dent armies,  the  generals  of  which  were 
each  intrusted  with  and  responsible  for  his 
execution  of  some  separate  portion  of  an 
immense  combined  plan,  gave  great  celeri- 
ty and  efficacy  to  the  French  movements  j 
and,  superintended  as  it  was  by  the  master 
spirit  which  planned  the  campaign,  often 
contributed  to  the  most  brilliant  results. 
But  whenever  it  became  necessary  to  com- 
bine two  corps  d'armee  in  one  operation,  it 
required  the  personal  presence  of  Napoleon 
himself. 

Thus  organized,  the  French  army  v/as 
poured  into  some  foreign  country  by  forced 
marches,  without  any  previous  arrangement 
of  stores  or  magazines  for  their  mainte- 
nance, and  with  the  purpose  of  maintaining 
them  solely  at  the  expense  of  the  inhabi- 
tants. Buonaparte  was  exercised  in  this 
system  ;  and  the  combination  of  great  mass- 
es, by  means  of  such  forced  marches,  was 
one  great  principle  of  his  tactics.  This 
•pecies  of  war  was  carried  on  at  the  least 
possible  expense  of  money  to  his  treasury  ; 
DQt  it  was  necessarily  at  the  greatest  possi- 
ble expenditure  of  human  life,  and  the  in- 
calculable increase  of  human  misery.  Na- 
poleon's usual  object  waa  to  surprise  the 


enemy  by  the  rapidity  of  his  marches,  de- 
feat him  in  some  great  battle,  and  then 
seize  upon  his  capital,  levy  contributions, 
make  a  peace  with  such  advant.iges  as  he 
could  obtain,  and  finally  return  to  Paris. 

In  these  dazzling  campaigns,  the  army 
usually  began  their  march  with  provisions, 
that  is,  bread  or  biscuit,  for  a  certain  num- 
ber of  days,  on  the  soldiers'  backs.  Cattle 
also  were  for  a  time  driven  along  with  them, 
and  slaughtered  as  wanted.  These  articles 
were  usually  provided  from  some  large 
town  or  populous  district,  in  which  the 
troops  might  have  been  cantoned.  The 
horses  of  the  cavalry  were  likewise  loaded 
with  forage,  for  the  consumption  of  two  or 
three  days.  Thus  provided,  the  army  set 
forward  on  its  expedition  by  forced  march- 
es. In  a  very  short  time  the  soldiers  be- 
came impatient  of  their  burdens,  and  ei- 
ther wasted  them  by  prodigal  consumption, 
or  actually  threw  them  away.  It  was  then 
that  the  officers,  who  soon  entertained  just 
apprehensions  of  the  troops  suSering  scar- 
city before  another  regular  issue  of  provis- 
ions, gave  authority  to  secure  supplies  by 
what  was  called  la  maraude,  in  other  words, 
by  plunder.  To  ensure  that  these  forced 
supplies  should  be  collected  and  distribut- 
ed systematically,  a  certain  number  of  sol- 
diers from  each  company  were  despatched 
to  obtain  provisions  at  the  villages  and 
farra-liouses  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
march,  or  of  the  ground  upon  which  the 
army  was  encamped.  These  soldiers  were 
authorized  to  compel  the  inhabitants  to  de- 
liver their  provisions  without  receipt  or  pay- 
ment 5  and  such  being  their  regular  duty,  it 
may  be  well  supposed  that  they  did  not  con- 
fine themselves  to  provisions,  but  exacted 
money  and  articles  of  value,  and  committed 
many  other  similar  abuses. 

It  must  be  owasd,  that  the  intellectual 
character  of  the  French,  and  the  good-na- 
ture which  is  the  real  ground  of  their  nation- 
al character,  rendered  their  conduct  more 
endurable  under  the  evils  of  this  system  than 
could  have  been  expected,  provided  always 
that  provisions  were  plenty,  and  the  country 
populous.  A  sortof  order  was  then  observ- 
ed, even  in  the  disorder  of  the  maraude,  and 
pains  were  taken  to  divide  regularly  the 
provisions  thus  irregularly  obtained.  The 
general  temper  of  the  soldiery,  when  un- 
provoked by  resistance,  made  them  not 
wholly  barbarous  ;  and  their  original  good 
discipline,  the  education  which  many  had 
received,  with  the  habits  of  docility  which 
all  had  acquired,  prevented  them  from 
breaking  up  into  bands  of  absolute  banditti, 
and  destroying  themselves  by  their  own  ir- 
regularities. No  troops  except  the  French 
could  have  subsisted  in  the  same  manner  ; 
for  no  other  army  is  sufficiently  under  the 
command  of  its  officers. 

But  the  most  hideous  features  of  this  sys- 
tem were  shown  when  the  army  marched 
through  a  thinly-peopled  country,  or  when 
the  national  character,  and  perhaps  local 
facilities,  encouraged  the  natives  and  peas- 
ants to  offer  resistance.  Then  the  soldiers 
became  animated  alike  by  the  scarcity  of 
provisions,  and  irritated  at  the  danger  which 


488 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.LVW. 


they  sometimes  incurred  in  collecting  them. 
As  their  hardships  increased,  their  temper 
became  relentless  and  reckless,  and,  be- 
sides indulging  in  every  other  species  of  vi- 
olence, they  increased  their  own  distresses 
by  destroying  what  they  could  not  use. 
Famine  and  sickness  were  not  long  of  visit- 
ing an  army,  which  traversed  by  forced 
marches  a  country  exhausted  of  provisions. 
These  stern  attendants  followed  the  French 
columns  as  they  struggled  on.  Without 
hospitals,  and  without  magazines,  every 
straggler  who  could  not  regain  his  ranks  fell 
a  victim  to  hunger,  to  weather,  to  \veari- 
ness,  to  the  vengeance  of  an  incensed  peas- 
antry. In  this  manner,  the  French  army 
suffered  woes,  which,  till  these  tremendous 
wars,  had  never  been  the  lot  of  troops  in 
hostilities  carried  on  between  civilized  na- 
tions. Still  Buonaparte's  object  was  gain- 
ed ;  he  attained,  amid  these  losses  and  sac- 
rifices, and  at  the  expense  of  them,  the 
point  which  he  had  desired  ;  displayed  his 
masses  to  the  terrified  eyes  of  a  surprised 
enemy  ;  reaped  the  reward  of  his  despatch 
i'l  a  general  victory,  and  furnished  new  sub- 
jects of  triumph  to  the  Moniteur.  So  much 
lid  he  rely  upon  the  celerity  of  movement, 
ihat  if  an  officer  asked  time  to  execute  any 
'f  his  commands,  it  was  frequently  his  re- 
jnarkable  answer, — "Ask  me  for  anything  ex- 
cept liins."  That-  celerity  depended  on  the 
uncompromising  system  of  forced  march- 
es, without  established  magazines,  and  we 
have  described  how  wasteful  it  must  have 
been  to  human  life.  But  when  the  battle 
was  over,  the  dead  were  at  rest,  and  could 
not  complain  ;  the  living  were  victors,  and 
soon  forgot  their  sufferings  ;  and  the  loss  of 
the  recruits  who  had  been  wasted  in  the 
campaign,  was  supplied  by  another  draught 
upon  the  youth  of  France,  in  the  usual 
forms  of  the  conscription. 

Buonaparte  observed,  with  respect  to  his 
army,  an  adroit  species  of  policy.  His 
mareschals,  his  generals,  his  officers  of 
high  rank,  were  liberally  honoured  and  re- 
warded by  him  ;  but  he  never  treated  them 
with  personal  familiarity.  The  forms  of 
etiquette  were,  upon  all  occasions,  strictly 
maintained.  Perhaps  he  was  of  opinion 
that  the  original  equality  in  which  they  had 
stood  with  regard  to  each  other,  would  have 
been  too  strongly  recalled  by  a  more  famil- 
iar mode  of  intercourse.  But  to  the  com- 
mon soldier,  who  could  not  misconstrue  or 
intrude  upon  his  familiarity,  Buonaparte 
observed  a  different  line  of  conduct.  He 
permitted  himself  to  be  addressed  by  them 
on  all  suitable  occasions,  and  paid  strict  at- 
tention to  their  petitions,  complaints,  and 
even  their  remonstrances.  What  they  com- 
plained of,  was,  in  all  instances,  inquired 
into  and  reformed,  if  the  complaints  were 
just.  After  a  battle,  he  was  accustomed  to 
consult  the  regiments  which  had  distin- 
guished themselves,  concerning  the  merits 
of  those  who  had  deserved  the  Legion  of 
Honour,  or  other  military  distinction.  In 
these  moments  of  conscious  importance, 
the  sufferings  of  the  whole  campaign  were 
forgotten  ;  and  Napoleon  seemed,  to  the 
-oldiery  who   srrrounded  him,  not  as  the 


ambitious  man  who  had  dragged  them  from 
their  homes,  to  waste  their  valour  in  for- 
eign fields,  and  had  purchased  victory  at 
the  expense  of  subjecting  them  to  every 
privation,  but  as  the  father  of  the  war.  to 
whom  his  soldiers  were  as  children,  ana  to 
whom  the  honour  of  the  meanest  private 
was  as  dear  as  his  own. 

Every  attention  was  paid,  to  do  justice  to 
the  claims  of  the  soldier,  and  provide  for  his 
preferment  as  it  was  merited.  But  with  all 
this  encouragement,  it  was  the  remark  of 
Buonaparte  himself,  that  the  army  no  longer 
produced,  under  the  Empire,  such  distin- 
guished soldiers  as  Pichegru,  Kleber,  Mo- 
reau,  Massena,  Dessaix,  Hoche,  and  he  him- 
self above  all,  who,  starting  from  the  ranks 
of  obscurity,  like  runners  to  a  race,  had  as- 
tonished the  world  by  their  progress.  These 
men  of  the  highest  genius,  had  been  produc- 
ed, as  Buonaparte  thought,  in  and  by  the  fer- 
vour of  the  Revolution ;  and  he  appears  to 
have  been  of  opinion,  that,  since  things  had 
returned  more  and  more  into  the  ordinary 
and  restricted  bounds  of  civil  society,  men 
of  the  same  high  class  were  no  longer  cre- 
ated. There  is,  however,  some  fallacy  in 
this  statement.  Times  of  revolution  do 
not  create  great  men,  but  revolutions  usual- 
ly take  place  in  periods  of  society  when 
great  principles  have  been  under  discussion, 
and  the  views  of  the  young  and  of  the  old 
hsve  been  turned,  by  the  complexion  of  the 
times,  towards  matters  of  grand  and  serious 
consideration,  which  elevate  the  character 
and  raise  the  ambition.  When  the  collision 
of  mutual  violence,  the  explosion  of  the 
revolution  itself  actually  breaks  out,  it 
neither  does  nor  can  create  talent  of  any 
kind.  But  it  brings  forth,  (and  in  generu 
destroys,)  in  the  course  of  its  progress,  all 
the  talent  which  the  predisposition  to  dis- 
cussion of  public  affairs  had  already  encour- 
aged and  fostered ;  and  when  that  talent  has 
perished,  it  cannot  be  replaced  from  a 
race  educated  amidst  the  furies  of  civil  war. 
The  abilities  of  the  Long  Parliament  ceas- 
ed to  be  seen  under  the  Commonwealth, 
and  the  same  is  true  of  the  French  Con- 
vention, and  the  Empire  which  succeeded 
it.  Revolution  is  like  a  conflagration,  which 
throws  temporary  light  upon  the  ornaments 
and  architecture  of  the  house  to  which  it  at- 
taches, but  always  ends  by  destroying  them. 

It  is  said  also,  probably  with  less  authori- 
ty, that  Napoleon,  even  when  surrounded  by 
those  Imperial  Guards,  whose  discipline 
had  been  so  sedulously  carried  to  the  nigh- 
est  pitch,  sometimes  regretted  the  want  of 
the  old  Revolutionary  soldiers,  whose  war- 
cry.  "  Vive  la  Republique  !"  identified  each 
individual  with  the  cause  which  he  main- 
tained. Napoleon,  however,  had  no  cause 
to  regret  any  circumstance  which  referred 
to  his  military  power.  It  was  already  far 
too  great,  and  had  destroyed  the  proper 
scale  of  government  in  France,  by  givms 
the  military  a  decided  superiortty  over  all 
men  of  civil  professions,  while  he  himself, 
with  the  habits  and  reasoning  of  a  despotic 
general,  had  assumed  an  almost  unlimited 
authority  over  the  fairest  part  of  Europe. 
Over  foreign  countries,  the  military  renown 


Chap.  LIX] 


LIFE  OF  INAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


489 


of  France  streamed  like  a  comet,  inspiring    departed  from  the  earth  for  ever,  and  that 


anivenal  dread  and  distrust ;  and,  \vhilEt  it 
rendered  indispensable  similar  preparations 
for  resistance,  it  seemed   as  if  peace  had 


its  destinies  were  hereafLer  to  be  disposed 
of  according  to  the  laws  of  brutal  force 
alone. 


CHAP.   Z.IX. 

Effects  of  the  Peace  of  Tilsit. — Napoleon's  views  of  a  State  of  Peace — Contratted  with 
those  of  England. —  The  Continental  System — Its  JVature — and  Effects. — Berlin  and 
Milan  Decrees. — British  Orders  in  Council. — Spain — Retrospect  of  the  Relations  of 
that  Country  \oith  France  since  the  Revolution. —  Godoy — His  Influence — Character 
— and  Political  Views. — Ferdinand,  Prince  of  Asturias,  applies  to  Napoleon  for  aid. 
— Affairs  of  Portugal. —  Treaty  of  Fontainbleau. — Departure  of  the  Prince  Regent 
for  Brazil. — Entrance  ofJunot  into  Lisbon — his  unbounded  Rapacity. — Disturbances 
at  Madrid. — Ferdinand  detected  in  a  Plot  against  his  Father,  and  imprisoned. — 
King  Charles  applies  to  Napoleon. —  lllly  Policy  of  Buonaparte — Orders  the  French 
Army  to  enter  Spain. 


The  peace  of  Tilsit  had  been  of  that  char- 
acter, which,  while  it  settled  the  points  of 
dispute  between  two  rival  monarchies,  who 
had  found  themselves  hardly  matched  in 
the  conflict  to  which  it  put  a  period,  left 
both  at  liberty  to  use  towards  the  nations 
more  immediately  under  the  influence  of 
either,  such  a  degree  of  discretion  as  their 
newer  enabled  them  to  exercise.  Such  was 
Napoleon's  idea  of  pacification,  which 
amounted  to  this  : — "  I  will  work  my  own 
pleasure  with  the  countries  over  which  my 
power  gives  me  not  indeed  the  right,  but  the 
authority  and  power;  and  you,  my  ally, 
shall,  in  recompense,  do  what  suits  you  in 
the  territories  of  other  states  adjoining  to 
you,  but  over  which  I  have  no  such  imme- 
diate influence." 

This  was  the  explanation  which  he  put 
upon  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  and  this  was 
the  species  of  peace  which  long  afterwards 
he  regretted  had  not  been  concluded  with 
England.  His  regrets  on  that  point  were 
expressed  at  a  very  late  period,  in  language 
which  is  perfectly  intelligible.  Speaking 
of  France  and  England,  he  said,  "  We  have 
done  each  other  infinite  harm — we  might 
have  rendered  each  other  infinite  service  by 
mutual  good  understanding.  If  the  school 
of  Foi  had  succeeded,  we  would  have  un- 
derstood each  other — there  would  only  have 
been  in  Europe  one  army  and  one  fleet — 
we  would  have  governed  the  world — we 
would  have  fixed  repose  and  prosperity 
everywhere,  either  by  force  or  by  persua- 
sion. Yes — I  repeat  how  much  good  we 
might  have  done — how  much  evil  we  have 
actually  done  to  each  otlier."' 

Now  the  fundamental  principle  of  such  a 
pacification,  which  Buonaparte  seems  to  the 
▼ery  last  to  have  considered  as  the  mutual 
basis  of  common  interest,  was  such  as  could 
not,  ought  not,  nay,  dare  not,  have  been 
adoDted  by  any  ministry  which  England 
could  have  chosen,  so  lon<r  as  she  possess- 
ed a  free  Parliament.  Her  principle  of 
pacification  must  have  been  one  that  ascer- 
tained the  independence  of  other  powers. 
not  which  permitted  her  own  agcrrossions, 
«nd  gave  way  to  those  of  France.  Her 
wealth,  strength,  and  happiness,  do.  and 
must  always,  consist  in  the  national  inde- 
-pendence  of  the  states  upon  the  continent. 
Vol.  I.  VV'2 


She  could  not,  either  with  conscience  5r 
safety,  make   peace  with  a  usurping  con- 
queror, on  the  footing  that  she  herself  wjis 
j  to  become  a  usurper  in  her  turn.     She  has 
■  no  desire  or  interest  to  blot   out  other  na- 
'  tions  from  the  map  of  Europe,  in  order  that 
,  no  names  may  remain  save  those  of  Britain 
I  and  France ;  nor  is  she  interested  in  de- 
'  priving  other  states   of  their   fleets,  or  of 
j  their  armies.     Her  statesmen  must  disclaim 
,  the  idea  of  governing  the  world,  or  a  moiety 
i  of  the  world,  and  of  making  other  nations 
'  either  happy  or  unhappy  by  force  of  arms. 
I  The    conduct  of  England  in   1814    and   in 
j  1815,  evinced  this  honest  and  honourable 
policy  ;  since,  yielding  much  to  others,  she 
could  not  be  accused  of  being  herself  influ- 
I  enced  by  any  views  to  extend  her  own  do- 
I  minion,  in  the  general  confusion  and  blend- 
ing which  arose  out  of  the  downfall  of  the 
external  power  of  France.    That,  however, 
is  a  subject  for  another  place. 

In   the   meanwhile,   France,   who,  with 
I  Russia,  had  arranged  a  treaty  of  pacification 
on  a  very  different  basis,  was  now  busied  m 
gathering  in  the  advantages  which  she  ex- 
pected  to  derive  from  it.     In  doing  so,  it 
t  seems  to  have  been  Buonaparte's  principal 
\  object  so  to  consolidate  and  enforce  what 
I  he  called  his  Continental  System,  as  ultit 
I  mately  to  root  out  and  destroy  the  remain- 
j  ing  precarious  communications,  which  Eng.. 
'  land,  by  her  external  commerce,  continued 
I  to  maintain  with  the  nations  of  the  conti- 
1  nent. 

To  attain  this  grand  object,  the  treaty  of 
I  Tilsit  and  its  consequences  had  given  him 
'  great  facilities.  France  was  his  own — Hol- 
land was  under  the  dominion,  nominally,  o< 
his  brother  Louis,  but  in  a  great  measure  at 
his  devotion.  His  brother  Jerome  was  cs, 
\  tablished  in  the  kingdom  of  Westphalia.  It 
followed,  therefore,  in  tho  course  of  bis 
brother's  policy,  that  he  was  to  form  an  al' 
liance  worthy  of  his  new  rank.  It  has  been 
already  noticed  that  he  had  abandoned,  by 
his  brother's  command,  Elizabeth  Patersoii, 
I  daughter  of  a  respectable  gentleman  of  Bal- 
1  timore,  whom  he  had  married  in  1803.  H<-- 
j  was  now  married  at  the  Tuilleries  to  Frf<!- 
j  erica  Catherine,  daughter  of  the  King  of 
I  Wirtemberg. 
I     Prussia,  and  all  the  once  free  ports  of  th<> 


490 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chaj>.  LIX. 


Hanseatic  League,  were  closed  against  Eng- 
lish commerce,  so  far  as  absolute  military 
power  could  effect  that  purpose.  Russia 
was  not  so  tractable  in  that  important  mat- 
ter as  the  terms  of  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  and 
Napoleon's  secret  engagements  with  the 
Czar,  had  led  him  to  hope.  But  Alexander 
was  too  powerful  to  be  absolutely  dictated 
to  in  the  enforcement  of  this  anti-commer- 
cial system  ;  and,  indeed,  the  peculiar  state 
of  the  Russian  nation  might  have  rendered 
it  perilous  to  the  Czar  to  enforce  the  non- 
intercourse  to  the  extent  which  Napoleon 
would  have  wished.  The  large,  bulky,  and 
heavy  commodities  of  Russia, — hemp  and 
iron,  and  timber  and  wax,  and  pitch  and  na- 
val stores — that  produce  upon  which  the 
Boyards  of  the  empire  chiefly  depended  for 
their  revenue,  would  not  bear  the  expense 
of  transportation  by  land  j  and  England,  in 
full  and  exclusive  command  of  the  sea,  was 
her  only,  and  at  the  same  time  her  willing 
customer.  Under  various  illusory  devices, 
therefore,  England  continued  to  purchase 
Russian  commodities,  and  pay  for  them  in 
her  own  manufactures?  in  spite  of  the  de- 
crees of  the  French  Emperor,  and  in  defi- 
ance of  the  ukases  of  the  Czar  himself  j  and 
to  this  Buonaparte  was  compelled  to  seem 
blind,  as  what  his  Russian  ally  could  not,  or 
would  not,  put  an  end  to. 

The  strangest  struggle  ever  witnessed  in 
the  civilized  world  began  now  to  be  main- 
tained, betwixt  Britain  and  those  countries 
who  felt  the  importation  of  British  goods  as 
a  subject  not  only  of  convenience,  but  of 
vital  importance,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
France  on  the  other ;  whose  ruler  was  de- 
termined that  on  no  account  should  Britain 
either  maintain  intercourse  with  the  conti- 
nent, or  derive  the  inherent  advantages  of  a 
free  trade.  The  decrees  of  Berlin  were 
reinforced  by  others  of  the  French  Empe- 
ror, yet  more  peremptory  and  more  vexa- 
tious. By  a  decree  dated  at  Hamburgh, 
Ilth  December,  and  another  promulgated  at 
Milan,  17th  December  1807,  Napoleon  de- 
clared Britain  in  a  state  of  blockade — all  na- 
tions whatever  were  prohibited  not  only  to 
trade  with  her,  but  to  deal  in  any  articles 
of  British  manufacture.  Agents  were  nam- 
od  in  every  sea-port  and  trading  town  on 
the  part  of  Buonaparte.  There  was  an  or- 
Jindnce  that  no  ship  should  be  admitted  in- 
to any  of  the  ports  of  the  continent  without 
certificates,  as  they  were  called,  of  origin  ; 
the  purpose  of  which  was  to  show  that  no 
part  of  their  cargo  was  of  British  produce. 
These  regulations  were  met  bv  others  on 
the  part  of  Britain,  called  the  Orders  in 
Council.    They    permitted  all  neutrals  to 


species  of  deception  by  which  the  real 
character  of  the  mercantile  transaction 
could  be  disguised.  False  papers,  false  en- 
tries, false  registers,  were  everywhere  pro- 
duced ;  and  such  were  the  profits  attending 
the  trade,  that  the  most  trusty  and  trusted 
agents  of  Buonaparte,  men  of  the  highest 
rank  in  his  empire,  were  found  willing  to 
wink  at  this  contraband  commerce,  and  ob- 
tained great  sums  for  doing  so.  All  along 
the  sea-coast  of  Europe,  this  struggle  was 
keenly  maintained  betwixt  the  most  power- 
ful individual  the  world  ever  saw,  and  the 
wants  and  wishes  of  the  society  which  he 
controlled — wants  and  wishes  not  the  less 
eagerly  entertained,  that  they  were  direct- 
ed towards  luxuries  and  superfluities. 

But  it  was  chiefly  the  Spanish  peninsula, 
iu  which  the  dominion  of  its  ancient  and 
natural  princes  still  nominally  survived, 
which  gave  an  extended  vent  to  the  objects 
of  British  commerce.  Buonaparte,  inaeed, 
had  a  large  share  of  its  profits,  since  Portu- 
gal, in  particular,  paid  him  great  sums  to 
connive  at  her  trade  with  England.  But  at 
last  the  weakness  of  Portugal,  and  the  total 
disunion  of  the  Royal  Family  in  Spain, 
suggested  to  Napoleon  the  thoughts  of  ap- 
propriating to  his  own  family,  or  rather  to 
himself,  that  noble  portion  of  the  conti 
nent  of  Europe.  Hence  arose  the  Spani^^h 
contest,  of  which  he  afterwards  said  in  bit- 
terness, "  That  wretched  war  was  my  ruin 
— It  divided  my  forces — multiplied  the  ne- 
cessity of  my  efforts,  and  injured  my  char- 
acter for  morality."  But  could  he  expect 
better  results  from  a  usurpation,  executed 
under  circumstances  of  treachery  perfectly 
unexampled  in  the  history  of  Europe  ?  Be- 
fore entering,  however,  upon  this  new  and 
most  important  aera  of  Napoleon's  history, 
it  is  necessary  hastily  to  resume  some 
account  of  the  previous  relations  between 
France  and  the  Peninsula  since  the  Revo- 
lution. 

Manuel  de  Godoy,  a  favourite  of  Charles 
IV.  and  the  paramour  of  his  profligate 
Queen,  was  at  the  time  the  uncontrolled 
minister  of  Spain.  He  bore  the  title  of 
Prince  of  the  Peace,  or  of  Peace,  as  it  was 
termed  for  brevity's  sake,  on  account  of  his 
having  completed  the  pacification  of  Basle, 
which  closed  the  revolutionary  war  be- 
twixt Spain  and  Fra.ice.  By  the  subse- 
quent treaty  of  Saint  Udephonso,  he  had 
established  an  alliance,  offensive  and  de- 
fensive, betwixt  the  two  countries,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  Spain  had  taken  from 
time  to  time,  without  hesitation,  every 
step  which  Buonaparte's  interested  policy 
recommended.     But   notwithstanding   this 


trade  with  countries  at  peace   with  Great  subservience  to  the  pleasure  of  the  French 

Britain,  providing  they  touched  at  a  British  ruler,  Godoy  seems  in  secret  to  have  nour- 

port,  and  paid  the  British  duties.    Neutrals  ished  hopes  of  getting  free  of  the  French 

were  thus  placed  in  a  most  undesirable  pre-  yoke ;  and   at  the   very   period   when   th 

dicament  betwixt  the  two  great  contending  Prussian   war  broke  out,  without  any  ne 

powers.     If  they  neglected  the  British  Or-  cessity  which  could  be  discovered,  he  sud- 

dere  in  Council,   they   were   captured  by  denly  called  the   .Spanish  forces   to  arms, 


the  cruizers  of  England,  with  which  the  sea 
VAB  covered.  If  they  paid  duties  at  British 
jiorti,  they  were  confiscated,  if  the  fact 
f.ould  be  discovered,  on  arrival  at  any  port 
•loder  Fwnch  influence.    This  led  to  every 


addressing  to   them   a  proclamation   of 
boastful,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  mysteri- 
ous character,  indicating  that  the  countrj 
was  in  danger,  and  that  some  great  exertion 
was  expected  from  the  Spanish  armies  ii^ 


Chap.  LIX.] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


491 


her  behalf.  Buonaparte  received  this  proc- 
lamation on  the  field  of  battle  at  Jena,  and 
is  said  to  have  sworn  vengeance  against 
Spain.  The  news  of  tha*.  great  victory  soon 
altered  Godoy's  military  attitude,  and  the 
minister  could  find  no  better  excuse  for  it, 
than  to  pretend  that  he  had  armed  against 
an  apprehended  invasion  of  the  Moors. 
Napoleon  permitted  the  circumstance  to 
remain  unexplained.  It  had  made  him 
aware  of  Godoy's  private  sentiments  in 
respect  to  himself  and  to  France,  if  he  had 
before  doubted  them ;  and  though  passed 
over  without  farther  notice,  this  hasty  ar- 
mament of  1806  was  assuredly  not  dismiss- 
ed from  his  thoughts. 

In  the  state  of  abasement  under  which 
vhey  felt  their  government  and  royal  fami- 
ly to  have  fallen,  the  hopes  and   affections 
of  the  Spaniards  were  naturally  turned  on 
the  heir-apparent,  whose  succession  to  the 
crown  they  looked  forward  to  as  a  signal  for 
better  things,  and  who  was  well  understood 
to  be  at  open  variance  with  the  all-power- 
ful   Godoy.     The   Prince  of  the  .\sturias, 
however,  does  not  seem  to  have  possessed 
any  portion  of  that  old  heroic  pride,  and 
love  of  independence,  which  ought  to  have 
marked  the  future  King  of  Spain.     He  was 
not  revolted  at  the  sway  which  Buonaparte 
held  in  Europe  and  in  Spain,  and  far  from 
desiring  to  get  rid  of  the  French  influence, 
he  endeavoured  to  secure  Buonaparte's  fa- 
vour for  his  own  partial   views,  by  an  ofier 
to  connect  his  own  interests  in  an  indisso- 
luble manner  with  those  of  Napoleon  and  [ 
his  dynasty,     .\ssistedby  some  of  tlie  gran- 
dees, who   were  most  especially  tired  of  , 
Godoy  and  his  administration,   the  Prince  | 
wrote  Buonaparte  a  secret  letter,  express-  i 
ing  the  highest  esteem  for  his  person  ;  in-  , 
timating  the  condition  to  which  his  father,  j 
whose   too   great   goodness   of  disposition  i 
had  been  misguided  by  wicked  counsellors,  ; 
had   reduced   the   flourishing  kingdom   of  | 
Spain  ;  requesting  the  counsels  and  support  i 
of  the    Emperor  Napoleon,  to  detect  the  ! 
schemes  of  those  perfidious  men  •,  and  en-  I 
treating,  that,  as  a  pledge   of  the  paternal  ■ 
protection  which  he  solicited,  the  Emperor  ■ 
would  grant  him  the  honour  of  allying  him  i 
with  one  of  his  relations. 

In  this  manner  the  heir-apparent  of 
Spain  threw  himself  into  the  arms,  or,  more 
properly,  at  the  feet  of  Napoleon  ;  but  he 
did  not  meet  the  reception  he  had  hoped 
for.  Buonaparte  was  at  this  time  engaged 
in  negotiations  with  Charles  W.,  and  with 
that  very  Godoy  whom  it  was  the  object  of 
the  Prince  to  remove  or  ruin  ;  and  as  they 
could  second  his  views  with  .ill  the  re- 
maining forces  of  Spain,  while  Prince  Fer- 
dinand was  in  possession  of  no  actual  pow- 
er or  authority,  the  former  were  for  the 
time  preferable'  allies.  The  Prince's  offer, 
as  what  might  be  useful  on  some  future  oc- 
casion, was  for  the  present  neither  accept- 
ed nor  refused.  Napoleon  was  altogether 
•ilent.  The  fate  of  the  Royal  Family  was 
thus  in  the  hands  of  the  Stranger.  Their 
fate  was  probably  already  determined.  But 
before  expelling  the  Bouroons  from  Spain, 


I  Napoleon  judged  it  most  politic   to   u^o 
their  forces  in  subduing  Portugal. 

The  flower  of  the  Spanish  army,  consiai- 
,  ing  of  sixteen  thousand  men,  under  tiie 
Marquis  de  la  Romana,  had  been  mareinjil 
into  the  north  of  Europe,  under  the  cliarac- 
I  ter  of  auxiliaries  of  I-  ranee.  .Vnother  de- 
tachment had  been  sent  to  Tuscany,  com- 
manded by  O'Farrel.  So  far  the  kingdom 
was  weakened  by  the  absence  of  her  own 
best  troops  ;  the  conquest  of  Portugal  was 
to  be  made  a  pretext  for  introducing  the 
French  army  to  dictate  to  the  whole  Pe- 
ninsula. 

Portugal  was  under  a  singularly  weak 
government.  Her  army  was  ruined ;  the 
soul  and  spirit  of  her  nobility  was  lost ; 
her  sole  hope  for  continuing  in  existence, 
under  the  name  of  an  independent  kingdom, 
rested  in  her  power  of  purchasing  the 
clemency  of  France,  and  eome  belief  that 
Spain  would  not  permit  her  own  territo- 
ries to  be  violated  for  the  sake  of  anni- 
hilating an  unofiending  neighbour  and  ally. 

Shortly  after  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  the 
Prince  Regent  of  Portugal  was  required, 
by  France  and  Spain  jointly,  to  shut  his 
ports  against  the  English,  to  confiscate  the 
property  of  Britain,  and  to  arrest  the  per- 
sons of  her  subjects  wherever  they  could 
be  found  within  his  dominions.  The 
Prince  reluctantly  acceded  to  the  first  part 
of  this  proposal ;  the  last  he  peremptorily 
refused,  as  calling  upon  him  at  once  to  vio- 
late the  faith  of  treaties  and  the  rights  of 
hospitality.  And  the  British  merchants  re- 
ceived intimation,  that  it  would  be  wisdom 
to  close  their  commercial  concerns,  ail9 
retire  from  a  country  which  had  no  longer 
the  means  of  protecting  them. 

In  the  meantime,  a  singular  treaty  was 
signed  at  Fontainbleau,  for  the  partition  of 
itip  ancient  kingdom  of  Portugal.  By  this 
agreement,  a  regular  plan  was  laid  for  in- 
vading Portugal  with  French  and  Spanish 
armies,  accomplishing  the  conquest  of  the 
country,  and  dividing  it  into  three  parte. 
The  northern  provinces  were  to  form  a 
small  principality  for  the  King  of  Etruria 
(who  was  to  cede  his  Italian  dominions  to 
Napoleon  ;)  another  portion'was  to  be  given 
in  sovereignty  to  Godoy,  with  the  title  of 
King  of  the  .\lgarves  ;  and  a  third  was  to 
remain  in  sequestration  till  the  end  of  the 
war.  By  the  treaty  of  Fontainbleau,  Na- 
poleon obtained  two  important  advantages  ; 
the  first,  that  Portugal  should  be  conquer- 
ed ;  the  second,  that  a  great  part  of  tho 
Spanish  troops  should  be  employed  on  the 
expedition,  and  their  native  country  thus 
deprived  of  their  assistance.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  believe  that  he  ever  intended  Godoy, 
or  the  King  of  Etruria,  should  gain  any- 
thing by  the  stipulations  in  their  behalf 

Ju°not,  one  of  the  most  grasping,  extrava- 
gant, and  profligate  of  the  French  generaU-, 
a  man  whom  Buonaparte  himself  has  sti|.'- 
matized  as  a  monster  of  rapacity,  was  »p 
pointed  to  march  upon  Lisbon,  and  intrubt- 
ed  with  the  charge  of  rpconciling  to  the  yoke 
of  the  invaders,  a  nation  v.ho  had  neither 
provoked  war,  nor  attempted  reaiaUnce 


492 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 


[Chap.  LIX. 


Two  additional  armies,  consisting  partly 
of  French  and  partly  of  Spaniards,  supported 
the    attack   of   Junot.       A   French    army, 
amounting  to   40,000  men,  was  formed  at 
Bayonne,  in  terms  of  the  treaty  of  Fontain-  i 
bleau,  destined,  it  was  pretended,  to  act  as  j 
an   army  of  reserve,  in  case    the  English  | 
should  land  troops  for  the  defence  of  Por-  ( 
tugal,  but  which,  it  had  been  stipulated,  was  I 
on  no  account  to  enter  Spain,  unless  such  a 
crisis   should  demand   their  presence.     It 
will   presently   appear  what  was  the  true 
purpose  of  this  army  of  reserve,  and  under 
what  circumstances  it  was  really  intended 
to  enter  the  Spanish  territory. 

Meantime  Junot  advanced  upon  Lisbon 
with  such  extraordinary  forced  marches,  as 
Yery  much  dislocated  and  exhausted  his  ar- 
my. But  this  was  of  the  less  consequence, 
because,  aware  that  he  could  not  make  an 
effectual  resistance,  the  Prince  Regent  had 
determined  that  he  would  not,  by  an  inef- 
fectual show  of  defence,  give  the  invaders 
a  pretext  to  treat  Portugal  like  a  conquered 
country.  He  resolved  at  this  late  hour  to 
comply  even  with  the  last  and  harshest  of 
the  terms  dictated  by  France  and  Spain,  by 
putting  the  restraint  of  a  register  on  British 
subjects  and  British  property  ;  but  he  had 
purposely  delayed  compliance,  till  little 
was  left  that  could  be  affected  by  the  meas- 
ure. The  British  Factory,  so  long  domicili- 
ated at  Lisbon,  had  left  the  Tagus  on  the 
18th  of  October,  amid  the  universal  regret 
of  the  inhabitants.  The  British  resident 
minister,  Lord  Strangford,  although  feeling 
compassion  for  the  force  under  which  the 
Prince  Regent  acted,  was,  nevertheless,  un- 
rter  the  necessity  of  considering  these  un- 
friendly steps  as  a  declaration  against  Eng- 
land. He  took  down  the  British  arms,  de- 
parted from  Lisbon  accordingly,  and  went 
on  board  Sir  Sidney  Smith's  squadron,  then 
lying  off  the  Tagus.  The  Marquis  of  Mal- 
rialva  was  then  sent  as  an  ambassador  extra- 
ordinary, to  state  to  the  courts  of  France 
and  Spain,  that  the  Prince  Regent  had  com- 
plied with  the  whole  of  their  demands,  and 
to  request  that  the  march  of  their  forces 
upon  Lisbon  should  be  countermanded. 

Junot  and  his  army  had  by  this  lime 
crossed  the  frontiers  of  Portugal,  entering, 
he  said,  as  the  friends,  allies,  and  protectors 
of  the  Portuguese,  come  to  save  Lisbon  from 
the  fate  of  Copenhagen,  and  relieve  the  in- 
habitants from  the  yoke  of  the  maritime  ty- 
rants of  Europe.  He  promised  the  utmost 
good  discipline  on  the  part  of  his  troops, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  the  constant  plun- 
der and  exactions  of  the  French  were  em- 
bittered by  wanton  scorn  and  acts  of  sacri- 
lege, which,  to  a  religious  people,  seemed 
peculiarly  horrible.  Nothing,  however,  re- 
tarded the  celerity  of  his  march  ;  for  he 
was  well  aware  that  it  was  his  master's 
most  anxious  wish  to  seize  the  persons  of 
the  Portuguese  Royal  Family,  and  especial- 
ly that  of  the  Prince  Regent. 

But  the  Prince,  although  his  general  dis- 
position was  gentle  and  compromising,  had. 
on  this  occasion,  impressions  not  unworthy 
of  the  heir  of  Braganza.  He  had  determin- 
ed that  he  would  not  kiss  the  dug'  it  the 


feet  of  the  invader,  or  be  made  captive  to 
enhance  his  triumph.  The  kingdom  of  Por- 
tugal had  spacious  realms  beyond  the  At- 
lantic, in  which  its  royal  family  might  seek 
refuge.  The  British  ambassador  offered 
every  facility  which  her  squadron  could  af- 
ford, and,  as  is  now  known,  granted  the 
guarantee  of  Great  Britain,  that  she  would 
acknowledge  no  government  which  the  in- 
vaders might  establish  in  Portugal,  to  the 
prejudice  of  the  House  of  Braganza.  The 
Prince  Regent,  with  the  whole  royal  fami 
ly,  embarked  on  board  the  Portuguese  ves- 
sels of  the  line,  hastily  rigged  out  as  they 
were,  and  indifferently  prepared  for  sea ; 
and  thus  afforded  modern  Europe,  for  the 
first  time,  an  example  of  that  species  of 
emigration,  frequent  in  ancient  days,  when 
kings  and  princes,  expelled  from  their  na- 
tive seats  by  the  strong  arm  of  violence, 
went  to  seek  new  establishments  in  distant 
countries.  The  royal  family  embarked* 
amid  the  tears,  cries,  and  blessings  of  the 
people,  from  the  very  spot  whence  \'asco  de 
Gama  loosened  his  sails,  to  discover  for 
Portugal  new  realms  in  the  East.  The 
weather  was  as  gloomy  as  were  the  actors 
and  spectators  of  this  affecting  scene  ;  and 
the  firmness  of  the  Prince  Regent  was  ap- 
plauded by  the  nation  which  he  was  leaving, 
aware  that  his  longer  presence  might  have 
exposed  himself  to  insult,  but  could  have 
had  no  effect  in  ameliorating  their  own  fate. 

Junot,  within  a  day's  march  of  Lisbon, 
was  almost  frantic  with  rage  when  he  heard 
this  news.  He  well  knew  how  much  liie 
escape  of  the  Prince,  and  the  resolution  he 
liad  formed,  would  diminish  the  lustre  of 
his  own  success  in  the  eyes  of  his  master. 
Once  possessed  of  the  Prince  Regent's  per- 
son, Buonaparte  had  hoped  to  get  him  to 
cede  possession  of  the  Brazils  ;  and  trans- 
marine acquisitions  had  for  Napoleon  all  the 
merit  of  novelty.  The  empire  of  the  House 
of  Braganza  in  the  new  world,  was  now  ef- 
fectually beyond  his  reach  ;  and  his  general, 
thus  far  unsuccessful,  might  have  some  rea- 
son to  dread  the  excess  of  his  master's  dis- 
appointment. 

Upon  the  first  of  December,  exhausted 
with  their  forced  marches,  and  sufficiently 
miserable  in  equipment  and  appearance,  the 
French  vanguard  ipproached  the  city,  and 
their  general  might  see  the  retreating  sails 
of  the  vessels  which  deprived  him  of  so 
fair  a  portion  of  his  prize.  Junot,  however, 
was  soon  led  to  resume  confidence  in  hie 
own  merits.  He  had  been  connected  with 
Buonaparte  ever  since  the  commencement 
of  his  fortunes,  which  he  had  faithfully  fol- 
lowed. Such  qualifications,  and  his  having 
married  a  lady  named  Comnene,  who  affirm- 
ed herself  to  be  descended  from  the  blood 
of  the  Greek  emperors,  was  sufficient,  he 
thought,  to  entitle  him  to  expect  the  vacant 
throne  of  Lisbon  from  the  hand  of  his  mas- 
ter, In  the  mean  time,  he  acted  as  if  al- 
ready in  possession  of  supreme  power.  He 
took  possession  of  the  house  belonging  to 
the  richest  merchant  in  the  city,  and  al- 
though  he  received  twelve   hundred  cn»- 


•97th  Noveinfer,  1807. 


Cht^.  LIX] 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


493 


eadoes  a  month  for  his  table,  he  compelled 
his  landlord  to  be  at  the  whole  expense  of 
his  establishment  which  was  placed  on  the 
most  extravagant  scaiC  of  splendour.  His 
inferior  officers  took  the  hint,  nor  were  the 
soldiers  slow  in  following  the  example.  The 
extortions  and  rapacity  practised  in  Lisbon 
seemed  to  leave  all  former  excesses  of  the 
French  army  far  behind.  This  led  to  quar- 
rels betwixt  the  French  and  the  natives ; 
blood  was  shed  ;  public  executions  took 
place,  and  the  invaders,  proceeding  to  re- 
duce and  disband  the  remnant  of  tiie  Portu- 
guese army,  showed  their  positive  inten- 
tion to  retain  the  kingdom  under  their  own 
exclusive  authority. 

This  purpose  was  at  last  intimated  by  an 
official  documentor  proclamation,  issued  by 
Junot  under  Buonaparte's  orders.  It  de- 
clared, that,  by  leaving  his  kingdom,  the 
Prince  of  Brazil  had  in  fact  abdicated  the 
sovereignty,  and  that  Portugal,  having  be- 
come a  part  of  the  dominions  of  Napoleon, 
should,  for  the  present,  be  governed  by  the 
French  General- in-chief,  in  name  of  the 
Emperor.  The  French  flag  was  according- 
ly displayed,  the  arms  of  Portugal  every- 
where removed.  The  property  of  the 
Prince  Regent,  and  of  all  who  had  followed 
him,  was  sequestrated,  with  a  reserve  in  fa- 
vour of  those  who  should  return  before  the 
15th  day  of  February,  the  proclamation  be- 
ing published  upon  the  nrst  day  of  that 
month.  The  next  demand  upon  the  unhap- 
py country,  was  for  a  contribution  of  forty 
millions  of  crusadoes,  or  four  millions  and  a 
half  sterling;  which,  laid  upon  a  population 
-of  something  less  than  three  millions,  came 
to  about  thirty  shillings  a-head;  while  the 
share  of  the  immense  numbers  who  could 
pay  nothing,  fell  upon  the  upper  and  mid- 
dling ranks,  who  had  still  some  property  re- 
maining. There  was  not  specie  enough  in 
the  country  to  answer  the  demand  ;  but 
plate,  valuables,  British  goods,  and  colonial 
produce,  were  received  instead  of  money. 
Some  of  the  French  officers  turned  jobbers 
ia  these  last  articles,  sending  them  off  to 
Paris,  where  they  were  sold  to  advantage. 
Some  became  money-brokers,  and  bought 
up  paper-money  at  a  discount.  So  little 
does  the  profession  of  arms  retain  of  its  dis- 
interested and  gallant  character,  when  its 
professors  become  habituated  and  accus- 
tomed depredators. 

Tlie  proclamation  of  2d  February,  vesting 
the  government  of  Portugal  in  General  Ju- 
not, as  the  representative  of  the  French 
Empire,  seemed  entirely  to  abrogate  the 
treaty  of  Fontainbleau,  and  in  fact  really 
did  so,  except  ai?  to  such  articles  in  favour 
of  Napoleon,  as  he  himself  chose  should  re- 
main in  force.  .\s  for  tlie  imaginary  prince- 
dom of  Algarves,  with  which  Godoy  was  to 
have  been  invested,  no  more  was  ever  said 
or  thought  about  it :  nor  was  he  in  any  con- 
dition to  assert  his  claim  to  it,  however  for- 
mal the  stipulation. 

While  the  French  were  taking  possession 
of  Portugal,  one  of  those  scandalous  scenes 
took  place  in  the  royal  family  at  Madrid, 
which  are  often  found  to  precede  the  fall  of 
X  ibaken  throne 


We  have  already  mentioned  the  discon- 
tent of  the  Prince  of  Asturias  with  his  father, 
or  rather  his  father's  minister.  We  bav« 
mentioned  that  he  had  desired  to  ally  him- 
self with  the  family  of  Buonaparte,  in  order 
to  secure  his  protection,  but  that  the  Empe- 
ror of  France  had  given  no  direct  encour- 
agement to  his  suit.  Still,  a  considerable 
party,  headed  by  the  Duke  del  Infantado, 
and  the  Canon  Escoiquiz,  who  had  been  the 
Prince's  tutor,  relying  upon  the  general 
popularity  of  Ferdinand,  seem  to  have  un- 
dertaken some  cabal,  having  for  its  object 
probably  the  deposition  of  the  old  King  and 
the  removal  of  Godoy.  The  plot  was  dis- 
covered j  the  person  of  the  Prince  was  se- 
cured, and  Charles  made  a  clamorous  appeal 
to  the  justice  of  Napoleon,  and  to  the 
opmion  of  the  world.  He  stated  that  the 
purpose  of  the  conspirators  had  been  aimed 
at  his  life,  and  that  of  his  faithful  minister  : 
and  produced,  in  support  of  this  unnatural 
charge,  two  letters  from  Ferdinand,  address- 
ed to  his  parents,  in  which  he  acknowledges 
(in  general  terms)  having  failed  in  duty  to 
his  father  and  sovereign,  and  says,  "  that  he 
has  denounced  his  advisers,  professes  re- 
pentance, and  craves  pardon."  The  reality 
of  this  alTair  is  not  easily  penetrated.  That 
there  had  been  a  conspiracy,  is  more  than 
probable ;  the  intendeo  parricide  was  prob- 
ably an  aggravation,  of  which  so  weak  a  man 
as  Charles  IV'.  might  be  easily  convinceil 
by  the  arts  of  his  wife  and  her  paramour. 

So  standing  matters  in  that  distracted 
house,  both  father  and  son  appealed  to  Buo- 
naparte, as  the  august  friend  and  ally  of 
Spain,  and  the  natural  umpire  of  the  dis- 
putes in  Its  royal  family.  But  Napoleon 
nourished  views  which  could  not  be  served 
by  giving  either  party  an  effectual  victorj 
over  the  other.  He  caused  his  ambassador. 
Beauharnois,  to  intercede  in  favour  of  the 
Prince  of  Asturias.  Charles  IV.  and  his 
minister  were  alarmed  and  troubled  at  find- 
ing his  powerful  ally  take  interest,  even  to 
this  extent,  in  behalf  of  his  disobedient  son. 
They  permitted  themselves  to  allude  to  the 
private  letter  from  the  Prince  of  Asturias  to 
Napoleon,  and  to  express  a  hope  that  the 
Great  Emperor  would  not  permit  a  rebel- 
lious son  to  shelter  himself^  by  an  alliance 
with  his  Imperial  family.  The  touching 
this  chord  was  what  Buonaparte  desired.  It 
gave  him  a  pretext  to  assume  a  haughty, 
distant,  and  offended  aspect  towards  the 
reigning  King,  who  had  dared  to  suspect 
him  of  bad  faith,  and  had  mentioned  with 
less  than  due  consideration  the  name  of » 
lady  of  the  Imperial  house. 

Godoy  was  terrified  at  the  interpretation 
put  upon  the  remonstrances  made  by  him- 
self and  his  master,  by  the  awful  arbiter  of 
their  destiny.  Izquierdo,  the  Spanish  am- 
bassador, was  directed  to  renew  hia  appU- 
cations   to  the  Emperor,  for  the   especial 

Eurpose  of  assuring  him  that  a  match  with 
is  family  would  be  in  the  highest  degree 
acceptable  to  the  King  of  Spain.  Charles 
wrote  with  his  own  hand  to  the  same  pur- 
pose. But  it  was  Napoleon's  policy  to 
appear  haughty,  distant,  indifferent,  and  of- 
fended ;  and  to  teach  the  contending  fatlker 


494 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE. 


[Chap.  UX. 


and  son.  who  both  looked  to  him  as  their 
judge,  the  painful  feelings  of  mutual  sus- 
pense. In  the  mean  time,  a  new  levy  of 
the  conscription  put  into  his  hands  a  fresh 
army ;  and  forty  thousand  men  were  station- 
ed at  Bayonne,  to  add  weight  to  his  media- 
tion in  the  affairs  of  Spain. 

About  this  period,  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
avow  to  the  ablest  of  his  counsellors,  Tal- 
leyrand and  Fouche,  the  resolution  he  had 
formed,  that  the  Spanish  race  of  the  House 
of  Bourbons  should  cease  to  reign.  His 
plan  was  opposed  by  these  sagacious  states- 
men, and  the  opposition  on  the  part  of  Tal- 
leyrand is  represented  to  have  been  obsti- 
nate. At  a  later  period,  Napoleon  found  it 
more  advantageous  to  load  Talleyrand  with 
the  charge  of  being  his  adviser  in  the  war 
with  Spain,  as  well  as  in  the  tragedy  of  the 
Due  d'Enghien.  In  Fouche's  Memoirs, 
there  is  an  interesting  account  of  his  con- 
versation with  the  Emperor  on  that  occa- 
sion, of  which  we  see  room  fully  to  credit 
the  authenticity.  It  places  before  us,  in  a 
striking  point  of  view,  arguments  for  and 
against  this  extraordinary  and  decisive  mea- 
sure. "  Let  Portugal  take  her  fate,"  said 
Fouch6,  "  she  is,  in  fact,  little  else  than  an 
English  colony.  Butthat  King  of  Spain  has 
given  you  no  reason  to  complain  of  him  ;  he 
has  been  the  humblest  of  your  prefects. 
Besides  take  heed  you  are  not  deceived  in 
the  disposition  of  the  Spaniards.  You  have 
a  party  amongst  them  now,  because  they 
look  on  you  as  a  great  and  powerful  poten- 
tate, a  prince,  and  an  ally.  But  you  ought 
to  be  aware  that  the  Spanish  people  possess 
no  part  of  the  German  phlegm.  They  are 
attached  to  their  laws  ;  their  government ; 
their  ancient  customs.  It  would  be  an  er- 
ror to  judge  of  the  national  character  by 
that  of  the  higher  classes,  which  are  there, 
as  elsewhere,  corrupted,  and  indifferent  to 
their  country.  Once  more,  take  heed  you 
do  not  convert,  by  such  an  act  of  aggression, 
a  submissive  and' useful  tributary  kingdom, 
into  a  second  La  Vendee." 

Buonaparte  answered  these  prophetic  re- 
marks, by  observations  on  the  contemptible 
character  of  the  Spanish  government,  the 
imbecility  of  the  King,  and  the  worthless 
character  of  the  minister  ;  the  common 
people,  who  might  be  influenced  to  oppose 
nim  by  the  monks,  would  be  dispersed,  he 
•aid,  by  one  volley  of  cannon.  "  The  stake 
I  play  for  is  immense — I  will  continue  in 
my  own  dynasty  the  family  system  of  the 
Bourbons,  and  unite  Spain  for  ever  to  the 
destinies  of  France.  Remember  that  the 
■un  never  sets  on  the  immense  Empire  of 
Charles  V." 

Fouche  urged  another  doubt ;  whether, 
if  the  flames  of  opposition  should  grow  vio- 
lent in  Spain,  Russia  might  not  be  encour- 
aged to  resume  her  connexion  with  England, 


and  thus  place  the  Empire  of  Napoleon  be- 
twi.xt  two  fires  7  This  suspicion  Buonaparte 
ridiculed  as  that  of  a  minister  of  police, 
whose  habits  taught  him  to  doubt  the  very 
existence  of  sincerity.  The  Emperor  of 
Russia,  he  said,  was  completely  won  over, 
and  sincerely  attached  to  him.  Thus, 
warned  in  vain  of  the  wrath  and  evil  to 
come,  Napoleon  persisted  in  his  purpose. 

But,  ere  yet  he  pounced  upon  the  tempt- 
ing prey,  in  which  form  Spain  presented 
herself  to  his  eyes,  Napoleon  made  a  hurri- 
ed expedition  to  Italy.  This  journey  had 
several  motives.  One  was,  to  interrupt  his 
communications  with  the  royal  family  of 
Spain,  in  order  to  avoid  being  pressed  to  ex- 
plain the  precise  nature  of  his  pretensions, 
until  he  was  prepared  to  support  them  by 
open  force.  Another  was,  to  secure  the  ut- 
most personal  advantage  which  could  be  ex- 
tracted from  the  treaty  of  Fontainbleau,  be- 
fore he  threw  that  document  aside  like 
waste  paper  ;  it  being  his  purpoio  that  it 
should  remain  such,  in  so  far  as  its  stipula- 
tions were  in  behalf  of  any  others  than  him- 
self. Under  pretext  of  this  treaty,  he  ex- 
pelled from  Tuscany,  or  Etruria,  as  it  was 
now  called,  the  widowed  Queen  of  that  ter- 
ritory. She  now,  for  the  first  time,  learn- 
ed, that  by  an  agreement  to  which  she  was 
no  party,  she  was  to  be  dispossessed  of  her 
own  original  dominions,  as  well  as  of  those 
which  Napoleon  himself  had  guaranteed  to 
her,  and  was  informed  that  she  was  to  re- 
ceive acompensation  in  Portugal.  This  in- 
creased her  affliction.  •'  She  did  not  de- 
sire," she  said,  '■  to  share  the  spoils  of  any 
one,  much  more  of  a  sister  and  a  friend." 
Upon  arriving  in  Spain,  and  having  recourse 
to  her  parent,  the  King  of  Spain,  for  redress 
and  explanation,  she  had  the  additional  in- 
formation, that  the  treaty  of  Fontainbleau 
was  to  be  recognised  as  valid,  in  so  far  as  it 
deprived  her  of  her  territories,  but  was  not 
to  be  of  any  effect  in  as  far  as  it  provided 
her  with  indemnification.  At  another  time, 
or  in  another  history,  this  would  have  been 
dwelt  upon  as  an  aggravated  system  of  vio- 
lence and  tyranny  over  the  unprotected. 
But  the  far  more  important  affairs  of  Spain 
threw  those  of  Etruria  into  the  shade. 

After  so  much  preparation  behind  the 
scenes,  Buonaparte  now  proposed  to  open 
the  first  grand  act  of  the  impending  drama. 
He  wrote  from  Italy  to  the  King  of  Spain, 
that  he  consented  to  the  proposal  which  he 
had  made  for  the  marriage  betwixt  the 
Prince  of  Asturias  and  one  of  his  kinswo- 
men ;  and  having  thus  maintained  to  the 
last  the  appearances  of  friendship,  he  gave 
orders  to  the  French  army  lying  at  Bayonne 
to  enter  Spain  on  different  points,  and  to 
possess  themselves  of  tlie  strong  fortresses 
by  which  the  frontier  of  that  kingdom  it 
defended. 


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